Cumberland's British Theatre, with Remarks, Biographical and Critical: Printed from the Acting Copies, as Performed at the Theatres Royal, London

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John Cumberland, 1826
 

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Página 49 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Página 78 - Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap'd, Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home ; He was perfumed like a milliner ; And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose, and...
Página 20 - Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane, O, answer me!
Página 42 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
Página 21 - But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres...
Página 82 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon ; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowne'd honour by the locks...
Página 40 - Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better, my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in. imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
Página 37 - For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players Play something like the murder of my father Before mine uncle; I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench I know my course.
Página 52 - See what a grace was seated on this brow : 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 : This was your husband.
Página 49 - Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world : now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.

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