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acting actor afterwards appear asked audience became benefit Boswell boxes brother Burney called character Charles Cibber Club comedy Correspondence David David Garrick dear death described Drury Lane eighteenth century England epigram eyes face fact father Foote four Garden Garrick gave George give Goldsmith hand head interest John Johnson kind King knew Lady later less letter Lichfield light lived London look Lord Manager manner matter mean Memoirs mind Miss nature never night once original person piece play player poor portrait present Print probably received remarked remembered Reynolds scene Shakespeare shillings speak spirit stage Street success talk theatre thing thought told took town tragedy turn vols wife writing wrote young
Page 269 - Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame, Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.
Page 14 - Mr. Wilkes was very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal. "Pray give me leave, Sir: — It is better here — A little of the brown — Some fat, Sir — A little of the stuffing — Some gravy — Let me have the pleasure of giving you some butter — Allow me to recommend a squeeze of this orange ;— or the lemon, perhaps, may have more zest." — "Sir, Sir, I am obliged to you, Sir...
Page 192 - I know not, Madam, that you have a right, upon moral principles, to make your readers suffer so much.
Page 10 - James, whose skill in physic will be long remembered ; and with David Garrick, whom I hoped to have gratified with this character of our common friend. But what are the hopes of man ? I am disappointed by that stroke of death which has eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure.
Page 196 - I'd smile with the simple, and feed with the poor." JOHNSON: "Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor David ! Smile with the simple. What folly is that ? And who would feed with the poor that can help it? No, no ; let me smile with the wise, and feed with the rich.
Page 118 - ... his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then have I reason to be fond of grief. Fare you well : had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do. I will not keep this form upon my head, When there is such disorder in my wit. O Lord ! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son ! My life, my joy, my food, my all the world ! My widow-comfort, and my sorrows
Page 348 - THE Birds put off their every hue, To dress a room for MONTAGU. The Peacock sends his heavenly dyes, His rainbows and his starry eyes...
Page 73 - I knew it would not do ; and they have so frightened me, that I shall not be able to collect myself again the whole night.
Page 386 - Tho' secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick If they were not his own by finessing and trick ; He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back. Of praise a mere glutton, he...
Page 387 - But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, To act as an angel and mix with the skies; Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will; Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and with love, And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above.