Cambridge Essays, Volume 1John W. Parker and son, 1855 |
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Page 13
... tion of the euphuist , Sir Percie Shafton , by reflecting that satirists of folly cease to attract when the particular folly aimed at is no longer on the wing ; so that plays , for instance , fall into oblivion along with the peculiar ...
... tion of the euphuist , Sir Percie Shafton , by reflecting that satirists of folly cease to attract when the particular folly aimed at is no longer on the wing ; so that plays , for instance , fall into oblivion along with the peculiar ...
Page 23
... tion met dans le chemin du ciel , et ceux qu'une bonne ostentation de bonnes œuvres , n'empêche pas d'en commettre de mauvaises , que son extrême délicatesse pour les choses de la religion , eut de la peine à souffrir cette resemblance ...
... tion met dans le chemin du ciel , et ceux qu'une bonne ostentation de bonnes œuvres , n'empêche pas d'en commettre de mauvaises , que son extrême délicatesse pour les choses de la religion , eut de la peine à souffrir cette resemblance ...
Page 24
... tion of the play . Of course this ban only served to stimulate curiosity . Le Tartuffe , ' says Boileau , en ce temps avait été défendu , et tout le monde voulait avoir Molière , pour le lui entendre reciter . ' * Accordingly we find ...
... tion of the play . Of course this ban only served to stimulate curiosity . Le Tartuffe , ' says Boileau , en ce temps avait été défendu , et tout le monde voulait avoir Molière , pour le lui entendre reciter . ' * Accordingly we find ...
Page 25
... tion . Especially as we believe the French play to be one of the most masterly productions which its author has achieved : its rich ample prose is worthy of Pascal , and as a play it is second only to Tartuffe and the Misanthrope . Sed ...
... tion . Especially as we believe the French play to be one of the most masterly productions which its author has achieved : its rich ample prose is worthy of Pascal , and as a play it is second only to Tartuffe and the Misanthrope . Sed ...
Page 39
... tion of Orgon , the paterfamilias , the calm good sense and purity of his wife , Elmire , the sound genuine piety of his brother Cléante , the hot - headed , self - willed impetuosity of his son Damis , the timorous hesitation of his ...
... tion of Orgon , the paterfamilias , the calm good sense and purity of his wife , Elmire , the sound genuine piety of his brother Cléante , the hot - headed , self - willed impetuosity of his son Damis , the timorous hesitation of his ...
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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...