A long, exact, and serious comedy;
In every scene some moral let it teach,
And, if it read more

A long, exact, and serious comedy;
In every scene some moral let it teach,
And, if it can, at once both please and preach.

Someone who's like Angelina Jolie because she isn't scared of not being pretty. She's my favourtie actress. I'd love a read more

Someone who's like Angelina Jolie because she isn't scared of not being pretty. She's my favourtie actress. I'd love a role like the one she played in 'Girl, Interrupted'. I've never met her.. I'd be so nervous! And star-struck!

If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good
play needs no epilogue.

If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good
play needs no epilogue.

Who teach the mind its proper face to scan,
And hold the faithful mirror up to man.

Who teach the mind its proper face to scan,
And hold the faithful mirror up to man.

There still remains to mortify a wit
The many-headed monster of the pit.

There still remains to mortify a wit
The many-headed monster of the pit.

Everybody has his own theatre, in which he is manager, actor,
prompter, playwright, sceneshifter, boxkeepeer, doorkeeper, all
in read more

Everybody has his own theatre, in which he is manager, actor,
prompter, playwright, sceneshifter, boxkeepeer, doorkeeper, all
in one, and audience into the bargain.

And Tragedy should blush as much to stoop
To the low mimic follies of a farce,
As read more

And Tragedy should blush as much to stoop
To the low mimic follies of a farce,
As a grave matron would to dance with girls.

Prologues like compliments are loss of time;
'Tis penning bows and making legs in rhyme.

Prologues like compliments are loss of time;
'Tis penning bows and making legs in rhyme.

Like hungry guests, a sitting audience looks;
Plays are like suppers; poets are the cooks.
The founder's read more

Like hungry guests, a sitting audience looks;
Plays are like suppers; poets are the cooks.
The founder's you: the table is the place:
The carvers we: the prologue is the grace.
Each act, a course, each scene, a different dish,
Though we're in Lent, I doubt you're still for flesh.
Satire's the sauce, high-season'd, sharp and rough.
Kind masks and beaux, I hope you're pepperproof?
Wit is the wine; but 'tis so scarce the true
Poets, like vintners, balderdash and brew.
Your surly scenes, where rant and bloodshed join.
Are butcher's meat, a battle's sirloin:
Your scenes of love, so flowing, soft and chaste,
Are water-gruel without salt or taste.