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 40
... sounds of joy . * * * FAZIO's House . Enter BIANCA , L._ BIAN . ( C. ) Ah , what a fierce and frantic coil is here , Because the sun must shine on one man less ! I'm sick and weary - my feet drag along . 40 199 THE PERFECT ORATOR .
... sounds of joy . * * * FAZIO's House . Enter BIANCA , L._ BIAN . ( C. ) Ah , what a fierce and frantic coil is here , Because the sun must shine on one man less ! I'm sick and weary - my feet drag along . 40 199 THE PERFECT ORATOR .
Страница 42
... sounds that echo further west Than your sires ' " Islands of the blest . " The mountains look on Marathon , And Marathon looks on the sea : And musing there an hour alone , I dream'd that Greece might still be free ; For , standing on ...
... sounds that echo further west Than your sires ' " Islands of the blest . " The mountains look on Marathon , And Marathon looks on the sea : And musing there an hour alone , I dream'd that Greece might still be free ; For , standing on ...
Страница 43
... Sound like a distant torrent's fall , And answer , " Let one living head , But one arise , -we come , we come ; " " Tis but the living who are dumb . In vain - in vain : strike other chords , Fill high the cup of Samian wine ! Leave ...
... Sound like a distant torrent's fall , And answer , " Let one living head , But one arise , -we come , we come ; " " Tis but the living who are dumb . In vain - in vain : strike other chords , Fill high the cup of Samian wine ! Leave ...
Страница 48
... sound : Art thou not Romeo , and a Montague ? ROM . Neither , fair saint , if either thee dislike . JUL . How camest thou hither , tell me ? and wherefore ? The orchard walls are high , and hard to climb ; And the place death ...
... sound : Art thou not Romeo , and a Montague ? ROM . Neither , fair saint , if either thee dislike . JUL . How camest thou hither , tell me ? and wherefore ? The orchard walls are high , and hard to climb ; And the place death ...
Страница 51
... sound lovers ' tongues by night , Like softest music to attending ears ! JUL . Romeo ! ROм . My sweet ! JUL . At what o'clock to - morrow Shall I send to thee ? ROM . At the hour of nine . JUL . I will not fail ; ' tis twenty years till ...
... sound lovers ' tongues by night , Like softest music to attending ears ! JUL . Romeo ! ROм . My sweet ! JUL . At what o'clock to - morrow Shall I send to thee ? ROM . At the hour of nine . JUL . I will not fail ; ' tis twenty years till ...
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Antonio arms art thou BAILIE NICOL JARVIE beautiful beneath blessed blood bosom brave breast breath brow BRUTUS CHAPTER choice Comic COLA DI RIENZI dare dark daughter dead dear death Deloraine dost doth dread dream dress DUKE Duke of Mantua earth EUGENE ARAM Exit eyes fair father Fazio fear feel FERRARDO gentle GUS WILLIAMS hand hath hear heard heart heaven HORSE hour Hubert JAMES JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES Juliet king leave LICTORS light lips Lochinvar look lord Malcolm Young Mattie MIRA mother ne'er never night noble o'er Pescara piece PIERRE pray recitation Romeo rose Samian wine scene Shylock slave smile Songs soul speak sweet sword tears tell thee thine thou art Thou hast thought Twas voice wild words wretch young Zaphira
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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.