Bell's British Theatre: Comus, by J. Milton. ... Love in a village, by I. Bickerstaff[e |
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الصفحة 47
Exit Face . Mam . Who is it , sir ? 360 Sub . Nothing , sir . Nothing . Mam . What ' s
the matter , good sir ? I have not seen you thus distemper ' d ? Who is ' t ? Sub .
All arts have still had , sir , their adversaries ; But ours the most ignorant .
Exit Face . Mam . Who is it , sir ? 360 Sub . Nothing , sir . Nothing . Mam . What ' s
the matter , good sir ? I have not seen you thus distemper ' d ? Who is ' t ? Sub .
All arts have still had , sir , their adversaries ; But ours the most ignorant .
الصفحة 53
Ay ; if I can strike a fine hook into him , now . The Temple Church , there I have
cast mine angle . Well , pray for me ; I ' ll about it . [ One knocks . Sub . What more
gudgeons ? Dol , scout , scout ? stay , Face , you must go to the door . [ Exit Face
.
Ay ; if I can strike a fine hook into him , now . The Temple Church , there I have
cast mine angle . Well , pray for me ; I ' ll about it . [ One knocks . Sub . What more
gudgeons ? Dol , scout , scout ? stay , Face , you must go to the door . [ Exit Face
.
الصفحة 127
But , hear ' st thou ? It shall go hard , but I will place thee somewhere : Thou shalt
ha ' my letter to mistress Amo . Dol . Hang you Face . Or madam Cæsarean . Dol .
Pox upon you , rogue : Would I had but time to beat thee . [ Exit Dol . · Face .
But , hear ' st thou ? It shall go hard , but I will place thee somewhere : Thou shalt
ha ' my letter to mistress Amo . Dol . Hang you Face . Or madam Cæsarean . Dol .
Pox upon you , rogue : Would I had but time to beat thee . [ Exit Dol . · Face .
الصفحة 67
Exit . Sir S . My son Ben ! Bless thee , my dear boy ! Body o ' me , thou art heartily
welcome . Ben . Thank you , father ; and I ' m glad to see you . Sir S . Odsbud ,
and I ' m glad to see thee . Kiss me , boy ; kiss me again and again , dear Ben .
Exit . Sir S . My son Ben ! Bless thee , my dear boy ! Body o ' me , thou art heartily
welcome . Ben . Thank you , father ; and I ' m glad to see you . Sir S . Odsbud ,
and I ' m glad to see thee . Kiss me , boy ; kiss me again and again , dear Ben .
الصفحة 38
and Parisatis , Hang thou about her , wash her feet with tearsNay haste ; the
breath of gods , and eloquence Of angels go along with you . [ Exit Par . Oh my
heart ! Lys . Now let your majesty who feels the pangs Of disappointed love ,
reflect on ...
and Parisatis , Hang thou about her , wash her feet with tearsNay haste ; the
breath of gods , and eloquence Of angels go along with you . [ Exit Par . Oh my
heart ! Lys . Now let your majesty who feels the pangs Of disappointed love ,
reflect on ...
ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
لم نعثر على أي مراجعات في الأماكن المعتادة.
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Alex Alexander arms beauty believe better body bring brother captain Clyt Clytus comes dear death doctor door Drug Enter Exeunt Exit eyes Face fair faith fall father fear fellow fool Foresight fortune give gone hand hast head hear heard heart Heaven hold honour hope hour husband I'll Jeremy keep king lady leave light live look Lord madam marry master mean mind Miss nature never night once play pleasure poor Pray present Scand Scandal SCENE secret Sir Sampson sister soul speak spirit stand Stat stay Subtle sure sweet talk Tatt Tattle tell thee there's thing thou thought told true turn Valentine virtue what's woman young
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 47 - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings ; There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
الصفحة 34 - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, that, when a soul is found sincerely so, a thousand. liveried angels lackey her, driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, and, in clear dream and solemn vision, tell her of things that no gross ear can hear...
الصفحة 34 - Till all be made immortal : but when lust, By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, Lets in defilement to the inward parts, The soul grows clotted by contagion, Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose The divine property of her first being.
الصفحة 31 - Virtue could see to do what virtue would By her own radiant light, though sun and moon Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude ; Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings, That in the various bustle of resort Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. He that has light within his own clear breast, May sit i...
الصفحة 66 - And from thence can soar as soon To the corners of the moon. Mortals, that would follow me, Love Virtue ; she alone is free. She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime; Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her.
الصفحة 32 - That musing meditation most affects The pensive secrecy of desert cell, Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds, And sits as safe as in a senate-house ; For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, His few books, or his beads, or maple dish...
الصفحة 56 - Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth With such a full and unwithdrawing hand, Covering the earth with odours, fruits and flocks, Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, But all to please, and sate the curious taste...
الصفحة 48 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks,* and wanton* wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
الصفحة 23 - My best guide now : methought it was the sound Of riot and ill-managed merriment, Such as the jocund flute, or gamesome pipe, Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds, When, for their teeming flocks, and granges full, In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan, And thank the gods amiss.
الصفحة 44 - I was all ear, And took in strains that might create a soul Under the ribs of Death...
معلومات المراجع
| العنوان | Bell's British Theatre: Comus, by J. Milton. ... Love in a village, by I. Bickerstaff[e المجلد 1 من Bell's British Theatre, John Bell |
| المساهم | John Bell |
| منشور | 1797 |
| أصلي من | جامعة هارفارد |
| الكتب ذات التنسيق الرقمي | 26 شباط (فبراير) 2008 |
| تصدير الاقتباس | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |