Ellen Terry and Her Sisters

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Dodd, Mead & Company, 1902 - 313 pages
 

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Page 12 - Whose lip mature is ever new? Where's the eye, however blue, Doth not weary? Where's the face One would meet in every place? Where's the voice, however soft, One would hear so very oft? At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth Like to bubbles when rain pelteth. Let, then, winged Fancy find Thee a mistress to thy mind: Dulcet-eyed as Ceres...
Page 214 - His was the spell o'er hearts Which only Acting lends, — The youngest of the sister Arts, Where all their beauty blends : For ill can Poetry express Full many a tone of thought sublime, And Painting, mute and motionless. Steals but a glance of time. But by the mighty actor brought, IJlusion's perfect triumphs come, — Verse ceases to be airy thought, And Sculpture to be dumb.
Page 244 - I would rather have one of your father's getting. Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. DON PEDRO. Will you have me, lady? BEATRICE. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working-days: your grace is too costly to wear every day.
Page 221 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Page 5 - The painter dead, yet still he charms the eye; While England lives, his fame can never die. But he who struts his hour upon the stage 20 Can scarce extend his fame for half an age; Nor pen nor pencil can the actor save, The art and artist share one common grave.
Page 112 - I cannot marry Dora; by my life, I will not marry Dora." Then the old man Was wroth, and doubled up his hands, and said: "You will not, boy! you dare to answer thus!
Page 278 - They say, best men are moulded out of faults; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad: so may my husband.
Page 306 - Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 155 - This world is the best that we live in, To lend, or to spend, or to give in ; But to beg, or to borrow, or get a man's own, 'Tis the very worst world, sir, that ever was known.
Page 124 - Mephistopheles surrounded by an infernal red atmosphere of his own. Marguerite by a pale blue mournful light. The two never blending. After Marguerite has taken the jewels placed in her way in the garden, a weird evening draws on, and the bloom fades from the flowers, and the leaves of the trees droop and lose their fresh green, and mournful shadows overhang her chamber window, which was innocently bright and gay at first. I couldn't bear it, and gave in completely.

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