The Science of Elocution |
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Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Science of Elocution: With Exercises and Selections Systematically ... S. S. Hamill Visualització completa - 1879 |
The Science of Elocution: With Exercises and Selections Systematically ... S. S. Hamill Visualització completa - 1873 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
action appropriate Aspirate beautiful bells blood body breath close command dark dead death deep delivery earth effect Effusive Form elements Elocution emotion emphasis EXAMPLES EXERCISE Explosive expression Expulsive Form eyes face fall father fear feeling fire Force gesture give grace grave hand hath head hear heard heart heaven High honor hope Impassioned Inflection leave light living look Lord lower Median mind Moderate movement nature never night notes o'er once organs Orotund pass passions pauses Pectoral Pitch position practice Pure Tone quantity Radical reading require Rising seems sentiment short Slow soul sound speak speaker spirit stand Stress strong style sublimity sweet tears tell thee things Third thou thought true utterance voice wave whole young
Passatges populars
Pàgina 71 - We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope.
Pàgina 196 - Alas, poor Yorick ! I knew him, Horatio : a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy : he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar...
Pàgina 200 - For I can raise no money by vile means : By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash By any indirection.
Pàgina 124 - IT must be so — Plato, thou reason'st well ! — Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into nought ? why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; 'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man.
Pàgina 304 - Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable, and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come! " It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace; but there is no peace.
Pàgina 156 - Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country from whose bourn No traveler returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Pàgina 302 - Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation ? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth ; to know the worst, and to provide for it.
Pàgina 194 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...
Pàgina 205 - O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous, that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit, That, from her working, all his visage wann'd ; Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothing...
Pàgina 156 - The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; While the ploughman near at hand Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.