Life of the author [signed I.K.] Elfrid. Walking statue. Rinaldo. Fatal vision. King Henry V. Fatal extravagance. Merlin in love. AthelwoldT. Lownds, 1760 |
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Life of the author [signed I.K.] Elfrid. Walking statue. Rinaldo. Fatal ... Aaron Hill No preview available - 1760 |
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AARON HILL Afide againſt Almirena Arbanes Argantes Armida Athel Athelwold Bellmour bleffing bofom breaſt caufe charms cou'd death defire dreadful Duke of Bourbon Elfrid Enter Ethel Ethelinda Euft Euftatio Exit eyes fafe fame fate fave fcorn fecret felf fhall fhame fhou'd fince firft firſt fmile foft fome forrow foul ftelle ftill fuch fudden fure fword Godf guilt Harlequin heart Heav'n honour hope Ipanthe King Leol Leolyn loft Lord Louifa lov'd Merlin mifery Mifs moft moſt muft muſt o'er Omal Omalco Ordelia Ordg Ordgar Orontes paffion pity pleaſe pleaſure pow'r Prince puniſhment purpoſe reafon revenge rife Rinaldo SCENE Selim ſhall Siam Sizang Sizangar ſpeak thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand thro Toby Uncham virtue whofe Whoſe wiſh wou'd wretched wrong'd Zarodin
Popular passages
Page v - Mufe fhall find it all, mall make it feen, And teach the world his praife, to charm his queen. Such be the annual truths my verfe imparts...
Page xv - ... worthy of wives, to whom he had been married above twenty years. The following epitaph he wrote, and purpos'd for a monument which he defigned to erect over her grave. Enough, cold ftone ! fuflice her long-lov'd name ; Words are too weak to pay her virtues claim.
Page xiv - Dunciad meant you a real compliment ; and so it has been thought by many, who have asked to whom that passage made that oblique panegyric. As to the notes, I am weary of telling a great truth, which is, that I am not the author of them...
Page xiv - As to your oblique panegyric, I am not under so blind an attachment to the goddess I was devoted to in the Dunciad, but that I knew it was a commendation, though a dirtier one than I wished for ; who am neither fond of some of the company in which I was listed, the noble reward for which I was to become a diver, the allegoric muddiness in which I was to try my skill, nor the institutor of the games you were so kind to allow me a share in.
Page 10 - To prove his glorious pow'r unlimited, Ev'n from the late-made man, man's mighty Maker Stamp'da new form, ftill nearer to his own ; That form was woman, and that woman, wife. Woman, like fweet May dews on fummer's droughts Breathes her all-foftening influence ; peace, and reft Are woman's gifts to man ; when toils, and cares Have worn our weary fouls, woman, dear woman, Is nature's downy pillow of repofe. Elf. What muft man be, if woman be thus charming ? Athel. Man is a ftaff for your foft fex to...
Page 285 - The Rants of ruin'd Kings, of mighty Name, For pompous Misery, small Compassion claim. Empires o'rturn'd, and Heroes, held in Chains, Alarm the Mind, but give the Heart no Pains . To Ills, remote from our Domestic Fears, We lend our Wonder, but with-hold our Tears.
Page xiv - As to your oblique panegyric, I am not under fo blind an attachment to the goddefs I was devoted to in the Dunciad, but that I knew it was a commendation ; though a dirtier one than I wifhed for ; who am, neither fond of fome of the company, in which I was lifted — the noble reward, for which I was to become a diver ; — the allegoric muddinefs, in which I was to try my fkill;— nor the inftitutor of the games, you were...
Page xiv - Let half-soul'd poets still on poets fall, And teach the willing world to scorn them all. But, let no Muse, pre-eminent as thine, Of voice melodious, and of force divine, Stung by wits, wasps, all rights of rank forego, And turn, and snarl, and bite, at every foe.
Page 337 - This play was composed in little more than a week, on which account it is no wonder that it should be, as he himself has described it, " an unpruned wilderness of fancy, with here and there a flower among the leaves; but without any fruit of judgment.
Page 27 - The thorns which line it, and whof<- painful prickings Embitter all the pompous fweets of empire. Happier the wretch who at his daily toils Sweats for his homely dinner,— than a King In all the...