Memoirs of Charles Mathews, Comedian, Zväzok 4

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Strana 192 - Yet all this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king's gate.
Strana 430 - Nothing could exceed the correctness of his ear ; he spoke all the dialects of Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, with a fidelity perfectly miraculous. He could discriminate between the pronunciation of the different ridings of Yorkshire, and speak French with the Parisian accent, — the patois of the South, or the guttural tone of the Flemish.
Strana 440 - I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. . . . Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
Strana 458 - Mathews never appears to wish to be old ; time seems to have come to him, not he to time, and as he never, where he can avoid it, makes that show of feebleness which the vanity of age always would avoid, so he never forgets that general appearance of years, which the natural feebleness of age could not help.
Strana 412 - Ten times a day has Yorick's ghost the consolation to hear his monumental inscription read over with such a variety of plaintive tones, as denote a general pity and esteem for him; — a foot-way crossing the church-yard close by the side of his grave, - not a passenger goes by without stopping to cast a look upon it, - and sighing as he walks on, Alas, poor YORICK!
Strana 458 - The old age of Mr. Mathews is like the rest of his excellencies, perfectly unaffected and correct ; the appearance of years he manages so well, that many of his admirers, who have never seen him off the stage, insist that he is an elderly man, and the reason of this deception is evident : most of our comedians in their representation of age either make no alteration of their voice, and, like antiquarian cheats, palm a walking-stick or a hat upon us for something very ancient, or sink into so unnatural...
Strana 138 - (as some friends of ours christened Mr. Mathews, from his love of late hours) felt it time to retire, and leave Mr. Kemble, which he did as he saw him fall asleep, in the act of representing his idea of the scene of the sick king in Henry IV...
Strana 135 - What," asked his fond master, looking down upon him, " what is it you desire, my good friend ?" (Mus., alias Mathevvs, mewed once more, in a more supplicating and more touching tone.) "Well, well ! I understand you : you want to go to bed. Well, I suppose I must indulge you.
Strana 101 - THE BIRD CATCHER. A FABLE. A MIMIC I knew, To give him his due, Was exceeded by none, and was equalled by few. He could bark like a dog', He could grunt like a hog, Nay, I really believe he could croak like a frog. Then as for a bird, You may trust to my word, 'Twas the best imitation that you ever heard.
Strana 430 - He was, on the stage, what Hogarth was on canvass — a moral satirist: he did not imitate, he conceived and created characters, each one of which was recognised as a specimen of a class.

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