updated_at,reviewed_on,context,comments,theme,id,text,provenance,created_at,work_id,metaphor,dictionary
2009-09-14 19:39:43 UTC,,Prologue,"•Murphy's translation of Voltaire's play. First performed 9 January 1764.
•Cross-reference: Horace's Book I, Ode iii. See Brown, Oldisworth, Ramsay, etc.
•I've included twice: Oak and Brass","Horace, Book I, Ode iii",14009,"Bold was the man, and fenc'd in ev'ry part
With oak, and ten-fold brass about the heart,
To build a play who tortur'd first his brain,
And then dar'd launch it on this stormy main.
What tho', at first, he spreads his little sails
To Heav'n's indulgent and propitious gales,
As the land gradual lessens to his eye
He finds a troubled sea, and low'ring sky:
Envy, detraction, calumny, and spite,
Raise a worse storm than when the winds unite.
Around his bark, in many a dang'rous shoal,
Those monsters of the deep, the critics, prowl.
""She's a weak vessel, for these seas unfit,
""And has on board her not a spice of wit:
""She's French-built too; of foreign make,"" they cry;
Like geese still cackling that the Gauls are nigh.
If thrown on rocks by the hoarse dashing wave,
Th' unhappy crew no hand is stretch'd to save;
But round the wreck, like Moors, with furious joy,
The witlings crowd--to murder and destroy.
These are known dangers; and, still full as certain,
The bard meets other ills behind the curtain.
Little you think, ere yet you fix his fate,
What previous mischiefs there in ambush wait;
What plagues arise from all the mimic throng:
""My part's too short;--and, Sir, my part's too long.""
This calls for incident; that repartee.
""Down the back-stairs pen an escape for me.
""Give me a ladder, Mr. Bayes, of rope;
""I love to wear the breeches, and elope.
""Something for me the groundlings ears to split.
""Write a dark closet, or a fainting-fit.
""Fix Woodward in some whimsical disgrace:
""Or be facetious with Ned Shuter's face.""
This is our way; and yet our bard to night
Removes each obstacle, and springs to light.
Some scenes, we hope, he brings to nature true;
Some gleams of humour, and a moral too;
But no strange monsters offers to your view:
No forms, grotesque and wild, are here at strife:
He boasts an etching from the real life;
Exerts his efforts, in a polish'd age,
To drive the Smithfield muses from the stage;
By easy dialogue would win your praise,
And on fair decency graft all his bayes.","Searching ""heart"" and ""brass"" in HDIS (Drama)",2005-06-03 00:00:00 UTC,5201,"""Bold was the man, and fenc'd in ev'ry part /With oak, and ten-fold brass about the heart, / To build a play who tortur'd first his brain, / And then dar'd launch it on this stormy main.""",""
2009-09-14 19:39:43 UTC,,Act II,"•Murphy's translation of Voltaire's play. First performed 9 January 1764.
•Cross-reference: Horace's Book I, Ode iii. See Brown, Oldisworth, Ramsay, etc.","",14011,"I.
To dance, and to dress, and to flaunt it about,
To run to Park, play, to assembly and rout,
To wander for ever in whim's giddy maze,
And one poor hair torture a million of ways,
To put, at the glass, ev'ry feature to school,
And practise their art on each fop and each fool,
Of one thing to think, and another to tell,
These, these are the manners of each giddy belle.
2.
To smile, and to simper, white teeth to display;
The time in gay follies to trifle away;
Against ev'ry virtue the bosom to steel,
And only of dress the anxieties feel;
To be at Eve's ear, the insidious decoy,
The pleasure ne'er taste yet the mischief enjoy,
To boast of soft raptures they never can know,
These, these are the manners of each giddy beau.","Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Drama)",2005-06-13 00:00:00 UTC,5207,"""Against ev'ry virtue the bosom to steel, / And only of dress the anxieties feel""",Metal
2013-11-18 04:53:13 UTC,,"","","",23242,"ZAMTI.
Mark me, young man.--
Seek thou my friends, Orasming and Zimventi.
In the dim holy cloisters of yon temple
Thou'lt find them musing--near Osmingti's tomb
I charge they all convene; and there do thou
Await my coming.--Bid them ne'er remit
Their high heroic ardor;--let them know,
Whate'er shall fall on this old mould'ring clay,
The tyrant never shall subdue my mind.
(I, p. 14)",LION,2013-11-18 04:53:13 UTC,7778,"""Bid them ne'er remit / Their high heroic ardor;--let them know, / Whate'er shall fall on this old mould'ring clay, / The tyrant never shall subdue my mind.""",""
2013-11-18 05:06:31 UTC,,Act V,"","",23257,"ZAMTI.
It is too late--I die--alas! I die--
Life harrass'd out, pursu'd with barb'rous art
Thro' evry trembling joint--now fails at once--
Zaphimri--oh! farewell!--I shall not see
The glories of thy reign--Hamet!--my son--
Thou good young man, farewell--Mandane, yes,
My soul with pleasure takes her flight, that thus
Faithful in death, I leave these cold remains
Near thy dear honour'd clay.--
(V, p. 87)",LION,2013-11-18 05:06:31 UTC,7778,"""My soul with pleasure takes her flight, that thus / Faithful in death, I leave these cold remains / Near thy dear honour'd clay.""",""