Garrick and His Circle

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G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1906 - 417 pages
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Page 264 - Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame, Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.
Page 190 - I know not, Madam, that you have a right, upon moral principles, to make your readers suffer so much.
Page 14 - James, whose skill in physic will be long remembered ; and with David Garrick, whom I hoped to have gratified with this character of our common friend. But what are the hopes of man ? I am disappointed by that stroke of death which has eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure.
Page 380 - But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, To act as an angel and mix with the skies: Those poets, who owe their best fame to his skill Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will; Old...
Page 380 - Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will; Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and with love, And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above.
Page 362 - Biron they call him ; but a merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal : His eye begets occasion for his wit ; For every object that the one doth catch The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, Delivers in such apt and gracious words That aged ears play truant at his tales And younger hearings are quite ravished ; So sweet and...
Page 196 - I'd smile with the simple, and feed with the poor." JOHNSON: "Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor David ! Smile with the simple. What folly is that ? And who would feed with the poor that can help it? No, no ; let me smile with the wise, and feed with the rich.
Page 121 - ... his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then have I reason to be fond of grief. Fare you well : had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do. I will not keep this form upon my head, When there is such disorder in my wit. O Lord ! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son ! My life, my joy, my food, my all the world ! My widow-comfort, and my sorrows
Page 340 - THE Birds put off their every hue, To dress a room for MONTAGU. The Peacock sends his heavenly dyes, His rainbows and his starry eyes...
Page 78 - I knew it would not do ; and they have so frightened me, that I shall not be able to collect myself again the whole night.

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