De Witt's Perfect Orator: Comprising a Great Number of Readings, Recitations, Dialogues and Harangues ... Added to which are Very Carefully Composed Prefatory Remarks ... Together with a Number of Useful Suggestions as to the Stage Arrangements, Making the Costumes, Scenery ...Henry Llewellyn Williams R.M. De Witt, 1872 - 180 страница |
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Страница 10
... face the Audience . B. U. E. E. SE . B. 2 E. B. 13 . D. B. C. C. D. D. L. O. SCENE . B. O. AUDIENCE . L. U. E. L. 3 E. L. 2 E. L. 12 . ... L. L. Left . C. L. C. Left Centre . B. L. 1 E. Left First Entrance . R. 1 E. Centre . Right ...
... face the Audience . B. U. E. E. SE . B. 2 E. B. 13 . D. B. C. C. D. D. L. O. SCENE . B. O. AUDIENCE . L. U. E. L. 3 E. L. 2 E. L. 12 . ... L. L. Left . C. L. C. Left Centre . B. L. 1 E. Left First Entrance . R. 1 E. Centre . Right ...
Страница 16
... face ; The proud Priuli should be taught humanity , And learn to value such a son as thou art . I dare not speak , but my heart bleeds this moment . JAF . Cursed be the cause , though I , thy friend , be part on't : Let me partake the ...
... face ; The proud Priuli should be taught humanity , And learn to value such a son as thou art . I dare not speak , but my heart bleeds this moment . JAF . Cursed be the cause , though I , thy friend , be part on't : Let me partake the ...
Страница 18
... 'd with flowers , and clasp'd from head to foot , An emerald stone in every golden clasp ; And on her brow , fairer than alabaster , A coronet of pearls . But then her face- So lovely - yet so arch 18 THE PERFECT ORATOR . Ginevra Rogers.
... 'd with flowers , and clasp'd from head to foot , An emerald stone in every golden clasp ; And on her brow , fairer than alabaster , A coronet of pearls . But then her face- So lovely - yet so arch 18 THE PERFECT ORATOR . Ginevra Rogers.
Страница 19
... face- So lovely - yet so arch - so full of mirth , The overflowings of an innocent heart- It haunts me still , though many a year has fled , Like some wild melody ! Alone it hangs Over a mouldering heirloom , its companion , An oaken ...
... face- So lovely - yet so arch - so full of mirth , The overflowings of an innocent heart- It haunts me still , though many a year has fled , Like some wild melody ! Alone it hangs Over a mouldering heirloom , its companion , An oaken ...
Страница 25
... face and form I have to - day , I had to - day last year ! My mind is not an inch the taller grown Than mellowing time hath made it in his course ! And , for my heart - it beats not in my breast , If , in the ducal chair of Mantua ...
... face and form I have to - day , I had to - day last year ! My mind is not an inch the taller grown Than mellowing time hath made it in his course ! And , for my heart - it beats not in my breast , If , in the ducal chair of Mantua ...
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appear arms bear beautiful beneath better blessed blood bound brave breast breath Cents CHAPTER CHARACTERS Containing dare dark dead dear death deep dread dream dress DUKE earth Enter eyes face fair fall father fear feel FIGURE give hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hold hope HORSE hour hundred JAMES king land leave light lips live look lord means meet mind mother never night noble o'er once pass piece PIERRE play poor Price recitation rest rise rose round scene seems smile Songs soul sound speak spirit stand strange sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand turn Twas voice wild young
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Страница 134 - Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot; O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea!
Страница 47 - tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night.
Страница 150 - Shoots into port at some well-haven'd isle, Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay ; So thou, with sails how swift ! hast reached the shore, ' Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' * And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchor'd by thy side.
Страница 48 - What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name ! What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title.
Страница 94 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child ! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires ? What mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand...
Страница 91 - And with them the Being Beauteous, Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep, Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me, With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies.
Страница 96 - All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Страница 135 - O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Страница 50 - My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.
Страница 57 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.