The Correspondents, an Original Novel: In a Series of LettersT. Becket, 1775 - 264 страници |
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Често срещани думи и фрази
acquiefce Adieu afcrib affure againſt amiable amuſe anſwer apologies aſk becauſe cauſe charmed circumftance converfation correfpondent defire difpofition excufes expreffion exprefs fame fancy fatisfaction favour feem feen felf fenfibility fentiment fhall fhew fhort fhould filence fince fincerity firſt fome fometimes foon forrow fpeaking friendſhip ftill fubfcribe fubject fuch fudden fuffer fufficient fuppofe fweet happineſs happy hear heart himſelf honour hope hopes and fears increaſed inftant intereſting juft juſt laft laſt leaſt leifure letter lofs ment miſtreſs moft morning moſt muft muſt myſelf nefs never obferve obliged occafion opinion pardon paſs perfon perhaps pleafed pleaſed pleaſure poffibly praiſe Pray prefent racter reafon recollect refuſe requeſt reſpects right motive ſay ſee ſeems Shakeſpeare ſhall ſhe taſk tell tenderneſs thank thefe theſe thoſe thou thought thouſand tion tivate unferviceable uſe vifit whofe wiſh worfe write Yorick yourſelf Το
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Страница 164 - Nor peace, nor ease, the heart can know, That, like the needle true, Turns at the touch of joy or woe, But turning, trembles too.
Страница 86 - under which is a white marble tablet where on one side is written in capital letters 'You speak of Mrs Macaulay, She is a kind of prodigy, I revere her abilities, I cannot bear to hear her name sarcastically mentioned, I would have her taste the exalted pleasure of universal applause, I would have statues erected to...
Страница 131 - Actaea, daughter of the neighbouring stream, . This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine, Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot, Were placed by Glycon. He with cowslips pale, Primrose, and purple lychnis, deck'd the green Before my threshold, and my shelving walls With honeysuckle cover'd. Here at noon, Lull'd by the murmur of my rising fount, I slumber ; here my clustering...
Страница 27 - Celia is her favourite heroine, and it is to Rosalind and Celia that Lady Mary Walker points in her Letters from the Duchess de Crui.1 We must not, however, expect the claim that a woman is something per se to fill a large space in the novel at this period. The aim of every honest woman, said Mrs.
Страница 200 - With uncouth rhimes and fhapelefs fculpture deck'd, Implores the paffing tribute of a figh. Their name, their years, fpelt by th' unletter'd Mufe, The place of fame and elegy fupply: And many a holy text around fhe ftrews, That teach the ruftic moralift to dye.
Страница 132 - Lull'd by the murmur of my rising fount, I slumber; here my clustering fruits I tend; Or from the humid flowers, at break of day, Fresh garlands weave, and chase from all my bounds Each thing impure or noxious.
Страница 27 - ... but I shall for ever love and honour his memory, because he is the only poet (that I know of) who has delineated to perfection the character of a female friend. Now, if to this some manly critic should wittily object, that Shakespeare created many imaginary beings, I will readily allow that, because it does not affect this character. We wonder at the fairies, at the witches, at Ariel, at Caliban, but do we wonder at Celia? No, she is generally passed over with inattention, which alone is sufficient...
Страница 25 - My theatrical taste . . . has undergone several revolutions. When I was about half my present age, I admired nothing but pantomime, and the agile tricks of Harlequin, though, at the same time, prompted by childish vanity, I affected to despise them. Soon after that period, my taste really altered. Romeo and Alexander became my heroes. I was pleased •with alternate sighing and storming; and the most extravagant scenes of the most...
Страница 86 - I would have statues erected to her memory ; and once in every age I could wish such a woman to appear, as a proof that genius is not confined to sex ; but at the same time — you will pardon me — we want no more than one Mrs.
Страница 132 - ... fount, I flumber : here my cluftering fruits I tend ; Or from the humid flowers, at break of day, Frefh garlands weave, and chace from all my bounds Each thing impure or noxious. Enter- in, O ftranger, undifmay'd. nor bat nor toad Here lurks : and if thy breaft of blamelefs...