Dramas and Poems of Edward Bulwer Lytton (Lord Lytton).Little, Brown, 1898 - 454 ページ |
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... happy to see you as an acquaint- ance , M. Beauseant ! - My dear child , the carriage will be here presently . BEAUSEANT . - I will - go Say no more , Madame ! —say no more ! — ( Aside . ) Refused ! and by a merchant's daughter ...
... happy to see you as an acquaint- ance , M. Beauseant ! - My dear child , the carriage will be here presently . BEAUSEANT . - I will - go Say no more , Madame ! —say no more ! — ( Aside . ) Refused ! and by a merchant's daughter ...
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... happy to take a lesson or give one . DAMAS . I'll find the occasion , never fear ! MADAME DESCHAPPELLES . Where are you going , cousin ? DAMAS . To correct my Italian . BEAUSEANT ( to GLAVIS ) . [ Exit . Let us after , and pacify him ...
... happy to take a lesson or give one . DAMAS . I'll find the occasion , never fear ! MADAME DESCHAPPELLES . Where are you going , cousin ? DAMAS . To correct my Italian . BEAUSEANT ( to GLAVIS ) . [ Exit . Let us after , and pacify him ...
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... happy as if she were not to be a princess ( slapping him on the shoulder ) . Come , Sir , I wish you joy ; — young - tender - lovely ; - zounds , I envy you ! MELNOTTE ( who has stood apart in gloomy abstraction ) . Do you ? * * On the ...
... happy as if she were not to be a princess ( slapping him on the shoulder ) . Come , Sir , I wish you joy ; — young - tender - lovely ; - zounds , I envy you ! MELNOTTE ( who has stood apart in gloomy abstraction ) . Do you ? * * On the ...
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... happy , and hast half forgot Him who so loved - so wronged thee , think at least Heaven left some remnant of the angel still In that poor peasant's nature ! Conduct this lady Enter Widow . Ho ! my mother ! ( she is not my wife ; She is ...
... happy , and hast half forgot Him who so loved - so wronged thee , think at least Heaven left some remnant of the angel still In that poor peasant's nature ! Conduct this lady Enter Widow . Ho ! my mother ! ( she is not my wife ; She is ...
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... happy honeymoon . ( Aside . ) I will not die till I am avenged . MELNOTTE . I hold her in these arms -the last embrace ! Never , ah never more , shall this dear head [ Exit . Be pillowed on the heart that should have sheltered And has ...
... happy honeymoon . ( Aside . ) I will not die till I am avenged . MELNOTTE . I hold her in these arms -the last embrace ! Never , ah never more , shall this dear head [ Exit . Be pillowed on the heart that should have sheltered And has ...
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Adrien ANDRÉ CHÉNIER BARADAS beauty BERINGHEN bless Blount brave Cardinal Cardinal Richelieu charms child Cinq Mars Clara Claude Count COURTIER cousin DAMAS dare dear death earth EDWARD BULWER LYTTON Evelyn Exeunt Exit eyes father flowers forgive fortune France FRANÇOIS Georg Georgina give Gloss GLOSSMORE Graves Groginhole hand happy hear heart Heaven honor hope hour HUGUET Hush John Vesey JOSEPH JULIE King Lady F Lady Franklin laugh lips live look Lord LOUIS Lyons Mac Finch MADAME DESCHAPPELLES MARION marriage marry MAUPRAT MELNOTTE Miss Douglas Miss Vesey mother never o'er ORLEANS pardon PAULINE poor Popkins Prince RICHELIEU SCENE scorn Sharp sigh Sir Frederick Sir John Sire sizar smile Smooth snuff-box soul speak star Stout sweet tears tell thee there's thine thou art thou hast thought Toke vewy WIDOW word young youth
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57 ページ - Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape ! I saw thee ! and the passionate heart of man Entered the breast of the wild-dreaming boy ; And from that hour I grew — what to the last I shall be — thine adorer ! Well ! this love, Vain, frantic, guilty, if thou wilt, became A fountain of ambition and bright hope : I thought of tales that by the winter hearth Old gossips tell — how maidens, sprung from kings, Have stooped from their high sphere : how Love, like Death, Levels all ranks, and lays...
160 ページ - The pen is mightier than the sword. Behold The arch-enchanter's wand! — itself a nothing! But taking sorcery from the master hand To paralyse the Caesars — and to strike The loud earth breathless! — Take away the sword; States can be saved without it!
218 ページ - Of that high throne — spurn you the greyhair'd man, Who gave you empire — and now sues for safety? Louis. No: — when we see your Eminence in truth At the foot of the throne — we'll listen to you.
223 ページ - JOSEPH. The King is chafed Against his servant. Lady, while we speak, The lackey of the anteroom is not More powerless than the Minister of France.
179 ページ - Could I recall the past — or had not set The prodigal treasures of the bankrupt soul In one slight bark upon the shoreless sea; The yoked steer, after his day of toil, Forgets the goad, and rests — to me alike Or day or night — Ambition has no rest ! Shall I resign ? — who can resign himself...
314 ページ - That fable hath but fooled the hour ; Each age that ripens power in man But subjects man to power. Yet every day in seven, at least, One bright republic shall be known ; Man's world awhile hath surely ceased, When God proclaims his own ! Six days may rank divide the poor, O Dives, from thy banquet-hall ; The seventh the Father opes the door, And holds his feast for all ! PRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
359 ページ - I contemplate you both ; the man there — the gold here ! Now, there is many a man in those streets honest as you are, who moves, thinks, feels and reasons as well as we do ; excellent in form — imperishable in soul ; who, if his pockets were three days empty, would sell thought, reason, body, and soul too, for that little coin ! Is that the fault of the man ? — no ! it is the fault of mankind ? God made man ; behold what mankind have made a god ! When I was poor, I hated the world ; now I am...
40 ページ - Even then, Methinks thou wouldst be only made more dear By the sweet thought that I could prove how deep Is woman's love! We are like the insects, caught By the poor glittering of a garish flame; But, oh, the wings once scorch'd, the brightest star Lures us no more; and by the fatal light We cling till death! Mel. Angel! [Aside.] O conscience! conscience!
227 ページ - Burst forth to curb the great, and raise the low. Mark, where she stands, around her form I draw The awful circle of our solemn Church! Set but a foot within that holy ground, And on thy head — yea, though it wore a crown — I launch the curse of Rome!
341 ページ - Returning, he proclaims by many a grace, By shrugs and strange contortions of his face, How much a dunce that has been sent to roam, Excels a dunce that has been kept at home.