John Genest

“ They plot not on the stage, but on the town,
And in despair the empty pit to fill,
Set up some foreign monster in a bill:
Thus they jog on; still tricking, never thriving;
And murd’ring plays, which they miscall reviving. ”

“ The world’s a worthless sacrifice for her
More worth than thousand worlds. Let chaos come,
Confusion seize on all, whene’er we part;
Int’rest, ambition, piety, renown,
Pity, and reason, I have weigh’d ’em all,
But O how light! when love is in the scale.”
—Agamemnon observes of Achilles—
“Brave as he is, oft when the trumpet sounds,
He’ll loyter———
For aparting kiss from his Briseis.”
Ulysses says of Chruseis—
“The sick, who know they perish for her sake,
Crawl from their tents, to gaze upon her face,
And looking on her feel returns of strength.” ”