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Page 114 - I shall say the less of Mr. Collier, because in many things he has taxed me justly; and I have pleaded guilty to all thoughts and expressions of mine which can be truly argued of obscenity, profaneness, or immorality, and retract them. If he be my enemy, let him triumph; if he be my friend, as I have given him no personal occasion to be otherwise, he will be glad of my repentance.
Page 170 - The wits of Charles found easier ways to fame, Nor wish'd for Jonson's art, or Shakspeare's flame. Themselves they studied; as they felt, they writ: Intrigue was plot, obscenity was wit.
Page 172 - Tis yours, this night, to bid the reign commence Of rescued Nature and reviving Sense; To chase the charms of Sound, the pomp of Show, Fo,r useful Mirth and salutary Woe; Bid scenic Virtue form the rising age, And Truth diffuse her radiance from the stage.
Page 171 - Song confirm'd her sway. But who the coming changes can presage, And mark the future periods of the stage ? Perhaps, if skill could distant times explore, New Behns, new Durfeys, yet remain in store ; Perhaps where Lear has rav'd, and Hamlet died, On flying cars new sorcerers may ride ; Perhaps (for who can guess th' effects of chance ?) Here Hunt may box, or Mahomet* may dance.
Page 109 - They lived together on the Banke side, not far from the Play-house, both batchelors; lay together; had one wench in the house between them, which they did so admire; the same cloathes and cloake, &c., betweene them.
Page 98 - Ghost appears, thro' the violent and sudden Emotions of Amazement and Horror, turn instantly on the Sight of his Father's Spirit, as pale as his Neckcloth,* when every Article of his Body seem'd to be affected with a Tremor inexpressible ; so that, had his Father's Ghost actually risen before him ; he could not have been seized with more real Agonies ; and this was felt so strongly by the Audience, that the Blood...
Page 89 - I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood; I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know, Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me. But, were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Page 45 - Tragedy called the Moor of Venice :" " I came unknown to any of the rest, To tell the news ; I saw the lady drest: The woman plays to-day ; mistake me not, No man in gown, or page in petticoat: A woman to my knowledge, yet I can't, If I should die, make affidavit on't.
Page 169 - WHEN Learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foes First rear'd the stage, immortal Shakspeare rose ; Each change of many-colour'd life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagin'd new: Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting Time toil'd after him in vain.