Mimic Life: Or, Before and Behind the Curtain. A Series of NarrativesTicknor and Fields, 1856 - 408 oldal |
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50 cents actors actress Albert Allsop Altorf appeared Ariel arms asked audience Belton called child countenance curtain curtsey daugh daughter dear débût Desdemona door dramatic dress ears Edmonton Elma Elma's entered Evadne exclaimed eyes face Fairfax father fear Fisk flowers Floy Gesler Gisippus green-room hand head heart Heaven Higgins hour Hubert Iago Icilius Juliet lady laugh lifted light lips look Lord Oranmore manager Mattie mind Miss Amory Miss Doran Miss Rosenvelt morning Mortimer Mortimer's mother never night novice Oakland Othello pantomime passed Percy Perdita person play POEMS Pottle Price 75 cents prompter rehearsal replied returned Robin Rolla rose Ruthven scene seat seemed smile soul spirit stage Stella stood Susan sweet Tennent theatre theatrical thee thought Tina Tina's tion tone tragedian Truehart turned uncon uttered Virginia voice walked watch whispered wings words young girl
Népszerű szakaszok
40. oldal - Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; It becomes The throned monarch better than his crown : His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice.
183. oldal - He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone, At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
40. oldal - Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature; for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end both at the first, and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.
184. oldal - There's fennel for you, and columbines; there's rue for you; and here's some for me; we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. O, you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy; I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died.
185. oldal - And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead; Go to thy death-bed, He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow All flaxen was his poll, He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan: God ha
258. oldal - Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, I should be as merry as the day is long...
20. oldal - Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn; happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn; Happiest of all in that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king.
350. oldal - What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd.
121. oldal - To a babbling wanderer sent ; Like her ordinary cry, Like, but oh, how different ! Hears not also mortal life ? Hear not we, unthinking creatures ! Slaves of folly, love, or strife, Voices of two different natures...
280. oldal - Full fathom five thy father lies ; Of his bones are coral made : Those are pearls that were his eyes : Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea- change Into something rich and strange.