Modern English Drama

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Стр. 159 - I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize ; Now to the maid who has none, sir : Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, And here's to the nymph with but one, sir.
Стр. 220 - Then come, put the jorum about. And let us be merry and clever. Our hearts and our liquors are stout. Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever.
Стр. 138 - tis out of pure good humor, and I take it for granted they deal exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir Peter, you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too. SIR PET. Well, well, I'll call in, just to look after my own character.
Стр. 225 - You must not be so talkative, Diggory. You must be all attention to the guests. You must hear us talk, and not think of talking...
Стр. 445 - I could not tame my nature down; for he Must serve who fain would sway; and soothe, and sue, And watch all time, and pry into all place, And be a living Lie, who would become A mighty thing amongst the mean— and such The mass are; I disdained to mingle with A herd, though to be leader— and of wolves. The lion is alone, and so am I.
Стр. 219 - And her partiality is such, that she actually thinks him so. A fortune like yours is no small temptation. Besides, as she has the sole management of it, I'm not surprised to see her unwilling to let it go out of the family. Miss NEV.
Стр. 439 - Astarte! —my beloved! speak to me: I have so much endured — so much endure — Look on me ! the grave hath not changed thee more Than I am changed for thee. Thou lovedst me Too much, as I loved thee : we were not made To torture thus each other, though it were The deadliest sin to love as we have loved.
Стр. 428 - It is not noon: the sunbow's rays still arch The torrent with the many hues of heaven, And roll the sheeted silver's waving column O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular, And fling its lines of foaming light along, And to and fro, — like the pale courser's tail, loo The giant steed, to be bestrode by Death, As told in the Apocalypse.
Стр. 427 - Myself, and thee — a peasant of the Alps — Thy humble virtues, hospitable home, And spirit patient, pious, proud and free ; Thy self-respect, grafted on innocent thoughts ; Thy days of health, and nights of sleep ; thy toils, By danger dignified, yet guiltless ; hopes Of cheerful old age and a quiet grave, With cross and garland over its green turfr And thy grandchildren's love for epitaph ; This do I see — and then I look within — It matters not — my soul was scorch'd already ! C.

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