Cambridge Essays, Volume 1John W. Parker and son, 1855 |
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Page 2
... give in his own words : - Aucun manu- scrit , pas une seule ligne de la main de Molière n'existe dans les archives du Théâtre Français . Les manuscrits ont ils en effet été anéantis par l'incendie du Théâtre ? ( This took place in 1799 ...
... give in his own words : - Aucun manu- scrit , pas une seule ligne de la main de Molière n'existe dans les archives du Théâtre Français . Les manuscrits ont ils en effet été anéantis par l'incendie du Théâtre ? ( This took place in 1799 ...
Page 9
... give hints to the ' troupe , ' which he ultimately joined on his marriage with Béjart . He is the author of some cleverish plays : as an actor he is nothing extraordinary , except that he makes you laugh . Now , if we bear in mind that ...
... give hints to the ' troupe , ' which he ultimately joined on his marriage with Béjart . He is the author of some cleverish plays : as an actor he is nothing extraordinary , except that he makes you laugh . Now , if we bear in mind that ...
Page 10
... give a theatrical entertainment devant leurs Majestés , et toute la cour . ' There was much to abash a stouter heart than his . The place itself - the ' salle des gardes ' of what was called the ' vieux Louvre , ' from its being built ...
... give a theatrical entertainment devant leurs Majestés , et toute la cour . ' There was much to abash a stouter heart than his . The place itself - the ' salle des gardes ' of what was called the ' vieux Louvre , ' from its being built ...
Page 12
... give undeniable proof that a vast stride has been effected in this , the maiden comedy of our author . Greatly inferior even to the Étourdi is the next play , the Dépit Amoureux , taken as a whole . We make this reserve , because one of ...
... give undeniable proof that a vast stride has been effected in this , the maiden comedy of our author . Greatly inferior even to the Étourdi is the next play , the Dépit Amoureux , taken as a whole . We make this reserve , because one of ...
Page 14
... give the piece a lift , would not have grudged me some verses in French or Latin : I have actually got some who would have praised me in Greek , and everyone knows that a bit of Greek praise produces a wonderful effect at the head of a ...
... give the piece a lift , would not have grudged me some verses in French or Latin : I have actually got some who would have praised me in Greek , and everyone knows that a bit of Greek praise produces a wonderful effect at the head of a ...
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Common terms and phrases
action Admiral Alceste allotropic American aragonite batteries beauty become bodies bromine called cause character chemical circumstances colour Comédie Française comedy common compound death doubt dramatic effect elements emotion enemy England English excite expression fact feelings force French genius geographical give Greek heart hero Hôtel de Rambouillet human hydrogen instance interest iodine kind language Le Misanthrope Le Tartuffe less literature live Locksley Hall marriage matter means mind modern Molière Molière's moral nature never novel novelists object observed ordinary passed passion peculiar perhaps person phosphorus picture play poem poet poetry Précieuses present principle racter reader remarkable represented Robinson Crusoe sail scene Shakspeare ships society steam story suppose Sveaborg Tartuffe temperature Tennyson things thought tion Tirso de Molina traveller true truth whole words writer
Popular passages
Page 43 - I was confirmed in this opinion, that he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem...
Page 280 - but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries " a thousand types are gone : I care for nothing, all shall go. " Thou makest thine appeal to me : I bring to life, I bring to death : The spirit does but mean the breath : I know no more.
Page 246 - Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves And barren chasms, and all to left and right The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels — And on a sudden, lo! the level lake, And the long glories of the winter moon.
Page 280 - Nature, red in tooth and claw With ravine, shriek'd against his creed — Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills, Who battled for the True, the Just, Be blown about the desert dust, Or seal'd within the iron hills ? No more ? A monster then, a dream, A discord. Dragons of the prime, That tare each other in their slime, Were mellow music match'd with him. O life as futile, then, as frail ! 0 for thy voice to soothe and bless ! What hope of answer, or redress ? Behind the veil, behind the veil.
Page 81 - And one, the reapers at their sultry toil. In front they bound the sheaves. Behind Were realms of upland, prodigal in oil, And hoary to the wind. And one, a foreground black with stones and slags, Beyond a line of heights, and higher All barr'd with long white cloud the scornful crags, And highest, snow and fire. And one, an English home— gray twilight pour'd On dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleep — all things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.
Page 261 - Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest, Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West. Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.
Page 261 - Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Page 245 - Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt; Either from lust of gold, or like a girl Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice, And the third time may prosper, get thee hence: But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, I will arise and slay thee with my hands.
Page 262 - I was left a trampled orphan, and a selfish uncle's ward. Or to burst all links of habit — there to wander far away, On from island unto island at the gateways of the day.
Page 278 - Unfettered by the sense of crime, To whom a conscience never wakes; Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er...