Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Mrs. Frances Sheridan: With Remarks Upon a Late Life of the Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan

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G. and W. B. Whittaker, 1824 - Authors, Irish - 435 pages
 

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Page 40 - And he went up from thence unto Beth-el: and as he was going up by the way, there came forth little children out of the city, and mocked him, and said unto him, "Go up, thou bald head...
Page 114 - A novel is a large diffused picture, comprehending the characters of life, disposed in different groups, and exhibited in various attitudes, for the purposes of an uniform plan, and general occurrence, to which every individual figure is subservient.
Page 405 - Sheridan ; and there were persons who roundly asserted that the play was written by a young lady, the daughter of a merchant in Thames Street ; that, at the beginning of the season, when Mr. Sheridan commenced his management, the manuscript was put into his hands for his judgment, soon after which, the fair writer, who was then in a state of decline, went to Bristol Hot- Wells, where she died.
Page 377 - Feast ;" and, happening to sit next him, congratulated him on having produced the finest and noblest Ode that had ever been written in any language. " You are right, young gentleman, (replied Dryden,) a nobler Ode never was produced, nor ever will.
Page 423 - ... her loss. Her own family were at Bath, and had spent one day with her, when she was tolerably well. Your poor brother now thought it proper to send for them, and to flatter them no longer. They immediately came; - it was the morning before she died. They were introduced one at a time at her bed-side, and were prepared as much as possible for this sad scene. The women bore it very well, but all our feelings were awakened for her poor father. The interview between him and the dear angel was afflicting...
Page 239 - Thro' all the various turns of fate, Ordain'd me in each several state, My wayward lot has known ; What taught me silently to bear, To curb the sigh, to check the tear, When sorrow weigh'd me down ? 'Twas Patience ! temperate goddess, stay ! For still thy dictates I obey, Nor yield to passion's power ; Tho' by injurious foes borne down, My fame, my toil, my hopes o'erthrown, In one ill-fated hour.
Page 427 - The consolation which Sheridan derived from his little daughter was not long spared to him. In a letter, without a date, from the same amiable writer, the following account of her death is given : — " The circumstances attending this melancholy event were particularly distressing. A large party of young people were assembled at your brother's to spend a joyous evening in dancing. We were all in the height of our merriment, — he himself remarkably cheerful, and partaking of the amusement, when...
Page 424 - ... she could to comfort them under this severe trial. They then parted, in the hope of seeing her again in the evening, but they never saw her more ! Mr. Sheridan and I sat up all that night with her; indeed he had done so for several nights before, and never left her one moment that could be avoided. About four o'clock in the morning we perceived an alarming change, and sent for her physician. She said to him, ' If you can relieve me, do it quickly ; if not, do not let me struggle, but give me...
Page 432 - He kept it wrapped up in the tablecloth in his lap during the time of dinner, from an avidity to have one entertainment in readiness, when he should have finished another; resembling (if I may use so coarse a simile) a dog who holds a bone in his paws in reserve, while he eats something else which has...
Page 326 - Injuries may be atoned for and forgiven; but insults admit of no compensation. They degrade the mind in its own esteem, and force it to recover its level by revenge.

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