Rejected Addresses: Or The New Theatrum Poetarum..John Miller, 1812 - 127 páginas Parodies of contemporary poets, written by James Smith & Horatio Smith. |
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Rejected Addresses: Or, the New Theatrum Poetarum. by J. & H. Smith Sin vista previa disponible - 2020 |
Términos y frases comunes
æther atoms beams beauty behold blaze bless bloom blow blue brick bright Brydges Street called chaise Committee Court Covent Garden cried dance diddle dome door Drury Lane Theatre Drury's edifice evanescent eyes fair fear fire firemen flames gallery GEORGE BARNWELL Ghost Glory to Tomfoolery gunpowder tea half hand head heard Higginbottom hiss Holywell Street huzza Jack Jennings knife Ladies and Gentlemen Lady Elizabeth Mugg LADY MACBeth Lady Mugg Lemnos let us bound look look'd Lord LUCRETIUS Luddites Macbeth Milwood Miss Drury Muggins Muses Nancy Lake ne'er never nought nymph o'er old Drury OMNES papa Pat Jennings Perchance plain Playhouse Punch's holiday rebuild REJECTED ADDRESSES roast Round let Samuel Hughes seem'd shout sing smile soon soul stage Surya sweet temple thee thro Tol de rol trowel Twas tweedle dee Veshnoo walls Whitbread Wyatt's Yamen
Pasajes populares
Página 54 - To succour one they loved so well ? Yes, Higginbottom did aspire (His fireman's soul was all on fire), His brother chief to save; But ah ! his reckless generous ire Served but to share his grave ! Mid blazing beams and scalding streams, Through fire and smoke he dauntless broke, Where Muggins broke before.
Página 109 - Iris' bow, down darts the painted hue, Starr'd, striped, and spotted, yellow, red, and blue, Old calico, torn silk, and muslin new.
Página 6 - Jack's in the pouts, and this it is, — He thinks mine came to more than his; So to my drawer he goes, Takes out the doll, and, oh, my stars! He pokes her head between the bars, And melts off half her nose...
Página 47 - These once belong'd to sable prince, Who never did in battle wince ; With valour tart as pungent quince, He slew the vaunting Gaul. Rest there awhile, my bearded lance, While from green curtain I advance, To yon foot-lights, no trivial dance,* And tell the town what sad mischance Did Drury Lane befall...
Página 18 - Tempi's grove, But pacing Grub-street on a jaded hack; What reams of foolscap, while your brains ye rack, Ye mar to make again ! for sure, ere long, Condemn'd to tread the bard's time-sanction'd track, Ye all shall join the bailiff-haunted throng, And reproduce, in rags, the rags ye blot in song. X. So fares the follower in the Muses...
Página 104 - Tinge with his beam the beams of Drury Lane : While gradual parties fill our widen'd pit, And gape, and gaze, and wonder, ere they sit. At first, while vacant seats give choice and ease, Distant or near, they settle where they please ; But when the multitude contracts...
Página 25 - All plain and smooth like a quakers' meeting. None of your Egyptian pyramids, to entomb subscribers' capitals. No overgrown colonnades of stone, like an alderman's gouty legs in white cotton stockings, fit only to use as rammers for paving Tottenham Court Road. This house is neither after the model of a temple in Athens, no, nor a temple in Moorfields, but it is built to act English plays in ; and, provided you have good scenery, dresses, and decorations, I...
Página 57 - Lane Theatre is now complete. Of that part behind the curtain, which has not yet been destined to glow beneath the brush of the varnisher, or vibrate to the hammer of the carpenter, little is thought by the public, and little need be said by the committee. Truth, however, is not to be sacrificed for the accommodation of either ; and he who should pronounce that our edifice has received its final embellishment, would be disseminating falsehood without incurring favor, and risking the disgrace of detection...
Página 8 - My father's walls are made of brick, But not so tall and not so thick As these ; and, goodness me ; My father's beams are made of wood, But never, never half so good As those that now I see.
Página 105 - Foil'd in his crash, the leader of the clan Reproves with frowns the dilatory man : Then on his candlestick thrice taps his bow, Nods a new signal, and away they go. Perchance, while pit and gallery cry