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Página 315 - I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart. Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears^ Ah! she did depart. Soon after she was gone from me A traveller came by, Silently, invisibly: He took her with a sigh.
Página 55 - She, who ne'er answers till a husband cools, Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules; Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, Yet has her humour most, when she obeys...
Página 427 - The greatness of Lear is not in corporal dimension, but in intellectual ; the explosions of his passion are terrible as a volcano ; they are storms turning up and disclosing to the bottom that sea, his mind, with all its vast riches. It is his mind which is laid bare.
Página 297 - Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, An eye like Mars, to threaten and command, A station like the herald Mercury New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill, A combination and a form indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man.
Página 420 - Partridge, with a contemptuous sneer; "why, I could act as well as he myself. I am sure if I had seen a ghost I should have looked in the very same manner, and done just as he did.
Página 428 - This case of flesh and blood seems too insignificant to be thought on ; even as he himself neglects it. On the stage we see nothing but corporal infirmities and weakness, the impotence of rage ; while we read it, we see not Lear, but we are Lear, — we are in his mind, we are sustained by a grandeur which baffles the malice of daughters and storms...
Página 414 - Or the unseen genius of the wood. But let my due feet never fail To walk the Studious cloister's pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim, religious light.
Página 420 - His was the spell o'er hearts Which only acting lends, — The youngest of the sister arts, Where all their beauty blends : For ill can poetry express Full many a tone of thought sublime, And painting, mute and motionless, Steals but a glance of time. But by the mighty actor brought, Illusion's perfect triumphs come — Verse ceases to be airy thought, And sculpture to be dumb.
Página 427 - I cannot help being of opinion that the plays of Shakspeare are less calculated for performance on a stage, than those of almost any other dramatist whatever. Their distinguished excellence is a reason that they should be so. There is so 'much in them, which comes not under the province of acting, with which eye, and tone, and gesture, have nothing to do.
Página 423 - ... afraid of his own heart, and perfectly convince him that it is to stab it, to admit that worst of daggers, jealousy. Whoever reads in his closet this admirable scene, will find that he cannot, except he has as warm an imagination as...

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