The Humours of the Court
Book Description
This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1893. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... She has fallen into a trap: she is bound to marry That fool St. Nicholas. I must persuade her To run away. Unless we meet, the moment Of all our life is past. R. I see it: I see it.-- And so she h...
MoreThis historic book may have numerous typos, missing text or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1893. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... She has fallen into a trap: she is bound to marry That fool St. Nicholas. I must persuade her To run away. Unless we meet, the moment Of all our life is past. R. I see it: I see it.-- And so she hath writ to me! Why should these words, Writ by her hand so set my heart adance? Is it beautiful? Nay,--but 'tis my name that leads Every direction of these little curves, Which, by long intercourse of hand and brain, 710 Were specialized to typify and betray The hiding spirit? There are such secrets here As dazzle lovers' eyes. She will be mine. She wrote me a letter once before in scorn, With studied terms of coldness: yet to me That seemed--I treasure it still--a lovers' meeting Of our two names on the same conscious page, A daring intimacy, her own betrothal. Was I deceived boasting so crazed a title? What saith she now? F. Ha! do not break the seal. 720 R. Is it not mine? F. She yet might ask it back: And 'twould betray us if I had given it up. R. Yes: you shall keep it till you start, and then Give it to me. You must discover of course That I am away from home, and leave the letter. Will not that do? F. This is my ruin, Richard: It means that I must be away to-night; And that prevents my meeting Laura; and that Leaves the field to my rival. Enter St. Nicholas. R. Hush! see, he comes. N. That paper you are in doubt of, gentlemen, 730 Is, I opine, the poem which I have lost:-- You picked it up in the garden?--a private trifle Which I'd recover gladly. R. I am sorry, sir, 'Tis no such lofty matter. A letter it is Sealed and addressed, which takes our friend away. But I can say with truth, I'd rate myself The happiest man in the world, could I believe That what I hold was fashioned ever so little In your romantic vein. N. You make me proud, sir. Yet, you should know, ...
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