Bell's British Theatre, Volume 15John Bell J. Bell, 1797 |
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Page 21
... sorrow ; Drive us , like wrecks , down the rough tide of power , Whilst no hold's left to save us from destruction . All that bear this are villains , and I one , Not to rouse up at the great call of nature , And check the growth of ...
... sorrow ; Drive us , like wrecks , down the rough tide of power , Whilst no hold's left to save us from destruction . All that bear this are villains , and I one , Not to rouse up at the great call of nature , And check the growth of ...
Page 23
... sorrow pleasing , Strengthen my constancy , and welcome ruin . Pier . Then thou art ruin'd ! Jaf . That I long since knew ; I and ill fortune have been long acquainted . 24.1 i Pier . I pass'd this very moment by thy t1 . 23 VENICE ...
... sorrow pleasing , Strengthen my constancy , and welcome ruin . Pier . Then thou art ruin'd ! Jaf . That I long since knew ; I and ill fortune have been long acquainted . 24.1 i Pier . I pass'd this very moment by thy t1 . 23 VENICE ...
Page 25
... sorrows that fell from her . 280 Ev'n the lewd rabble , that were gather`d round To see the sight , stood mute when they beheld her ; Govern'd their roaring throats , and grumbled pity . I could have hugg'd the greasy rogues : they ...
... sorrows that fell from her . 280 Ev'n the lewd rabble , that were gather`d round To see the sight , stood mute when they beheld her ; Govern'd their roaring throats , and grumbled pity . I could have hugg'd the greasy rogues : they ...
Page 29
... sorrow , Creep to thy bosom , pour the balm of love Into thy soul , and kiss thee to thy rest ; Then praise our God , and watch thee till the morning . Jaf . Hear this , you Heav'ns ! and wonder how you made her : Reign , reign , ye ...
... sorrow , Creep to thy bosom , pour the balm of love Into thy soul , and kiss thee to thy rest ; Then praise our God , and watch thee till the morning . Jaf . Hear this , you Heav'ns ! and wonder how you made her : Reign , reign , ye ...
Page 31
... sorrows at his funeral , ( For he has already made me heir to treasures " Would make me out - act a real widow's whining ) " How could I frame my face to fit my mourning ! " With wringing hands attend him to his grave ; " Fall swooning ...
... sorrows at his funeral , ( For he has already made me heir to treasures " Would make me out - act a real widow's whining ) " How could I frame my face to fit my mourning ! " With wringing hands attend him to his grave ; " Fall swooning ...
Common terms and phrases
Adrastus Alcander Alvarez arms art thou behold Belvidera Belzara blood bosom brave Carlos Creon crown cruel curs'd curse dagger dare dear death Dioc dreadful Duchess of SUFFOLK e'er Enter Eurydice ev'n ev'ry Exeunt Exit eyes faith fatal fate father fear give gods Gormaz grief guard Guil Guilford Hæmon hand hear heart Heav'n honour hope incest Jaffier Jocasta king L. J. Gray Lady JANE Laius lord Lord Guilford Dudley mercy mourn murder Nacky ne'er night noble o'er OEdip passion peace Pembroke Phor Phorbas Pier Pierre pity Polybus pow'r prince queen rage revenge royal ruin sacred Sanchez senate shew sorrows soul speak Suff sword tears tell Thebans Thebes thee there's thou art thou hast thought thy love Tiresias traitor twas vengeance villain virtue wretched wrong'd Ximena
Popular passages
Page 111 - Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head, Where everlasting sweets are always springing, With a continual giving hand: let peace, Honour, and safety, always hover round her: Feed her with plenty, let her eyes ne'er see A sight of sorrow, nor her heart know mourning: Crown all her days with joy, her nights with rest, Harmless as her own thoughts; and prop her virtue, To bear the loss of one that too much lov'd, And comfort her with patience in our parting.
Page 76 - Last night, my love! JAFF. Name, name it not again. It shows a beastly image to my fancy Will wake me into madness. Oh, the villain! That durst approach such purity as thine On terms so vile! Destruction, swift destruction Fall on my coward head, and make my name The common scorn of fools if I forgive him!
Page 122 - Lead me into some place that's fit for mourning; Where the free air, light, and the cheerful sun May never enter. Hang it round with black; ;Set up one taper that may last a day — As long as I've to live; and there all leave me, Sparing no tears when you this tale relate, But bid all cruel fathers dread my fate.
Page 25 - The bitterness her tender spirit tastes of, I own myself a coward: bear my weakness, If throwing thus my arms about thy neck, I play the boy, and blubber in thy bosom. Oh! I shall drown thee with my sorrows! Pierr. Burn ! First burn, and level Venice to thy ruin. What! starve like beggars' brats in frosty weather, Under a hedge, and whine ourselves to death!
Page 47 - To you, Sirs, and your honours, I bequeath her, And with her this. When I prove unworthy — (gives a dagger) You know the rest — then strike it to her heart; And tell her, he who three whole happy years Lay in her arms, and each kind night repeated The passionate vows of still increasing love, Sent that reward for all her truth and sufferings.
Page 114 - Oh, there's all quiet, here all rage and fury: The air's too thin, and pierces my weak brain: I long for thick substantial sleep: hell, hell. Burst from the centre, rage and roar aloud, If thou art half so hot, so mad as I am.
Page 88 - I have not wrong'd thee, by these tears I have not. But still am honest, true, and hope too, valiant: My mind still full of thee, therefore still noble; Let not thy eyes then shun me, nor thy heart Detest me utterly; oh, look upon me, Look back and see my sad sincere submission ! How my heart swells, as even 'twould burst my bosom; Fond of its gaol, and labouring to be at thee ! What shall I do ? what say to make thee hear me ? Pierr.
Page 17 - You stole her from me ; like a thief you stole her, At dead of night ! that cursed hour you chose To rifle me of all my heart held dear.
Page 16 - I receiv'd you, Courted, and sought to raise you to your merits: My house, my table, nay, my fortune, too, My very self, was yours; you might have us'd me To your best service.
Page 24 - Priuli's cruel hand had sign'd it. Here stood a ruffian with a horrid face, Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate, Tumbled into a heap for public sale. There was another making villainous jests At thy undoing.