A philosophical inquiry into the source of the pleasures derived from tragic representations. Preceded by a critical examination of the various theories adopted on the subject by the English, Frech, and German philosophers

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الصفحة 181 - tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep; No surly porter stands in guilty state, To spurn imploring famine from the gate...
الصفحة 288 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
الصفحة 296 - The other Shape — If shape it might be called that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb...
الصفحة 181 - How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these, A youth of labour with an age of ease ; Who quits a world where strong temptations try And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly...
الصفحة 27 - Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet near day. It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree. Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
الصفحة 292 - Shakespeare is, above all writers, at least above all modern writers, the poet of nature; the poet that holds up to his readers a faithful mirror of manners and of life. His characters are not modified by the customs of particular places, unpractised by the rest of the world; by the peculiarities of studies or professions, which can operate but upon small numbers; or by the accidents of transient fashions or temporary opinions: they are the genuine progeny of common humanity, such as the world will...
الصفحة 150 - Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall, Atoms or systems into ruin hurled, And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
الصفحة 132 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
الصفحة 384 - That for some vicious mole of nature in them, As, in their birth, wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin, By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, Or by some habit that too much o'er-leavens The form of plausive manners ; that these men, Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, Their virtues else, be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo, Shall in the general censure...
الصفحة 157 - Subject, compound them, follow her and God. Love, hope, and joy, fair pleasure's smiling train, Hate, fear, and grief, the family of pain...

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