Dryden so tragediedigter: En studie over den engelske tragedie i tidsrummet 1660-1700, af Torben Lundbeck

G. E. C. Gad, 1894 - 195 páginas

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Página 72 - tis all a cheat, Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit ; Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay ; To-morrow's falser than the former day ; Lies worse ; and, while it says we shall be blest With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
Página 67 - But spite of all his pride, a secret shame Invades his breast at Shakespeare's sacred name: Awed when he hears his godlike Romans rage, He, in a just despair, would quit the stage.
Página 91 - Lie there, thou shadow of an emperor; The place thou pressest on thy mother earth Is all thy empire now: now it contains thee; Some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large, When thou'rt contracted in thy narrow urn, Shrunk to a few cold ashes; then Octavia (For Cleopatra will not live to see it), Octavia then will have...
Página 195 - O gracious God! how far have we Profaned thy heavenly gift of poesy! Made prostitute and profligate the Muse, Debased to each obscene and impious use, Whose harmony was first ordained above For tongues of angels, and for hymns of love! O wretched we! why were we hurried down This lubrique and adulterate age, (Nay, added fat pollutions of our own,) T' increase the steaming ordures of the stage? What can we say t
Página 35 - If from thy hands, alone my death can be, I am immortal, and a god to thee. If I would kill thee now, thy fate's so low, That I must stoop ere I can give the blow : But mine is fixed so far above thy crown, That all thy men, Piled on thy back, can never pull it down: But, at my ease, thy destiny I send, By ceasing from this hour to be thy friend.
Página 66 - Tis much more hard to please himself than you: And out of no feign'd modesty, this day Damns his laborious trifle of a play : Not that it's worse than what before he writ; But he has now another taste of wit; And, to confess a truth, though out of time, Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme...
Página 36 - No, there is a necessity in Fate, Why still the brave bold man is fortunate; He keeps his object ever full in sight, And that assurance holds him firm and right, True, 'tis a narrow way that leads to bliss, \ But right before there is no precipice; ) Fear makes men look aside, and so their footing miss.
Página 101 - This shows not well above. Then what am I, The murderer of this truth, this innocence! Thoughts cannot form themselves in words so horrid As can express my guilt!
Página 91 - The herd come jumping by me, And, fearless, quench their thirst, while I look on, And take me for their fellow-citizen.
Página 31 - I'le lead you thence to melancholy Groves. And there repeat the Scenes of our past Loves: At night, I will within your Curtains peep; With empty arms embrace you while you sleep ; In gentle dreams I often will be by; And sweep along, before your closing eye.

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