Chromatography; or, A treatise on colours and pigments, and of their powers in painting1864 |
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Chromatography, Or, A Treatise on Colours and Pigments, and of Their Powers ... George Field Visos knygos peržiūra - 1835 |
Chromatography, Or, A Treatise on Colours and Pigments, and of Their Powers ... George Field Visos knygos peržiūra - 1835 |
Chromatography, Or, A Treatise on Colours and Pigments, and of Their Powers ... George Field Visos knygos peržiūra - 1835 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
according afford antient artist beauty become bright brown burnt called Cappagh carmine chemical chromatic citrine Cobalt Green cochineal colourist compound contrast copal copper greens dark denomination dries drying oil durable effect employed essential oils expression fresco gamboge glazing gray green grey ground harmony hence hydrogen Idem impure air injurious lakes latter less light and shade linseed oil litharge lours madder madder lakes mastic ments MILTON mixed mixture modes Naples yellow nature neutral ochre olive opaque orange orpiment oxide oxygen painter painting palette perfect permanent picture pigments poets powers of colours practice prepared primary colours principles of light produced properties proportion Prussian blue pure purple relations rendered resins respect rose russet scarlet secondary semi-neutral SHAKSPERE Sienna Earth substances tertiary texture Titian tone transparent true ultramarine various varnish vehicle Venetian vermilion warm water and oil white lead yellow yellow lakes
Populiarios ištraukos
13 psl. - Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean : so, o'er that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race : this is an art ~\\ hich does mend nature, — change it rather ; but The art itself is nature.
238 psl. - Awake : The morning shines, and the fresh field Calls us ; we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tender plants, how blows the citron grove, What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, How nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet.
10 psl. - tis the mind that makes the body rich ; And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, So honour peereth in the meanest habit. What, is the jay more precious than the lark, Because his feathers are more beautiful ? Or is the adder better than the eel, Because his painted skin contents the eye ? O, no, good Kate ; neither art thou the worse For this poor furniture, and mean array.
262 psl. - Or find some ruin midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds or driving rain Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut That, from the mountain's side, Views wilds and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires ; And hears their simple bell; and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
298 psl. - The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry 'Hold, hold!
31 psl. - A blank, my lord : She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought ; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
124 psl. - And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow?
32 psl. - What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
230 psl. - Eye was fix'd on her alone. On her white Breast a sparkling Cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore. Her lively Looks a sprightly Mind disclose, Quick as her Eyes, and as...
210 psl. - No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar...