Memoirs of the Life of the Right Honourable Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Volume 1

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Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green, 1827
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Page 215 - Well, I'll not debate how far scandal may be allowable ; but in a man, I am sure, it is always contemptible. We...
Page 484 - Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven, And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge To prick and sting her.
Page 264 - Pity it is, that the momentary beauties flowing from an harmonious elocution, cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record ; that the animated graces of the player can live no longer than the instant breath and motion that presents them ; or at best can but faintly glimmer through the memory, or imperfect attestation, of a few surviving spectators.
Page 176 - Cheeks of rose, untouch'd by art? I will own the colour true, When yielding blushes aid their hue. Is her hand so soft and pure ? I must press it, to be sure ; Nor can I be certain then, Till it, grateful, press again. Must I, with attentive eye, Watch her heaving bosom sigh ? I will do so, when I see That heaving bosom sigh for me.
Page 175 - I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me ; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip, But where my own did hope to sip.
Page 237 - ... phaeton, she desired me to write some verses on her ponies; upon which, I took out my pocketbook, and in one moment produced the following : " Sure never were seen two such beautiful ponies ; Other horses are clowns, but these macaronies : To give them this title I'm sure can't be wrong, Their legs are so slim, and their tails are so long.
Page 275 - What motley cares Gorilla's mind perplex, Whom maids and metaphors conspire to vex! In studious deshabille behold her sit, A letter'd gossip and a housewife wit: At once invoking, though for different views, Her gods, her cook, her milliner, and muse. Round her strew'd room a frippery chaos lies, A chequer'd wreck of notable and wise. Bills, books, caps, couplets, combs, a varied mass, Oppress the toilet and obscure the glass; Unfinished here an epigram is laid, And there a mantua-maker's bill unpaid.
Page 163 - Wind, gentle evergreen;' a passionate song for Mattocks,** and another for Miss Brown,*** which solicit to be clothed with melody by you, and are all I want. Mattocks's I could wish to be a broken, passionate affair, and the first two lines may be recitative, or what you please, uncommon. Miss Brown sings hers in a joyful mood: we want her to show in it as much execution as she is capable of, which is pretty well; and, for variety, we want Mr. Simpson's hautboy to cut a figure, with replying passages,...
Page 121 - He, and some of his friends, also who have heard it, assure me in the most flattering terms that there is not a doubt of its success. It will be very well played, and Harris tells me that the least shilling I shall get (if it succeeds) will be six hundred vol.. l. i ° pounds. I shall make no secret of it towards the time of representation, that it may not lose any support my friends can give it.
Page 153 - So pleads the tale' that gives to future times " The son's misfortunes and the parent's crimes ; " There shall his fame (if own'd to-night) survive, " Fix'd by THE HAND THAT BIDS OUR LANGUAGE LIVE.

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