ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Youth, by Joseph ConradThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictionswhatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.orgTitle: YouthAuthor: Joseph ConradRelease Date: May 1996 [EBook #525]Posting Date: June 18, 2009Language: English*** START OF THISPROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUTH ***Produced by Judith Boss and David WidgerYOUTHA NARRATIVEBy Joseph Conrad  "... But the Dwarf answered: No;something human is dearer to me  than the wealth of all the world." GRIMM'S TALES.TO MY WIFEYOUTHThis could have occurred nowhere but in England, wheremen and seainterpenetrate, so to speak--the sea entering into the life of most men,and the men knowing something or everything about the sea, in the wayofamusement, of travel, or of bread-winning.We were sitting round a mahogany table that reflected the bottle, theclaret-glasses, and our faces as we leaned onour elbows. There was adirector of companies, an accountant, a lawyer, Marlow, and myself. Thedirector had been a _Conway_ boy, the accountant had servedfour years atsea, the lawyer--a fine crusted Tory, High Churchman, the best of oldfellows, the soul of honour--had been chief officer in the P. & O.service in thegood old days when mail-boats were square-rigged at leaston two masts, and used to come down the China Sea before a fair monsoonwith stun'-sails set alowand aloft. We all began life in the merchantservice. Between the five of us there was the strong bond of the sea,and also the fellowship of the craft, which noamount of enthusiasm foryachting, cruising, and so on can give, since one is only the amusementof life and the other is life itself.Marlow (at least I think that ishow he spelt his name) told the story,or rather the chronicle, of a voyage:"Yes, I have seen a little of the Eastern seas; but what I remember bestis my firstvoyage there. You fellows know there are those voyages thatseem ordered for the illustration of life, that might stand for a symbolof existence. You fight, work,sweat, nearly kill yourself, sometimes dokill yourself, trying to accomplish something--and you can't. Notfrom any fault of yours. You simply can do nothing,neither great norlittle--not a thing in the world--not even marry an old maid, or get awretched 600-ton cargo of coal to its port of destination."It was altogether amemorable affair. It was my first voyage to theEast, and my first voyage as second mate; it was also my skipper's firstcommand. You'll admit it was time. He wassixty if a day; a little man,with a broad, not very straight back, with bowed shoulders and one legmore bandy than the other, he had that queer twisted-aboutappearanceyou see so often in men who work in the fields. He had a nut-crackerface--chin and nose trying to come together over a sunken mouth--and itwasframed in iron-grey fluffy hair, that looked like a chin strap ofcotton-wool sprinkled with coal-dust. And he had blue eyes in thatold face of his, which wereamazingly like a boy's, with that candidexpression some quite common men preserve to the end of their days bya rare internal gift of simplicity of heart andrectitude of soul.What induced him to accept me was a wonder. I had come out of a crackAustralian clipper, where I had been third officer, and he seemed tohavea prejudice against crack clippers as aristocratic and high-toned.He said to me, 'You know, in this ship you will have to work.' I saidI had to work in every ship Ihad ever been in. 'Ah, but this isdifferent, and you gentlemen out of them big ships;... but there! Idare say you will do. Join to-morrow.'"I joined to-morrow. Itwas twenty-two years ago; and I was just twenty.How time passes! It was one of the happiest days of my life. Fancy!Second mate for the first time--a reallyresponsible officer! I wouldn'thave thrown up my new billet for a fortune. The mate looked me overcarefully. He was also an old chap, but of another stamp. Hehad a Romannose, a snow-white, long beard, and his name was Mahon, but he insistedthat it should be pronounced Mann. He was well connected; yet therewassomething wrong with his luck, and he had never got on."As to the captain, he had been for years in coasters, then in theMediterranean, and last in the WestIndian trade. He had never beenround the Capes. He could just write a kind of sketchy hand, and didn'tcare for writing at all. Both were thorough good seamen ofcourse,and between those two old chaps I felt like a small boy between twograndfathers."The ship also was old. Her name was the _Judea_. Queer name, isn'tit?She belonged to a man Wilmer, Wilcox--some name like that; but he hasbeen bankrupt and dead these twenty years or more, and his name don'tmatter. Shehad been laid up in Shadwell basin for ever so long. You mayimagine her state. She was all rust, dust, grime--soot aloft, dirt ondeck. To me it was like coming outof a palace into a ruined cottage.She was about 400 tons, had a primitive windlass, wooden latches to thedoors, not a bit of brass about her, and a big squarestern. There wason it, below her name in big letters, a lot of scroll work, with thegilt off, and some sort of a coat of arms, with the motto 'Do or Die'underneath. Iremember it took my fancy immensely. There was a touch ofromance in it, something that made me love the old thing--something thatappealed to my youth!"Weleft London in ballast--sand ballast--to load a cargo of coal in anorthern port for Bankok. Bankok! I thrilled. I had been six years atsea, but had only seenMelbourne and Sydney, very good places, charmingplaces in their way--but Bankok!"We worked out of the Thames under canvas, with a North Sea pilot onboard.His name was Jermyn, and he dodged all day long about the galleydrying his handkerchief before the stove. Apparently he never slept.He was a dismal man, witha perpetual tear sparkling at the end of hisnose, who either had been in trouble, or was in trouble, or expectedto be in trouble--couldn't be happy unlesssomething went wrong. Hemistrusted my youth, my common-sense, and my seamanship, and made apoint of showing it in a hundred little ways. I dare say hewas right.It seems to me I knew very little then, and I know not much more now;but I cherish a hate for that Jermyn to this day."We were a week working up asfar as Yarmouth Roads, and then we gotinto a gale--the famous October gale of twenty-two years ago. It waswind, lightning, sleet, snow, and a terrific sea. Wewere flying light,and you may imagine how bad it was when I tell you we had smashedbulwarks and a flooded deck. On the second night she shifted herballastinto the lee bow, and by that time we had been blown off somewhere onthe Dogger Bank. There was nothing for it but go below with shovels andtry toright her, and there we were in that vast hold, gloomy like acavern, the tallow dips stuck and flickering on the beams, the galehowling above, the ship tossingabout like mad on her side; there weall were, Jermyn, the captain, everyone, hardly able to keep our feet,engaged on that gravedigger's work, and trying to tossshovelfuls of wetsand up to windward. At every tumble of the ship you could see vaguelyin the dim light men falling down with a great flourish of shovels.One ofthe ship's boys (we had two), impressed by the weirdness of thescene, wept as if his heart would break. We could hear him blubberingsomewhere in theshadows."On the third day the gale died out, and by-and-by a north-country tugpicked us up. We took sixteen days in all to get from London to theTyne! Whenwe got into dock we had lost our turn for loading, and theyhauled us off to a tier where we remained for a month. Mrs. Beard (thecaptain's name was Beard)came from Colchester to see the old man. Shelived on board. The crew of runners had left, and there remained onlythe officers, one boy, and the steward, amulatto who answered to thename of Abraham. Mrs. Beard was an old woman, with a face all wrinkledand ruddy like a winter apple, and the figure of a younggirl. Shecaught sight of me once, sewing on a button, and insisted on having myshirts to repair. This was something different from the captains' wivesI hadknown on board crack clippers. When I brought her the shirts, shesaid: 'And the socks? They want mending, I am sure, and John's--CaptainBeard's--things are allin order now. I would be glad of something todo.' Bless the old woman! She overhauled my outfit for me, and meantimeI read for the first time _Sartor Resartus_and Burnaby's _Ride toKhiva_. I didn't understand much of the first then; but I remember Ipreferred the soldier to the philosopher at the time; a preferencewhichlife has only confirmed. One was a man, and the other was eithermore--or less. However, they are both dead, and Mrs. Beard is dead, andyouth, strength,genius, thoughts, achievements, simple hearts--all dies.... No matter."They loaded us at last. We shipped a crew. Eight able seamen and twoboys. We hauled offone evening to the buoys at the dock-gates, ready togo out, and with a fair prospect of beginning the voyage next day. Mrs.Beard was to start for home by a latetrain. When the ship was fastwe went to tea. We sat rather silent through the meal--Mahon, the oldcouple, and I. I finished first, and slipped away for a smoke,my cabinbeing in a deck-house just against the poop. It was high water, blowingfresh with a drizzle; the double dock-gates were opened, and the steamcollierswere going in and out in the darkness with their lights burningbright, a great plashing of propellers, rattling of winches, and a lotof hailing on the pier-heads. Iwatched the procession of head-lightsgliding high and of green lights gliding low in the night, when suddenlya red gleam flashed at me, vanished, came into viewagain, and remained.The fore-end of a steamer loomed up close. I shouted down the cabin,'Come up, quick!' and then heard a startled voice saying afar inthedark, 'Stop her, sir.' A bell jingled. Another voice cried warningly,'We are going right into that barque, sir.' The answer to this was agruff 'All right,' and thenext thing was a heavy crash as the steamerstruck a glancing blow with the bluff of her bow about our fore-rigging.There was a moment of confusion, yelling, andrunning about. Steamroared. Then somebody was heard saying, 'All clear, sir.'... 'Areyou all right?' asked the gruff voice. I had jumped forward to seethedamage, and hailed back, 'I think so.' 'Easy astern,' said the gruffvoice. A bell jingled. 'What steamer is that?' screamed Mahon. By thattime she was no moreto us than a bulky shadow maneuvering a littleway off. They shouted at us some name--a woman's name, Miranda orMelissa--or some such thing. 'This meansanother month in this beastlyhole,' said Mahon to me, as we peered with lamps about the splinteredbulwarks and broken braces. 'But where's the captain?'"Wehad not heard or seen anything of him all that time. We went aft tolook. A doleful voice arose hailing somewhere in the middle of the dock,'_Judea_ ahoy!'... Howthe devil did he get there?... 'Hallo!' weshouted. 'I am adrift in our boat without oars,' he cried. A belatedwaterman offered his services, and Mahon struck abargain with him forhalf-a-crown to tow our skipper alongside; but it was Mrs. Beard thatcame up the ladder first. They had been floating about the dock in


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Way of the World, by William CongreveThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and mostotherparts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms ofthe Project GutenbergLicense included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll haveto check the laws of the country whereyou are located before using this ebook.Title: The Way of the World       A ComedyAuthor: William CongreveRelease Date: January 25, 2015  [eBook #1292][Thisfile was first posted on March 26, 1998]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: UTF-8***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAY OF THEWORLD***Transcribed from the 1895 Methuen & Co. edition (_Comedies of WilliamCongreve_, _Volume_ 2) by David Price, emailccx074@pglaf.org                           THE WAY OF THE WORLD                                 A COMEDY    _Audire est operÃ¦ pretium_, _procedere recte_    _QuimÃ¦chis non vultis_.âHOR. _Sat._ i. 2, 37.    â_Metuat doti deprensa_.â_Ibid_.TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLERALPH, EARL OF MOUNTAGUE, ETC.MYLORD,âWhether the world will arraign me of vanity or not, that I havepresumed to dedicate this comedy to your lordship, I am yet in doubt;though, it maybe, it is some degree of vanity even to doubt of it.  Onewho has at any time had the honour of your lordshipâs conversation,cannot be supposed to think verymeanly of that which he would prefer toyour perusal.  Yet it were to incur the imputation of too muchsufficiency to pretend to such a merit as might abide the testof yourlordshipâs censure.Whatever value may be wanting to this play while yet it is mine, will besufficiently made up to it when it is once become yourlordshipâs; and itis my security, that I cannot have overrated it more by my dedicationthan your lordship will dignify it by your patronage.That it succeededon the stage was almost beyond my expectation; for butlittle of it was prepared for that general taste which seems now to bepredominant in the palates of ouraudience.Those characters which are meant to be ridiculed in most of our comediesare of fools so gross, that in my humble opinion they should ratherdisturb thandivert the well-natured and reflecting part of an audience;they are rather objects of charity than contempt, and instead of movingour mirth, they ought very oftento excite our compassion.This reflection moved me to design some characters which should appearridiculous not so much through a natural folly (which isincorrigible,and therefore not proper for the stage) as through an affected wit: a witwhich, at the same time that it is affected, is also false.  As there issomedifficulty in the formation of a character of this nature, so thereis some hazard which attends the progress of its success upon the stage:for many come to a playso overcharged with criticism, that they veryoften let fly their censure, when through their rashness they havemistaken their aim.  This I had occasion lately toobserve: for this playhad been acted two or three days before some of these hasty judges couldfind the leisure to distinguish betwixt the character of a Witwoudand aTruewit.I must beg your lordshipâs pardon for this digression from the truecourse of this epistle; but that it may not seem altogether impertinent,I begthat I may plead the occasion of it, in part of that excuse ofwhich I stand in need, for recommending this comedy to your protection.It is only by the countenanceof your lordship, and the _few_ soqualified, that such who write with care and pains can hope to bedistinguished: for the prostituted name of poet promiscuouslylevels allthat bear it.Terence, the most correct writer in the world, had a Scipio and a Lelius,if not to assist him, at least to support him in hisreputation.  Andnotwithstanding his extraordinary merit, it may be their countenance wasnot more than necessary.The purity of his style, the delicacy of histurns, and the justness ofhis characters, were all of them beauties which the greater part of hisaudience were incapable of tasting.  Some of the coarsest strokesofPlautus, so severely censured by Horace, were more likely to affect themultitude; such, who come with expectation to laugh at the last act of aplay, and arebetter entertained with two or three unseasonable jeststhan with the artful solution of the fable.As Terence excelled in his performances, so had he greatadvantages toencourage his undertakings, for he built most on the foundations ofMenander: his plots were generally modelled, and his characters readydrawn tohis hand.  He copied Menander; and Menander had no less light inthe formation of his characters from the observations of Theophrastus, ofwhom he was adisciple; and Theophrastus, it is known, was not only thedisciple, but the immediate successor of Aristotle, the first andgreatest judge of poetry.  These weregreat models to design by; and thefurther advantage which Terence possessed towards giving his plays thedue ornaments of purity of style, and justness ofmanners, was not lessconsiderable from the freedom of conversation which was permitted himwith Lelius and Scipio, two of the greatest and most polite men ofhisage.  And, indeed, the privilege of such a conversation is the onlycertain means of attaining to the perfection of dialogue.If it has happened in any part of thiscomedy that I have gained a turnof style or expression more correct, or at least more corrigible, than inthose which I have formerly written, I must, with equalpride andgratitude, ascribe it to the honour of your lordshipâs admitting me intoyour conversation, and that of a society where everybody else was sowellworthy of you, in your retirement last summer from the town: for it wasimmediately after, that this comedy was written.  If I have failed in myperformance, itis only to be regretted, where there were so many notinferior either to a Scipio or a Lelius, that there should be one wantingequal in capacity to a Terence.If I amnot mistaken, poetry is almost the only art which has not yetlaid claim to your lordshipâs patronage.  Architecture and painting, tothe great honour of ourcountry, have flourished under your influence andprotection.  In the meantime, poetry, the eldest sister of all arts, andparent of most, seems to have resignedher birthright, by havingneglected to pay her duty to your lordship, and by permitting others of alater extraction to prepossess that place in your esteem, to whichnonecan pretend a better title.  Poetry, in its nature, is sacred to the goodand great: the relation between them is reciprocal, and they are everpropitious to it.  Itis the privilege of poetry to address them, and itis their prerogative alone to give it protection.This received maxim is a general apology for all writers whoconsecratetheir labours to great men: but I could wish, at this time, that thisaddress were exempted from the common pretence of all dedications; andthat as Ican distinguish your lordship even among the most deserving, sothis offering might become remarkable by some particular instance ofrespect, which shouldassure your lordship that I am, with all due senseof your extreme worthiness and humanity, my lord, your lordshipâs mostobedient and most obliged humbleservant,                                                           WILL. CONGREVE.PROLOGUE.                         Spoken by MR. BETTERTON.   OF those few fools, who with illstars are curst,   Sure scribbling fools, called poets, fare the worst:   For theyâre a sort of fools which fortune makes,   And, after she has made âemfools, forsakes.   With Natureâs oafs âtis quite a diffârent case,   For Fortune favours all her idiot race.   In her own nest the cuckoo eggs wefind,   Oâer which she broods to hatch the changeling kind:   No portion for her own she has to spare,   So much she dotes on her adopted care.   Poets arebubbles, by the town drawn in,   Suffered at first some trifling stakes to win:   But what unequal hazards do they run!   Each time they write they venture alltheyâve won:   The Squire thatâs buttered still, is sure to be undone.   This author, heretofore, has found your favour,   But pleads no merit from his pastbehaviour.   To build on that might prove a vain presumption,   Should grants to poets made admit resumption,   And in Parnassus he must lose his seat,   If thatbe found a forfeited estate.   He owns, with toil he wrought the following scenes,   But if theyâre naught neâer spare him for his pains:   Damn him themore; have no commiseration   For dulness on mature deliberation.   He swears heâll not resent one hissed-off scene,   Nor, like those peevish wits, his playmaintain,   Who, to assert their sense, your taste arraign.   Some plot we think he has, and some new thought;   Some humour too, no farceâbut thatâs afault.   Satire, he thinks, you ought not to expect;   For so reformed a town who dares correct?   To please, this time, has been his sole pretence,   Heâll notinstruct, lest it should give offence.   Should he by chance a knave or fool expose,   That hurts none here, sure here are none of those.   In short, our play shall(with your leave to show it)   Give you one instance of a passive poet,   Who to your judgments yields all resignation:   So save or damn, after your owndiscretion.DRAMATIS PERSONÃ.                                 MEN.FAINALL, in love with Mrs. Marwood,              _Mr. Betterton_.MIRABELL, in love with Mrs.Millamant,           _Mr. Verbruggen_.WITWOUD, follower of Mrs. Millamant,             _Mr. Bowen_.PETULANT, follower of Mrs. Millamant,            _Mr.Bowman_.SIR WILFULL WITWOUD, half brother to Witwoud,    _Mr. Underhill_.and nephew to Lady Wishfort,WAITWELL, servant to Mirabell,                   _Mr.Bright_.                                WOMEN.LADY WISHFORT, enemy to Mirabell, for having     _Mrs. Leigh_.falsely pretended love to her,MRS. MILLAMANT, a finelady, niece to Lady       _Mrs. Bracegirdle_.Wishfort, and loves Mirabell,MRS. MARWOOD, friend to Mr. Fainall, and likes   _Mrs. Barry_.Mirabell,MRS. FAINALL,daughter to Lady Wishfort, and     _Mrs. Bowman_.wife to Fainall, formerly friend to Mirabell,FOIBLE, woman to Lady Wishfort,                  _Mrs.Willis_.MINCING, woman to Mrs. Millamant,                _Mrs. Prince_.                      DANCERS, FOOTMEN, ATTENDANTS.                              SCENE:London.              _The time equal to that of the presentation_.ACT I.âSCENE I.                           _A Chocolate-house_.      MIRABELL _and_ FAINALL _risingfrom cards_.  BETTY _waiting_.MIRA.  You are a fortunate man, Mr. Fainall.FAIN.  Have we done?MIRA.  What you please.  Iâll play on to entertainyou.FAIN.  No, Iâll give you your revenge another time, when you are not soindifferent; you are thinking of something else now, and play toonegligently: thecoldness of a losing gamester lessens the pleasure ofthe winner.  Iâd no more play with a man that slighted his ill fortunethan Iâd make love to a womanwho undervalued the loss of her reputation.MIRA.  You have a taste extremely delicate, and are for refining on yourpleasures.FAIN.  Prithee, why soreserved?  Something has put you out of humour.MIRA.  Not at all: I happen to be grave to-day, and you are gay; thatâsall.FAIN.  Confess, Millamant and


<title>Cradle 2 the Grave Script at IMSDb.</title><meta name="description" content="Cradle 2 the Grave script at the Internet Movie ScriptDatabase."><meta name="keywords" content="Cradle 2 the Grave script, Cradle 2 the Grave movie script, Cradle 2 the Grave film script"><metaname="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" /><meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true"><meta http-equiv="content-type"content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"><meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN"><meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document><metaname=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX, FOLLOW"><meta name=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts"><meta name=rating CONTENT=General><metaname=distribution content=Global><meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days"><link href="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css"><bodytopmargin="0" bottommargin="0" id="mainbody">

     <tdvalign="bottom" bgcolor="#FF0000">
The Internet Movie Script Database(IMSDb)

      <ahref="https://www.imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database">
The web's largest
movie script resource!

           Search IMSDb
<form method="post" action="/search.php">             <divalign="center">                <input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">                <input type="submit" value="Go!"name="submit">
	</form>

Alphabetical
        #         A        <ahref="/alphabetical/B">B        C        D        <ahref="/alphabetical/E">E        F        G        <ahref="/alphabetical/H">H
         I        J        <ahref="/alphabetical/K">K        L        M        <ahref="/alphabetical/N">N        O        P        <ahref="/alphabetical/Q">Q
         R        S        <ahref="/alphabetical/T">T        U        V        <ahref="/alphabetical/W">W        X        Y        <ahref="/alphabetical/Z">Z

Genre
 Action Adventure <ahref="/genre/Animation">Animation
 Comedy Crime <ahref="/genre/Drama">Drama
 Family Fantasy <ahref="/genre/Film-Noir">Film-Noir
 Horror Musical <ahref="/genre/Mystery">Mystery
 Romance Sci-Fi <ahref="/genre/Short">Short
 Thriller War <ahref="/genre/Western">Western

  Sponsor

<tablewidth="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
TV Transcripts
 <ahref="/TV/Futurama.html">Futurama
 Seinfeld
 SouthPark
 Stargate SG-1
 Lost
 The 4400

International
 <ahref="/language/French">French scripts

<tdclass=heading>Movie Software

Rip from DVD
 Rip Blu-Ray

Latest Comments
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10
Star Wars: TheForce Awakens10/10
Batman Begins9/10
Collateral10/10
Jackie Brown8/10

Movie Chat
 <form class="yellbox"action="https://www.yellbox.com/addmessage.php" method="post" target="ybframe" name="yellform">  <input type="hidden" name="sub_username"value="imsdb"> <input class="yellbox" name="sub_name" value="Name" size=21 maxlength=10 onFocus="if(this.value == 'Name')this.value = '';return;">
 <textarea class="yellbox" cols=15 rows=4 name="sub_message" wrap onFocus="if(this.value == 'Message')this.value = '';return;">Message</textarea>

 <button onClick="javascript:makeNewWindow(); return false;"><imgsrc="https://www.yellbox.com/images/smiley.gif" width=16 height=16></button> <button type="submit" value="Post" onClick="returnclearMessageBox();">Yell !</button>
</form>

      ALLSCRIPTS

CRADLE TO THEGRAVE             Written by  John O'Brien and Channing Gibson              Story by            John O'Brien          May 2002 Draft      FOREDUCATIONAL       PURPOSES ONLY                                                                 2.FADE IN:EXT. STREETS (LOSANGELES) - DAYEnd of the day.     An armored truck moves through the city ofLos Angeles.EXT. JEWELRY EXCHANGE - DAYThe armored truckpulls up. An ARMORED TRUCK GUARD emergesfrom the back with a satchel and heads inside.INT. JEWELRY EXCHANGE - LOBBY - CONTINUOUSACTIONA large foyer. Security station and elevators. PARTY SOUNDScan be heard from a second floor balcony.DOUGLAS is the security guard manning thestation. Seeingthe Armored car Guard entering, he picks up the phone anddials. Beat. Into phone --                         DOUGLAS           Last delivery'sfinally here.The Armored Truck Guard approaches the security station. Ashe and Douglas exchange paperwork, the Armored Truck Guardreferences the soundsfrom upstairs --                           ARMORED TRUCK GUARD           Party?                         DOUGLAS           Introducing a new line ofjewelry.                         ARMORED TRUCK GUARD           Wife wants me to buy her a ruby ring.           Told her to spend a little time with           thefamily jewels first.PING. An ELEVATOR opens. A second security guard's inside.Handing over the satchel and heading out --                           ARMOREDTRUCK GUARD           Keep it real.INT. ELEVATOR - CONTINUOUS ACTIONWe see the security guard with the satchel use a key-card togain


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Godfrey Morgan, by Jules VerneThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictionswhatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.orgTitle: Godfrey Morgan       A Californian MysteryAuthor: Jules VerneRelease Date: November 15, 2007 [EBook #23489]Language: English***START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GODFREY MORGAN ***Produced by Taavi Kalju, Martin Pettit and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team athttp://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)GODFREY MORGANACALIFORNIAN MYSTERYBYJULES VERNEILLUSTRATED_AUTHOR'S COPYRIGHT EDITION_LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & COMPANY,_Limited_.[Illustration: "Going! Going!" _page 15_]CONTENTS.CHAPTER I.                                                                PAGEIn which the reader has theopportunity of buying an Island inthe Pacific Ocean                                                  1CHAPTER II.How William W. Kolderup, of San Francisco, was atloggerheadswith J. R. Taskinar, of Stockton                                  11CHAPTER III.The conversation of Phina Hollaney and Godfrey Morgan, witha pianoaccompaniment                                             24CHAPTER IV.In which T. Artelett, otherwise Tartlet, is duly introducedto thereader                                                     35CHAPTER V.In which they prepare to go, and at the end of which they goforgood                                                          43CHAPTER VI.In which the reader makes the acquaintance of a new personage     53CHAPTER VII.In which it willbe seen that William W. Kolderup was probablyright in insuring his ship                                        62CHAPTER VIII.Which leads Godfrey to bitter reflections onthe mania fortravelling                                                        77CHAPTER IX.In which it is shown that Crusoes do not have everything astheywish                                                         91CHAPTER X.In which Godfrey does what any other shipwrecked man wouldhave done under thecircumstances                                104CHAPTER XI.In which the question of lodging is solved as well as itcouldbe                                                         117CHAPTER XII.Which ends with a thunder-bolt                                   129CHAPTER XIII.In which Godfrey again seesa slight smoke over another partof the Island                                                    143CHAPTER XIV.Wherein Godfrey finds some wreckage, to which he andhiscompanion give a hearty welcome                                  155CHAPTER XV.In which there happens what happens at least once in the lifeof every Crusoe, realor imaginary                               167CHAPTER XVI.In which something happens which cannot fail to surprisethereader                                                           179CHAPTER XVII.In which Professor Tartlet's gun really does marvels             190CHAPTER XVIII.Whichtreats of the moral and physical education of a simplenative of the Pacific                                            203CHAPTER XIX.In which the situation already gravelycompromised becomesmore and more complicated                                        216CHAPTER XX.In which Tartlet reiterates in every key that he would ratherbeoff                                                           228CHAPTER XXI.Which ends with quite a surprising reflection by thenegroCarefinotu                                                       242CHAPTER XXII.Which concludes by explaining what up to now hadappearedinexplicable                                                     260GODFREY MORGAN.CHAPTER I.IN WHICH THE READER HAS THE OPPORTUNITY OF BUYING ANISLAND IN THEPACIFIC OCEAN."An island to sell, for cash, to the highest bidder!" said Dean Felporg,the auctioneer, standing behind his rostrum in the roomwhere theconditions of the singular sale were being noisily discussed."Island for sale! island for sale!" repeated in shrill tones again andagain Gingrass, the crier,who was threading his way in and out of theexcited crowd closely packed inside the largest saloon in the auctionmart at No. 10, Sacramento Street.The crowdconsisted not only of a goodly number of Americans from theStates of Utah, Oregon, and California, but also of a few Frenchmen, whoform quite a sixth of thepopulation.Mexicans were there enveloped in their sarapes; Chinamen in theirlarge-sleeved tunics, pointed shoes, and conical hats; one or twoKanucks from thecoast; and even a sprinkling of Black Feet,Grosventres, or Flatheads, from the banks of the Trinity river.The scene is in San Francisco, the capital of California, butnot at theperiod when the placer-mining fever was raging--from 1849 to 1852. SanFrancisco was no longer what it had been then, a caravanserai, aterminus, an_inn_, where for a night there slept the busy men who werehastening to the gold-fields west of the Sierra Nevada. At the end ofsome twenty years the oldunknown Yerba-Buena had given place to a townunique of its kind, peopled by 100,000 inhabitants, built under theshelter of a couple of hills, away from theshore, but stretching off tothe farthest heights in the background--a city in short which hasdethroned Lima, Santiago, Valparaiso, and every other rival, andwhichthe Americans have made the queen of the Pacific, the "glory of thewestern coast!"It was the 15th of May, and the weather was still cold. InCalifornia,subject as it is to the direct action of the polar currents, the firstweeks of this month are somewhat similar to the last weeks of March inCentral Europe.But the cold was hardly noticeable in the thick of theauction crowd. The bell with its incessant clangour had broughttogether an enormous throng, and quite asummer temperature caused thedrops of perspiration to glisten on the foreheads of the spectatorswhich the cold outside would have soon solidified.Do notimagine that all these folks had come to the auction-room withthe intention of buying. I might say that all of them had but come tosee. Who was going to be madenough, even if he were rich enough, topurchase an isle of the Pacific, which the government had in someeccentric moment decided to sell? Would the reserveprice ever bereached? Could anybody be found to work up the bidding? If not, it wouldscarcely be the fault of the public crier, who tried his best to temptbuyersby his shoutings and gestures, and the flowery metaphors of hisharangue. People laughed at him, but they did not seem much influencedby him."An island! anisle to sell!" repeated Gingrass."But not to buy!" answered an Irishman, whose pocket did not hold enoughto pay for a single pebble."An island which at thevaluation will not fetch six dollars an acre!"said the auctioneer."And which won't pay an eighth per cent.!" replied a big farmer, who waswell acquainted withagricultural speculations."An isle which measures quite sixty-four miles round and has an area oftwo hundred and twenty-five thousand acres!""Is it solid on itsfoundation?" asked a Mexican, an old customer at theliquor-bars, whose personal solidity seemed rather doubtful at themoment."An isle with forests still virgin!"repeated the crier, "with prairies,hills, watercourses--""Warranted?" asked a Frenchman, who seemed rather inclined to nibble."Yes! warranted!" added Felporg,much too old at his trade to be movedby the chaff of the public."For two years?""To the end of the world!""Beyond that?""A freehold island!" repeated the crier,"an island without a singlenoxious animal, no wild beasts, no reptiles!--""No birds?" added a wag."No insects?" inquired another."An island for the highest bidder!"said Dean Felporg, beginning again."Come, gentlemen, come! Have a little courage in your pockets! Who wantsan island in perfect state of repair, never beenused, an island in thePacific, that ocean of oceans? The valuation is a mere nothing! It isput at eleven hundred thousand dollars, is there any one will bid?Whospeaks first? You, sir?--you, over there nodding your head like aporcelain mandarin? Here is an island! a really good island! Who says anisland?""Pass itround!" said a voice as if they were dealing with a picture ora vase.And the room shouted with laughter, but not a half-dollar was bid.However, if the lot could notbe passed round, the map of the island wasat the public disposal. The whereabouts of the portion of the globeunder consideration could be accuratelyascertained. There was neithersurprise nor disappointment to be feared in that respect. Situation,orientation, outline, altitudes, levels, hydrography, climatology,linesof communication, all these were easily to be verified in advance.People were not buying a pig in a poke, and most undoubtedly there couldbe no mistake asto the nature of the goods on sale. Moreover, theinnumerable journals of the United States, especially those ofCalifornia, with their dailies, bi-weeklies, weeklies,bi-monthlies,monthlies, their reviews, magazines, bulletins, &c., had been forseveral months directing constant attention to the island whose sale byauction hadbeen authorized by Act of Congress.The island was Spencer Island, which lies in the west-south-west of theBay of San Francisco, about 460 miles from theCalifornian coast, in 32Â°15' north latitude, and 145Â° 18' west longitude, reckoning fromGreenwich. It would be impossible to imagine a more isolatedposition,quite out of the way of all maritime or commercial traffic, althoughSpencer Island was relatively, not very far off, and situatedpractically in Americanwaters. But thereabouts the regular currentsdiverging to the north and south have formed a kind of lake of calms,which is sometimes known as the "Whirlpool ofFleurieu."It is in the centre of this enormous eddy, which has hardly anappreciable movement, that Spencer Island is situated. And so it issighted by very fewships. The main routes of the Pacific, which jointhe new to the old continent, and lead away to China or Japan, run in amore southerly direction. Sailing-vesselswould meet with endless calmsin the Whirlpool of Fleurieu; and steamers, which always take theshortest road, would gain no advantage by crossing it. Henceships ofneither class know anything of Spencer Island, which rises above thewaters like the isolated summit of one of the submarine mountains of thePacific.Truly, for a man wishing to flee from the noise of the world,seeking quiet in solitude, what could be better than this island, lostwithin a few hundred miles of thecoast? For a voluntary RobinsonCrusoe, it would be the very ideal of its kind! Only of course he mustpay for it.And now, why did the United States desire to partwith the island? Wasit for some whim? No! A great nation cannot act on caprice in anymatter, however simple. The truth was this: situated as it was,SpencerIsland had for a long time been known as a station perfectly useless.There could be no practical result from settling there. In a militarypoint of view it wasof no importance, for it only commanded anabsolutely deserted portion of the Pacific. In a commercial point ofview there was a similar want of importance, for the


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Comrades, by Thomas DixonThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictionswhatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.orgTitle: Comrades       A Story of Social Adventure in CaliforniaAuthor: Thomas DixonIllustrator: C. D. WilliamsRelease Date: March 1, 2011[EBook #35447]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMRADES ***Produced by David Edwards, Jeannie Howse and theOnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The InternetArchive)       *       *       *       *       *    +-----------------------------------------------------------+    | Transcriber'sNote:                                       |    |                                                           |    | Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has     |    | beenpreserved.                                           |    |                                                           |    | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For     |    | acomplete list, please see the end of this document.     |    |                                                           |    +-----------------------------------------------------------+       *       *       *       *       *Comrades[Illustration]Thomas Dixon JR.    [Illustration: NORMAN CLASPED HER IN HIS ARMS.]  COMRADES  _A STORY OF SOCIALADVENTURE  IN CALIFORNIA_  BY  THOMAS DIXON, Jr.  Illustrated by  C.D. WILLIAMS  [Illustration]  GROSSET & DUNLAP  Publishers  ::  New York  ALL RIGHTSRESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION  INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN  COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY THOMAS DIXON,JR.  PUBLISHED, JANUARY, 1909  DEDICATED TO  THE DEAREST LITTLE  GIRL IN THE WORLD, MYDAUGHTER  LOUISECONTENTSCHAPTER                                                      PAGE       I. The Woman in Red                                      3      II. A New Joan ofArc                                    19     III. The Birth of a Man                                   31      IV. Among the Shadows                                    37       V. The Island ofVentura                                48      VI. The Red Flag                                         56     VII. Father and Son                                       73    VIII. Through theEyes of Love                             85      IX. A Faded Picture                                      90       X. Son and Father                                       93      XI. The Way of aWoman                                  103     XII. A Royal Gift                                        105    XIII. The Burning of the Bridges                          110     XIV. The NewWorld                                       118      XV. For the Cause                                       123     XVI. Barbara Chooses a Profession                        130    XVII. ACall for Heroes                                   134   XVIII. A New Aristocracy                                   151     XIX. Some Troubles inHeaven                             166      XX. The Unconventional                                  181     XXI. A Pair of Cold Gray Eyes                            186    XXII. TheFighting Instinct                               192   XXIII. The Cords Tighten                                   207    XXIV. Some InterrogationPoints                           212     XXV. The Master Hand                                     224    XXVI. At the Parting of the Ways                          235   XXVII. The Fruitsof Patience                              246  XXVIII. The New Master                                      257    XXIX. A Test of Strength                                  269     XXX. AVision from the Hilltop                           274    XXXI. In Love and War                                     283   XXXII. A PrimitiveLover                                   291  XXXIII. Equality                                            295   XXXIV. A Brother to the Beast                              306    XXXV. Love andLocksmiths                                 313   XXXVI. The Shining Emblem                                  318LEADING CHARACTERS OF THE STORY_Scene_: California._Time_: 1898-1901  NORMAN WORTH            An Amateur Socialist  COLONEL WORTH           His Father  ELENA STOCKTON          The Colonel's Ward  HERMANWOLF             A Socialist Leader  CATHERINE               His Affinity Wife  BARBARA BOZENTA         A New Joan of Arc  METHODIST JOHN          A Pauper  TOMMOONEY              A Miner  JOHN DIGGS              A Truth Seeker  ROLAND ADAIR            Bard of RamcatILLUSTRATIONS  "Norman clasped her in hisarms"                 _Frontispiece_                                                      FACING PAGE  "'Lift the flag back to itsplace!'"                         72  Barbara                                                     214  "Wolf graspedher"                                          292COMRADESCOMRADESCHAPTER ITHE WOMAN IN RED"Fools and fanatics!"Colonel Worth crumpled the morning paper with agesture of rage andwalked to the window.Elena followed softly and laid her hand on his arm."What is it, Guardie? I thought you were supremely happy thismorningover the news that Dewey has smashed the Spanish fleet?""And so I am, little girl," was the gentle reply, "or was until my eyefell on this call of theSocialists for a meeting to-night to denouncethe war--denounce the men who are dying for the flag. Read theirsummons."He opened the crumpled sheet andpointed to its head lines:"Down with the Stars and Stripes--up with the Red Flag ofRevolution--the symbol of universal human brotherhood! Come and bringyourfriends. A big surprise for all!" The Colonel's jaws snappedsuddenly."I'd like to give them the surprise they need to-night.""What?" Elena asked."A serenade.""Aserenade?""Yes, with Mauser rifles and Gatling guns. I'd mow them down as Iwould a herd of wild beasts loose in the streets of San Francisco.""Merely for adifference of opinion, Governor?" lazily broke in avoice from the depths of a heavy armchair."If you want to put it so, Norman, yes. Opinions, my boy, aretheessence of life--they may lead to heaven or hell. Opinions makecowards or heroes, patriots or traitors, criminals or saints.""But you believe in free speech?"persisted the boy."Yes. And that's more than any Socialist can say. I don't deny theirright to speak their message. What I can't understand is how thepeople whohave been hounded from the tyrant-ridden countries of theold world and found shelter and protection beneath our flag shouldturn thus to curse the hand thatshields them.""But if they propose to give you a better flag, Governor?" drawled thelazy voice. "Why not consider?""Look, Elena! Did the sun ever shine onanything more beautiful? Seeit fluttering from a thousand house-tops--the proud emblem of humanfreedom and human progress! Dewey has lifted it this morningon thefoulest slave-pen of the Orient--the flag that has never met defeat.The one big faith in me is the belief that Almighty God inspired ourfathers to build thisRepublic--the noblest dream yet conceived by themind of man. Dewey has sunk a tyrant fleet and conquered an empire ofslaves without the loss of a single man.The God of our fathers waswith him. We have a message for the swarming millions of the East----""Pardon the interruption, Governor, but I must hold the mirrorup tonature just a moment--your portrait sketched by the poet-laureate ofthe English-speaking world. He speaks of the American:    "Enslaved, illogical,elate.      He greets the embarrassed gods, nor fears    To shake the iron hand of Fate      Or match with Destiny for beers.    "Lo! imperturbable herules,      Unkempt, disreputable, vast--    And in the teeth of all the schools      I--I shall save him at the last!"The Colonel smiled."How do you like thepicture?""Not bad for an Englishman, Norman. You know we licked Englandtwice----""And we kin do it again, b' gosh, can't we?" blustered the younger manwithmock heroics."You can bet we can, my son!" continued the Colonel, quietly. "Theroar of Dewey's guns are echoing round the world this morning. Thelesson willnot be lost. You will observe that even your English poetforesees at last our salvation.    "'And in the teeth of all the schools      I--I shall save him at thelast!'""Even in spite of the Socialists?" queried the boy, with a grin."In spite of every foe--even those within our own household. War isthe searchlight of history,the great revealer of national life, ofhidden strength and unexpected weakness. I saw it in the Civilconflict--I've seen it in this little struggle----""Then you doacknowledge it's not the greatest struggle inhistory--that's something to be thankful for in these days ofpatriotism," exclaimed Norman, rising and stretchinghimself beforethe open fire while he winked mischievously at Elena."It's big enough, my boy, to show us the truth about our nation. Ourold problems are nolonger real. The Union our fathers dreamed hascome at last. We are one people--one out of many--and we can whipSpain before breakfast----""With one handtied behind our back!" laughed the boy."Yes, and blindfolded. It will be easy. But the next serious job willbe to bury a half million deluded fools in this country whocallthemselves Socialists."The Colonel paused and a look of foreboding clouded his face as hegazed from the window of his house on Nob Hill over the city ofSanFrancisco, which he loved with a devotion second only to hispassionate enthusiasm for the Union.Elena sat watching him in silent sympathy. He was the oneperfect manof her life dreams, the biggest, strongest, tenderest soul she hadever known. Since the day she crept into his arms a lonely littleorphan ten years oldshe had worshipped him as father, mother,guardian, lover, friend--all in one. She had accepted Norman's loveand promised to be his wife more to please hisfather than from anyoverwhelming passion for the handsome, lazy young athlete. It had comeabout as a matter of course because Colonel Worth wished it.TheColonel turned from the window, and his eyes rested on Elena'supturned face."It will be bloody work--but we've got to do it----"Elena sprang to her feet with astart and a laugh."Do what, Guardie? I forgot what you were talking about.""Then don't worry your pretty head about it, dear. It's a job we menwill look after indue time."He stooped and kissed her forehead. "By-by until to-night--I'll dropdown to the club and hear the latest from the front."With the firm, swinging stride ofa man who lives in the open theColonel passed through the door of the library."Norman, I can't realize that you two are father and son--he looksmore like yourbrother.""At least my older brother----""Yes, of course, but you would never take him for a man offorty-eight. I like the touch of gray in his hair. It meansdignity,strength, experience. I've always hated sap-headed youngsters.""Say, Elena, for heaven's sake, who are you in love with anyhow--withme or theGovernor?"A smile flickered around the corners of the girl's eyes and mouthbefore she slowly answered:"I sometimes think I really love you both, Norman--butthere aretimes when I have doubts about you.""Thanks. I suppose I must be duly grateful for small favours, or elseresign myself to call you 'Mother.'""Would such


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Iola Leroy, by Frances E.W. HarperThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictionswhatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.netTitle: Iola Leroy       Shadows UpliftedAuthor: Frances E.W. HarperRelease Date: May 14, 2004 [EBook #12352]Language: English*** STARTOF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IOLA LEROY ***Produced by Suzanne Shell and PG Distributed ProofreadersIOLA LEROY,ORSHADOWSUPLIFTED.BYFRANCES E.W. HARPER.1893, PhiladelphiaTO MY DAUGHTERMARY E. HARPER,THIS BOOK IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED.INTRODUCTION.I confess whenI first learned that Mrs. Harper was about to write "astory" on some features of the Anglo-African race, growing out of whatwas once popularly known as the"peculiar institution," I had my doubtsabout the matter. Indeed it was far from being easy for me to think thatshe was as fortunate as she might have been inselecting a subject whichwould afford her the best opportunity for bringing out a work of meritand lasting worth to the race--such a work as some of herpersonalfriends have long desired to see from her graphic pen. However, afterhearing a good portion of the manuscript read, and a general statementwith regardto the object in view, I admit frankly that my partialindifference was soon swept away; at least I was willing to wait forfurther developments.Being very desirousthat one of the race, so long distinguished in thecause of freedom for her intellectual worth as Mrs. Harper has had thehonor of being, should not at this late datein life make a blunderwhich might detract from her own good name, I naturally proposed toawait developments before deciding too quickly in favor ofgivingencouragement to her contemplated effort.However, I was perfectly aware of the fact that she had much material inher possession for a most interestingbook on the subject of thecondition of the colored people in the South. I know of no other woman,white or colored, anywhere, who has come so intimately incontact withthe colored people in the South as Mrs. Harper. Since emancipation shehas labored in every Southern State in the Union, save two, ArkansasandTexas; in the colleges, schools, churches, and the cabins not excepted,she has found a vast field and open doors to teach and speak on thethemes ofeducation, temperance, and good home building, industry,morality, and the like, and never lacked for evidences of heartyappreciation and gratitude.Everywherehelp was needed, and her heart being deeply absorbed in thecause she willingly allowed her sympathies to impel her to perform mostheroic services.With her itwas no uncommon occurrence, in visiting cities or towns, tospeak at two, three, and four meetings a day; sometimes to promiscuousaudiences composed ofeverybody who would care to come.But the kind of meetings she took greatest interest in were meetingscalled exclusively for women. In this attitude she couldpour out hersympathies to them as she could not do before a mixed audience; andindeed she felt their needs were far more pressing than any other class.Andnow I am prepared to most fully indorse her story. I doubt whethershe could, if she had tried ever so much, have hit upon a subject sowell adapted to reach alarge number of her friends and the public withboth entertaining and instructive matter as successfully as she has donein this volume.The grand and ennoblingsentiments which have characterized all herutterances in laboring for the elevation of the oppressed will not befound missing in this book.The previous books fromher pen, which have been so very widelycirculated and admired, North and South--"Forest Leaves," "MiscellaneousPoems," "Moses, a Story of the Nile," "Poems,"and "Sketches of SouthernLife" (five in number)--these, I predict, will be by far eclipsed bythis last effort, which will, in all probability, be the crowning effortofher long and valuable services in the cause of humanity.While, as indicated, Mrs. Harper has done a large amount of work in theSouth, she has at the same timedone much active service in thetemperance cause in the North, as thousands of this class can testify.Before the war she was engaged as a speaker byanti-slaveryassociations; since then, by appointment of the Women's ChristianTemperance Union, she has held the office of "Superintendent of ColoredWork" foryears. She has also held the office of one of the Directors ofthe Women's Congress of the United States.Under the auspices of these influential, earnest, andintelligentassociations, she has been seen often on their platforms with theleading lady orators of the nation.Hence, being widely known not only amongst herown race but likewise bythe reformers, laboring for the salvation of the intemperate and othersequally unfortunate, there is little room to doubt that the book willbein great demand and will meet with warm congratulations from a goodlynumber outside of the author's social connections.Doubtless the thousands of coloredSunday-schools in the South, incasting about for an interesting, moral story-book, full of practicallessons, will not be content to be without "IOLA LEROY, ORSHADOWSUPLIFTED."WILLIAM STILL.CONTENTS.ChapterI. The Mystery of Market Speech and Prayer MeetingsII. Contraband of WarIII. Uncle Daniel's StoryIV.Arrival of the Union ArmyV. Release of Iola LeroyVI. Robert Johnson's Promotion and ReligionVII. Tom Anderson's DeathVIII. The Mystified DoctorIX. EugeneLeroy and Alfred LorraineX. Shadows in the HomeXI. The Plague and the LawXII. School-girl NotionsXIII. A Rejected SuitorXIV. Harry LeroyXV. Robert and hisCompanyXVI. After the BattleXVII. Flames in the School-RoomXVIII. Searching for Lost OnesXIX. Striking ContrastsXX. A RevelationXXI. A Home for MotherXXII.Further Lifting of the VeilXXIII. Delightful ReunionsXXIV. Northern ExperienceXXV. An Old FriendXXVI. Open QuestionsXXVII. Diverging PathsXXVIII. Dr. Latrobe'sMistakeXXIX. Visitors from the SouthXXX. Friends in CouncilXXXI. Dawning AffectionsXXXII. Wooing and WeddingXXXIII. ConclusionNoteCHAPTER I.MYSTERY OFMARKET SPEECH AND PRAYER-MEETING."Good mornin', Bob; how's butter dis mornin'?""Fresh; just as fresh, as fresh can be.""Oh, glory!" said the questioner,whom we shall call Thomas Anderson,although he was known among his acquaintances as Marster Anderson's Tom.His informant regarding the condition of themarket was Robert Johnson,who had been separated from his mother in his childhood and reared byhis mistress as a favorite slave. She had fondled him as a petanimal,and even taught him to read. Notwithstanding their relation as mistressand slave, they had strong personal likings for each other.Tom Anderson was theservant of a wealthy planter, who lived in the cityof C----, North Carolina. This planter was quite advanced in life, butin his earlier days he had spent much of histime in talking politics inhis State and National capitals in winter, and in visiting pleasureresorts and watering places in summer. His plantations were left tothecare of overseers who, in their turn, employed negro drivers to aid themin the work of cultivation and discipline. But as the infirmities of agewere pressingupon him he had withdrawn from active life, and given themanagement of his affairs into the hands of his sons. As Robert Johnsonand Thomas Anderson passedhomeward from the market, having boughtprovisions for their respective homes, they seemed to be verylight-hearted and careless, chatting and joking with eachother; butevery now and then, after looking furtively around, one would drop intothe ears of the other some news of the battle then raging between theNorth andSouth which, like two great millstones, were grinding slaveryto powder.As they passed along, they were met by another servant, who said inhurried tones, butwith a glad accent in his voice:--"Did you see de fish in de market dis mornin'? Oh, but dey war splendid,jis' as fresh, as fresh kin be.""That's the ticket," saidRobert, as a broad smile overspread his face."I'll see you later.""Good mornin', boys," said another servant on his way to market. "How'seggs dis mornin'?""Fustrate, fust rate," said Tom Anderson. "Bob's got it down fine.""I thought so; mighty long faces at de pos'-office dis mornin'; but I'dbetter move 'long," and with abright smile lighting up his face hepassed on with a quickened tread.There seemed to be an unusual interest manifested by these men in thestate of the producemarket, and a unanimous report of its goodcondition. Surely there was nothing in the primeness of the butter orthe freshness of the eggs to change carelesslooking faces into suchexpressions of gratification, or to light dull eyes with such gladness.What did it mean?During the dark days of the Rebellion, when thebondman was turning hiseyes to the American flag, and learning to hail it as an ensign ofdeliverance, some of the shrewder slaves, coming in contact withtheirmasters and overhearing their conversations, invented a phraseology toconvey in the most unsuspected manner news to each other from thebattle-field.Fragile women and helpless children were left on theplantations while their natural protectors were at the front, and yetthese bondmen refrained from violence.Freedom was coming in the wake ofthe Union army, and while numbers deserted to join their forces, othersremained at home, slept in their cabins by night andattended to theirwork by day; but under this apparently careless exterior there was anundercurrent of thought which escaped the cognizance of their masters.Inconveying tidings of the war, if they wished to announce a victory ofthe Union army, they said the butter was fresh, or that the fish andeggs were in goodcondition. If defeat befell them, then the butter andother produce were rancid or stale.Entering his home, Robert set his basket down. In one arm he held abundleof papers which he had obtained from the train to sell to theboarders, who were all anxious to hear from the seat of battle. Heslipped one copy out and, lookingcautiously around, said to Linda, thecook, in a low voice:--"Splendid news in the papers. Secesh routed. Yankees whipped 'em out oftheir boots. Papers full of it. Itell you the eggs and the butter'smighty fresh this morning.""Oh, sho, chile," said Linda, "I can't read de newspapers, but oleMissus' face is newspaper nuff forme. I looks at her ebery mornin' wenshe comes inter dis kitchen. Ef her face is long an' she walks kine o'droopy den I thinks things is gwine wrong for dem. But efshe comes outyere looking mighty pleased, an' larffin all ober her face, an' steppin'so frisky, den I knows de Secesh is gittin' de bes' ob de Yankees.Robby, honey,does you really b'lieve for good and righty dat demYankees is got horns?""Of course not.""Well, I yered so.""Well, you heard a mighty big whopper.""Anyhow,Bobby, things goes mighty contrary in dis house. Ole Miss is inde parlor prayin' for de Secesh to gain de day, and we's prayin' in decabins and kitchens for deYankees to get de bes' ob it. But wasn't MissNancy glad wen dem Yankees run'd away at Bull's Run. It was nuffin butBull's Run an' run away Yankees. How shedid larff and skip 'bout dehouse. An' den me thinks to myself you'd better not holler till you gitsout ob de woods. I specs 'fore dem Yankees gits froo you'll be


<title>Conan the Barbarian Script at IMSDb.</title><meta name="description" content="Conan the Barbarian script at the Internet Movie ScriptDatabase."><meta name="keywords" content="Conan the Barbarian script, Conan the Barbarian movie script, Conan the Barbarian film script"><metaname="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" /><meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true"><meta http-equiv="content-type"content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"><meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN"><meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document><metaname=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX, FOLLOW"><meta name=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts"><meta name=rating CONTENT=General><metaname=distribution content=Global><meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days"><link href="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css"><bodytopmargin="0" bottommargin="0" id="mainbody">

     <tdvalign="bottom" bgcolor="#FF0000">
The Internet Movie Script Database(IMSDb)

      <ahref="https://www.imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database">
The web's largest
movie script resource!

           Search IMSDb
<form method="post" action="/search.php">             <divalign="center">                <input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">                <input type="submit" value="Go!"name="submit">
	</form>

Alphabetical
        #         A        <ahref="/alphabetical/B">B        C        D        <ahref="/alphabetical/E">E        F        G        <ahref="/alphabetical/H">H
         I        J        <ahref="/alphabetical/K">K        L        M        <ahref="/alphabetical/N">N        O        P        <ahref="/alphabetical/Q">Q
         R        S        <ahref="/alphabetical/T">T        U        V        <ahref="/alphabetical/W">W        X        Y        <ahref="/alphabetical/Z">Z

Genre
 Action Adventure <ahref="/genre/Animation">Animation
 Comedy Crime <ahref="/genre/Drama">Drama
 Family Fantasy <ahref="/genre/Film-Noir">Film-Noir
 Horror Musical <ahref="/genre/Mystery">Mystery
 Romance Sci-Fi <ahref="/genre/Short">Short
 Thriller War <ahref="/genre/Western">Western

  Sponsor

<tablewidth="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
TV Transcripts
 <ahref="/TV/Futurama.html">Futurama
 Seinfeld
 SouthPark
 Stargate SG-1
 Lost
 The 4400

International
 <ahref="/language/French">French scripts

<tdclass=heading>Movie Software

Rip from DVD
 Rip Blu-Ray

Latest Comments
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10
Star Wars: TheForce Awakens10/10
Batman Begins9/10
Collateral10/10
Jackie Brown8/10

Movie Chat
 <form class="yellbox"action="https://www.yellbox.com/addmessage.php" method="post" target="ybframe" name="yellform">  <input type="hidden" name="sub_username"value="imsdb"> <input class="yellbox" name="sub_name" value="Name" size=21 maxlength=10 onFocus="if(this.value == 'Name')this.value = '';return;">
 <textarea class="yellbox" cols=15 rows=4 name="sub_message" wrap onFocus="if(this.value == 'Message')this.value = '';return;">Message</textarea>

 <button onClick="javascript:makeNewWindow(); return false;"><imgsrc="https://www.yellbox.com/images/smiley.gif" width=16 height=16></button> <button type="submit" value="Post" onClick="returnclearMessageBox();">Yell !</button>
</form>

      ALLSCRIPTS

<tdclass="scrtext">
                              CONAN THE BARBARIAN                                  Written by                   Thomas Dean Donnelly & JoshuaOppenheimer                                                                                Based on the writings of                               Robert E.Howard                                                                                October 7, 2009          OVERBLACK:                                   In the darkness, we hear the solitary sound of a HEARTBEAT,          resounding like adrum.                                    NARRATOR (V.O)           In between the years when the           oceans drank Atlantis and the rise           of the Sons ofAryas, there was an           age undreamed of, when shining           kingdoms lay spread across the           world like blue mantles under the           stars. Hithercame Conan, the           Cimmerian: a thief, a slayer, a           king born of battle.                                   Muffled sounds, as if underwater, echo: CLANGINGswords, the          guttural CRIES of combat.                                                  UNBORN BABY                                   Eyes closed, floating at peacewithin red glow of the womb.                                   Suddenly, a flash of steel, as a sword pierces the womb, its          tip not an inch from the baby'shead.                                   As the sword is ripped out, light streams in from outside, we          travel with it, into the DIN ofBATTLE.                                                            EXT. CIMMERIA - MUDDY FIELD - DAY                                   A blonde-haired, armored AESIR


<title>Soldier Script at IMSDb.</title><meta name="description" content="Soldier script at the Internet Movie Script Database."><metaname="keywords" content="Soldier script, Soldier movie script, Soldier film script"><meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"/><meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true"><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"><metahttp-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN"><meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document><meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX, FOLLOW"><metaname=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts"><meta name=rating CONTENT=General><meta name=distribution content=Global><metaname=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days"><link href="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css">

     <ahref="https://www.imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database">	    <tdbgcolor="#FF0000">
The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)

     <tdbackground="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2"><imgsrc="/images/logo_middle.gif" border="0">

 The web'slargest
movie script resource!

           Search IMSDb
<form method="post" action="/search.php">             <divalign="center">                <input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">                <input type="submit" value="Go!"name="submit">
	</form>

Alphabetical
        #         A        <ahref="/alphabetical/B">B        C        D        <ahref="/alphabetical/E">E        F        G        <ahref="/alphabetical/H">H
         I        J        <ahref="/alphabetical/K">K        L        M        <ahref="/alphabetical/N">N        O        P        <ahref="/alphabetical/Q">Q
         R        S        <ahref="/alphabetical/T">T        U        V        <ahref="/alphabetical/W">W        X        Y        <ahref="/alphabetical/Z">Z

Genre
 Action Adventure <ahref="/genre/Animation">Animation
 Comedy Crime <ahref="/genre/Drama">Drama
 Family Fantasy <ahref="/genre/Film-Noir">Film-Noir
 Horror Musical <ahref="/genre/Mystery">Mystery
 Romance Sci-Fi <ahref="/genre/Short">Short
 Thriller War <ahref="/genre/Western">Western

  Sponsor

<tablewidth="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
TV Transcripts
 <ahref="/TV/Futurama.html">Futurama
 Seinfeld
 SouthPark
 Stargate SG-1
 Lost
 The 4400

International
 <ahref="/language/French">French scripts

<tdclass=heading>Movie Software

Rip from DVD
 Rip Blu-Ray

Latest Comments
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10
Star Wars: TheForce Awakens10/10
Batman Begins9/10
Collateral10/10
Jackie Brown8/10

Movie Chat
 <form class="yellbox"action="https://www.yellbox.com/addmessage.php" method="post" target="ybframe" name="yellform">  <input type="hidden" name="sub_username"value="imsdb"> <input class="yellbox" name="sub_name" value="Name" size=21 maxlength=10 onFocus="if(this.value == 'Name')this.value = '';return;">
 <textarea class="yellbox" cols=15 rows=4 name="sub_message" wrap onFocus="if(this.value == 'Message')this.value = '';return;">Message</textarea>

 <button onClick="javascript:makeNewWindow(); return false;"><imgsrc="https://www.yellbox.com/images/smiley.gif" width=16 height=16></button> <button type="submit" value="Post" onClick="returnclearMessageBox();">Yell !</button>
</form>

      ALLSCRIPTS

<tdclass="scrtext">
                             SOLDIER                            Written by                        David WebbPeoples                                                  REVISED DRAFT                                                  October 2, 1997     INT.  HOSPITAL NURSERY -NIGHT     BABIES in bassinets, isolettes, incubators.  BABIES sleeping,     BABIES blinking, BABIES cooing, BABIES chirping, BABIES     squalling.     It's theSQUALLING BABIES, the ones with pinched faces and tiny     bunched fists, that seem to interest the TWO ANONYMOUS MEN in     Military Uniforms.  (Theiranonymity is assured by the angles     from which they are seen; they are hands, they are feet, they are     the backs of heads.)     A lone NURSE watches themgrimly as they make their "selections,"     marking the cribs of the most active, noisy BABIES with X's.                                                       CUTTO:     EXT.  VAN/HOSPITAL - NIGHT     ANGLE ON VAN DOORS slamming shut on a dozen squalling BABIES in     tiered red cribs.     ANGLE ONTHE VAN pulling away from the loading dock of the large     hospital as a date is SUPERED over thescene...                                1992                                                       CUT TO:     INT.  CAGE/BASEMENT ROOM - DAY ORNIGHT     Vicious teeth, savage snarls, tearing flesh as three fierce     fighting DOGS battle a single WOLVERINE in large steel cage.     The cage is in themiddle of a gloomy windowless room surrounded     by twenty TWO-YEAR-OLDS seated on folding chairs and dressed in     identical gray overalls.  As the


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of This Side of Paradise, by F. Scott FitzgeraldThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost norestrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.orgTitle: This Side of ParadiseAuthor: F. Scott FitzgeraldPosting Date: August 6, 2008 [EBook #805]Release Date: February, 1997[Last updated:June 22, 2011]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS SIDE OF PARADISE ***Produced by David Reed, and Ken ReederTHISSIDE OF PARADISEBy F. Scott Fitzgerald      ... Well this side of Paradise!...       There's little comfort in the wise.                              --RupertBrooke.       Experience is the name so many people       give to their mistakes.                              --Oscar Wilde.             To SIGOURNEYFAYCONTENTS     BOOK ONE: The Romantic Egotist      1.   AMORY, SON OF BEATRICE      2.   SPIRES AND GARGOYLES      3.   THE EGOTISTCONSIDERS      4.   NARCISSUS OFF DUTY     [INTERLUDE: MAY, 1917-FEBRUARY, 1919. ]     BOOK TWO: The Education of a Personage      1.   THEDEBUTANTE      2.   EXPERIMENTS IN CONVALESCENCE      3.   YOUNG IRONY      4.   THE SUPERCILIOUS SACRIFICE      5.   THE EGOTIST BECOMES APERSONAGEBOOK ONE--The Romantic EgotistCHAPTER 1. Amory, Son of BeatriceAmory Blaine inherited from his mother every trait, except thestrayinexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, anineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for Byron and a habit ofdrowsing over the EncyclopediaBritannica, grew wealthy at thirtythrough the death of two elder brothers, successful Chicago brokers, andin the first flush of feeling that the world was his, wentto Bar Harborand met Beatrice O'Hara. In consequence, Stephen Blaine handed down toposterity his height of just under six feet and his tendency to waveratcrucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in his son Amory.For many years he hovered in the background of his family's life, anunassertive figure witha face half-obliterated by lifeless, silky hair,continually occupied in "taking care" of his wife, continually harassedby the idea that he didn't and couldn't understandher.But Beatrice Blaine! There was a woman! Early pictures taken on herfather's estate at Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, or in Rome at the SacredHeart Convent--aneducational extravagance that in her youth was onlyfor the daughters of the exceptionally wealthy--showed the exquisitedelicacy of her features, theconsummate art and simplicity of herclothes. A brilliant education she had--her youth passed in renaissanceglory, she was versed in the latest gossip of the OlderRoman Families;known by name as a fabulously wealthy American girl to Cardinal Vitoriand Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must havehadsome culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to preferwhiskey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broadened in two sensesduring awinter in Vienna. All in all Beatrice O'Hara absorbed thesort of education that will be quite impossible ever again; a tutelagemeasured by the number of things andpeople one could be contemptuous ofand charming about; a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren ofall ideas, in the last of those days when the greatgardener clipped theinferior roses to produce one perfect bud.In her less important moments she returned to America, met StephenBlaine and married him--thisalmost entirely because she was a littlebit weary, a little bit sad. Her only child was carried througha tiresome season and brought into the world on a spring dayinninety-six.When Amory was five he was already a delightful companion for her. Hewas an auburn-haired boy, with great, handsome eyes which he wouldgrowup to in time, a facile imaginative mind and a taste for fancy dress.From his fourth to his tenth year he did the country with his motherin her father's privatecar, from Coronado, where his mother became sobored that she had a nervous breakdown in a fashionable hotel, down toMexico City, where she took a mild,almost epidemic consumption. Thistrouble pleased her, and later she made use of it as an intrinsic partof her atmosphere--especially after several astoundingbracers.So, while more or less fortunate little rich boys were defyinggovernesses on the beach at Newport, or being spanked or tutored or readto from "Do andDare," or "Frank on the Mississippi," Amory was bitingacquiescent bell-boys in the Waldorf, outgrowing a natural repugnanceto chamber music and symphonies,and deriving a highly specializededucation from his mother."Amory.""Yes, Beatrice." (Such a quaint name for his mother; she encouraged it.)"Dear, don't _think_of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspectedthat early rising in early life makes one nervous. Clothilde is havingyour breakfast brought up.""All right.""I amfeeling very old to-day, Amory," she would sigh, her face a rarecameo of pathos, her voice exquisitely modulated, her hands as facileas Bernhardt's. "My nervesare on edge--on edge. We must leave thisterrifying place to-morrow and go searching for sunshine."Amory's penetrating green eyes would look out throughtangled hair athis mother. Even at this age he had no illusions about her."Amory.""Oh, _yes_.""I want you to take a red-hot bath as hot as you can bear it, andjustrelax your nerves. You can read in the tub if you wish."She fed him sections of the "Fetes Galantes" before he was ten; ateleven he could talk glibly, if ratherreminiscently, of Brahms andMozart and Beethoven. One afternoon, when left alone in the hotel atHot Springs, he sampled his mother's apricot cordial, and asthe tastepleased him, he became quite tipsy. This was fun for a while, buthe essayed a cigarette in his exaltation, and succumbed to a vulgar,plebeian reaction.Though this incident horrified Beatrice, it alsosecretly amused her and became part of what in a later generation wouldhave been termed her "line.""This son ofmine," he heard her tell a room full of awestruck, admiringwomen one day, "is entirely sophisticated and quite charming--butdelicate--we're all delicate; _here_,you know." Her hand was radiantlyoutlined against her beautiful bosom; then sinking her voice to awhisper, she told them of the apricot cordial. They rejoiced,for shewas a brave raconteuse, but many were the keys turned in sideboard locksthat night against the possible defection of little Bobby or Barbara....Thesedomestic pilgrimages were invariably in state; two maids, theprivate car, or Mr. Blaine when available, and very often a physician.When Amory had thewhooping-cough four disgusted specialists glared ateach other hunched around his bed; when he took scarlet fever the numberof attendants, including physiciansand nurses, totalled fourteen.However, blood being thicker than broth, he was pulled through.The Blaines were attached to no city. They were the Blaines ofLakeGeneva; they had quite enough relatives to serve in place of friends,and an enviable standing from Pasadena to Cape Cod. But Beatrice grewmore and moreprone to like only new acquaintances, as there werecertain stories, such as the history of her constitution and its manyamendments, memories of her yearsabroad, that it was necessary forher to repeat at regular intervals. Like Freudian dreams, they must bethrown off, else they would sweep in and lay siege to hernerves. ButBeatrice was critical about American women, especially the floatingpopulation of ex-Westerners."They have accents, my dear," she told Amory, "notSouthern accentsor Boston accents, not an accent attached to any locality, just anaccent"--she became dreamy. "They pick up old, moth-eaten Londonaccentsthat are down on their luck and have to be used by some one. They talkas an English butler might after several years in a Chicago grand-operacompany."She became almost incoherent--"Suppose--time in every Westernwoman's life--she feels her husband is prosperous enough for her tohave--accent--they try toimpress _me_, my dear--"Though she thought of her body as a mass of frailties, she consideredher soul quite as ill, and therefore important in her life. Shehadonce been a Catholic, but discovering that priests were infinitely moreattentive when she was in process of losing or regaining faith in MotherChurch, shemaintained an enchantingly wavering attitude. Often shedeplored the bourgeois quality of the American Catholic clergy, and wasquite sure that had she lived inthe shadow of the great Continentalcathedrals her soul would still be a thin flame on the mighty altar ofRome. Still, next to doctors, priests were her favoritesport."Ah, Bishop Wiston," she would declare, "I do not want to talk ofmyself. I can imagine the stream of hysterical women fluttering at yourdoors, beseechingyou to be simpatico"--then after an interlude filledby the clergyman--"but my mood--is--oddly dissimilar."Only to bishops and above did she divulge her clericalromance. When shehad first returned to her country there had been a pagan, Swinburnianyoung man in Asheville, for whose passionate kisses andunsentimentalconversations she had taken a decided penchant--they had discussedthe matter pro and con with an intellectual romancing quite devoidofsappiness. Eventually she had decided to marry for background, and theyoung pagan from Asheville had gone through a spiritual crisis, joinedthe CatholicChurch, and was now--Monsignor Darcy."Indeed, Mrs. Blaine, he is still delightful company--quite thecardinal's right-hand man.""Amory will go to him one day, Iknow," breathed the beautiful lady,"and Monsignor Darcy will understand him as he understood me."Amory became thirteen, rather tall and slender, and morethan ever on tohis Celtic mother. He had tutored occasionally--the idea being that hewas to "keep up," at each place "taking up the work where he left off,"yet asno tutor ever found the place he left off, his mind was still invery good shape. What a few more years of this life would have made ofhim is problematical.However, four hours out from land, Italy bound,with Beatrice, his appendix burst, probably from too many meals in bed,and after a series of frantic telegrams toEurope and America, to theamazement of the passengers the great ship slowly wheeled around andreturned to New York to deposit Amory at the pier. You willadmit thatif it was not life it was magnificent.After the operation Beatrice had a nervous breakdown that bore asuspicious resemblance to delirium tremens, andAmory was left inMinneapolis, destined to spend the ensuing two years with his aunt anduncle. There the crude, vulgar air of Western civilization firstcatcheshim--in his underwear, so to speak.          *****A KISS FOR AMORYHis lip curled when he read it.  "I am going to have a bobbing party," it said, "onThursday,  December the seventeenth, at five o'clock, and I would like it  very much if you could come.                        Yourstruly,  R.S.V.P.                                     Myra St. Claire.He had been two months in Minneapolis, and his chief struggle had beenthe concealing from "the otherguys at school" how particularly superiorhe felt himself to be, yet this conviction was built upon shiftingsands. He had shown off one day in French class (he was


ï»¿Project Gutenberg's The Spanish Curate, by Francis Beaumont and John FletcherThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost norestrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.netTitle: The Spanish Curate       A ComedyAuthor: Francis Beaumont and John FletcherRelease Date: April 25, 2004 [EBook #12141]Language:English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPANISH CURATE ***Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Jayam Subramanian and PGDistributedProofreaders     THE SPANISH CURATE,     A COMEDY.       *       *       *       *       *     Persons Represented in the Play.     Don Henrique, _anuxorious Lord,     cruel to his Brother_.     Don Jamie, _younger Brother to_ Don     Henrique.     Bartolus, _a covetous Lawyer Husband     to_Amaranta.     Leandro, _a Gentleman who wantonly     loves the Lawyers Wife_.     Angelo, } _Three Gentlemen Friend[s]_     Milanes,} _to_Leandro.     Arsenio,}     Ascanio, _Son to_ Don Henrique.     Octavio, _supposed Husband to_ Jacintha.     Lopez, _the_ Spanish Curate.     Diego, _hisSexton_.     Assistant, _which we call a Judge_.     Algazeirs, _whom we call Serjeants_.     4Parishioners.     Apparitor.     Singers.     Servants.     _WOMEN_.     Violante, _supposed Wife to_ Don     Henrique.     Jacintha, _formerly contracted to_Don     Henrique.     Amaranta, _Wife to_ Bartolus.     A Woman Moor, _Servant to_ Amaranta.       *       *       *       *       *     _The Scene_Spain.       *       *       *       *       *     The principal Actors were,     Joseph Taylor.  } {William Eglestone.     John Lowin.     } {Thomas Polard.     NicholasToolie.} {Robert Benfeild.       *       *       *       *       *     Actus primus. Scena prima.       *       *       *       *       *     _Enter_ Angelo, Milanes, _and_Arsenio.     _Arsenio.     Leandro_ paid all.     _Mil_.     'Tis his usual custom,     And requisite he should: he has now put off     The Funeral black, (your rich heirwears with joy,     When he pretends to weep for his dead Father)     Your gathering Sires, so long heap muck together,     That their kind Sons, to rid them oftheir care,     Wish them in Heaven; or if they take a taste     Of Purgatory by the way, it matters not,     Provided they remove hence; what is befaln     To hisFather, in the other world, I ask not;     I am sure his prayer is heard: would I could use one     For mine, in the same method.     _Ars_.     Fie upon thee.     Thisis prophane.     _Mil_.     Good Doctor, do not school me     For a fault you are not free from: On my life     Were all Heirs in _Corduba_, put to theirOaths,     They would confess with me, 'tis a sound Tenet:     I am sure _Leandro_ do's.     _Ars_.     He is th'owner     Of a fair Estate.     _Mil_.     And fairly hedeserves it,     He's a Royal Fellow: yet observes a mean     In all his courses, careful too on whom     He showers his bounties: he that's liberal     To all alike,may do a good by chance,     But never out of Judgment: This invites     The prime men of the City to frequent     All places he resorts to, and are happy     In hissweet Converse.     _Ars.     Don Jamie_ the Brother     To the Grandee _Don Henrique_, appears much taken     With his behaviour.     _Mil_.     There issomething more in't:     He needs his Purse, and knows how to make use on't.     'Tis now in fashion for your _Don_, that's poor,     To vow all Leagues offriendship with a Merchant     That can supply his wants, and howsoe're     _Don Jamie's_ noble born, his elder Brother     _Don Henrique_ rich, and his Revenueslong since     Encreas'd by marrying with a wealthy Heir     Call'd, Madam _Vi[o]lante_, he yet holds     A hard hand o're _Jamie_, allowing him     A bare annuityonly.     _Ars_.     Yet 'tis said     He hath no child, and by the Laws of _Spain_     If he die without issue, _Don Jamie_     Inherits his Estate.     _Mil_.     Whythat's the reason     Of their so many jarrs: though the young Lord     Be sick of the elder Brother, and in reason     Should flatter, and observe him, he's of anature     Too bold and fierce, to stoop so, but bears up,     Presuming on his hopes.     _Ars_.     What's the young Lad     That all of 'em make so muchof?     _Mil._     'Tis a sweet one,     And the best condition'd youth, I ever saw yet,     So humble, and so affable, that he wins     The love of all that know him,and so modest,     That (in despight of poverty) he would starve     Rather than ask a courtesie: He's the Son     Of a poor cast-Captain, one _Octavio_;     AndShe, that once was call'd th'fair _Jacinta_,     Is happy in being his Mother: for his sake,     _Enter_ Jamie, Leandro, _and_ Ascanio.     (Though in their Fortunesfaln) they are esteem'd of,     And cherish'd by the best. O here they come.     I now may spare his Character, but observe him,     He'l justifie myreport.     _Jam_.     My good _Ascanio_,     Repair more often to me: above Women     Thou ever shalt be welcome.     _Asc_.     My Lord your favours     Mayquickly teach a raw untutour'd Youth     To be both rude and sawcy.     _Lean_.     You cannot be     Too frequent where you are so much desir'd:     And give meleave (dear friend) to be your Rival     In part of his affection; I will buy it     At any rate.     _Jam_.     Stood I but now possess'd     Of what my future hopepresages to me,     I then would make it clear thou hadst a Patron     That would not say but do: yet as I am,     Be mine, I'le not receive thee as aservant,     But as my Son, (and though I want my self)     No Page attending in the Court of _Spain_     Shall find a kinder master.     _Asc_.     I beseechyou     That my refusal of so great an offer     May make no ill construction, 'tis not pride     (That common vice is far from my condition)     That makes you adenyal to receive     A favour I should sue for: nor the fashion     Which the Country follows, in which to be a servant     In those that groan beneath the heavyweight     Of poverty, is held an argument     Of a base abject mind, I wish my years     Were fit to do you service in a nature     That might become a Gentleman(give me leave     To think my self one) My Father serv'd the King     As a Captain in the field; and though his fortune     Return'd him home a poor man, he wasrich     In Reputation, and wounds fairly taken.     Nor am I by his ill success deterr'd,     I rather feel a strong desire that sways me     To follow his profession,and if Heaven     Hath mark'd me out to be a man, how proud,     In the service of my Country, should I be,     To trail a Pike under your bravecommand!     There, I would follow you as a guide to honour,     Though all the horrours of the War made up     To stop my passage.     _Jam_.     Thou art ahopeful Boy,     And it was bravely spoken: For this answer,     I love thee more than ever.     _Mil_.     Pity such seeds     Of promising courage should not growand prosper.     _Ang_.     What ever his reputed Parents be,     He hath a mind that speaks him right and noble.     _Lean_.     You make him blush; it needs notsweet _Ascanio_,     We may hear praises when they are deserv'd,     Our modesty unwounded. By my life     I would add something to the building up     So faira mind, and if till you are fit     To bear Arms in the Field, you'l spend some years     In _Salamanca_, I'le supply your studies     With allconveniences.     _Asc_.     Your goodness (Signiors)     And charitable favours overwhelm me.     If I were of your blood, you could not be     More tender of me:what then can I pay     (A poor Boy and a stranger) but a heart     Bound to your service? with what willingness     I would receive (good Sir) your nobleoffer,     Heaven can bear witness for me: but alas,     Should I embrace the means to raise my fortunes,     I must destroy the lives of my poor Parents     (Towho[m] I ow my being) they in me     Place all their comforts, and (as if I were     The light of their dim eyes) are so indulgent     They cannot brook one shortdayes absence from me;     And (what will hardly win belief) though young,     I am their Steward and their Nurse: the bounties     Which others bestow on meserves to sustain 'em,     And to forsake them in their age, in me     Were more than Murther.     _Enter_ Henrique.     _Aug_.     This is a kind ofbegging     Would make a Broker charitable.     _Mil_.     Here, (sweet heart)     I wish it were more.     _Lean_.     When this is spent,     Seek for supply fromme.     _Jam_.     Thy piety     For ever be remembred: nay take all,     Though 'twere my exhibition to a Royal     For one whole year.     _Asc_.     High Heavensreward your goodness.     _Hen_.     So Sir, is this a slip of your own grafting,     You are so prodigal?     _Jam_.     A slip Sir?     _Hen_.     Yes,     A slip; or callit by the proper name,     Your Bastard.     _Jam_.     You are foul-mouth'd; do not provoke me,     I shall forget your Birth if you proceed,     And use you, (asyour manners do deserve) uncivilly.     _Hen_.     So brave! pray you give me hearing,     Who am I Sir?     _Jam_.     My elder Brother: One     That might havebeen born a fool, and so reputed,     But that you had the luck to creep into     The world a year before me.     _Lean_.     Be more temperate.     _Jam_.     Ineither can nor will, unless I learn it     By his example: let him use his harsh     Unsavoury reprehensions upon those     That are his Hinds, and not on me. TheLand     Our Father left to him alone rewards him,     For being twelve months elder, let that be     Forgotten, and let his Parasites remember     One quality ofworth or vertue in him     That may authorize him, to be a censurer     Of me, or my manners, and I will     Acknowledge him for a Tutor, till then,never.     _Hen_.     From whom have you your means Sir?     _Jam_.     From the will     Of my dead Father; I am sure I spend not     Nor give't upon yourpurse.     _Hen.     But will it hold out     Without my help?     _Jam_.     I am sure it shall, I'le sink else,     For sooner I will seek aid from a Whore,     Than acourtesie from you.     _Hen_.     'Tis well; you are proud of     Your new Exchequer, when you have cheated him     And worn him to the quick, I may befound     In the List of your acquaintance.     _Lean_     Pray you hold     And give me leave (my Lord) to say thus much     (And in mine own defence) I am noGull     To be wrought on by perswasion: nor no Coward     To be beaten out of my means, but know to whom     And why I give or lend, and will donothing     But what my reason warrants; you may be     As sparing as you please, I must be bold     To make use of my own, without yourlicence.     _Jam_.     'Pray thee let him alone, he is not worth thy anger.     All that he do's (_Leandro_) is for my good,     I think there's not a Gentleman of_Spain_,     That has a better Steward, than I have of him.     _Hen_.     Your Steward Sir?     _Jam_.     Yes, and a provident one:     Why, he knows I am givento large expence,     And therefore lays up for me: could you believe else     That he, that sixteen years hath worn the yoke     Of barren wedlock, without hope ofissue     (His Coffers full, his Lands and Vineyards fruitful)     Could be so sold to base and sordid thrift,     As almost to deny himself, the means     And


<title>Ed TV Script at IMSDb.</title><meta name="description" content="Ed TV script at the Internet Movie Script Database."><metaname="keywords" content="Ed TV script, Ed TV movie script, Ed TV film script"><meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"/><meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true"><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"><metahttp-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN"><meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document><meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX, FOLLOW"><metaname=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts"><meta name=rating CONTENT=General><meta name=distribution content=Global><metaname=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days"><link href="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css">

     <ahref="https://www.imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database">	    <tdbgcolor="#FF0000">
The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)

     <tdbackground="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2"><imgsrc="/images/logo_middle.gif" border="0">

 The web'slargest
movie script resource!

           Search IMSDb
<form method="post" action="/search.php">             <divalign="center">                <input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">                <input type="submit" value="Go!"name="submit">
	</form>

Alphabetical
        #         A        <ahref="/alphabetical/B">B        C        D        <ahref="/alphabetical/E">E        F        G        <ahref="/alphabetical/H">H
         I        J        <ahref="/alphabetical/K">K        L        M        <ahref="/alphabetical/N">N        O        P        <ahref="/alphabetical/Q">Q
         R        S        <ahref="/alphabetical/T">T        U        V        <ahref="/alphabetical/W">W        X        Y        <ahref="/alphabetical/Z">Z

Genre
 Action Adventure <ahref="/genre/Animation">Animation
 Comedy Crime <ahref="/genre/Drama">Drama
 Family Fantasy <ahref="/genre/Film-Noir">Film-Noir
 Horror Musical <ahref="/genre/Mystery">Mystery
 Romance Sci-Fi <ahref="/genre/Short">Short
 Thriller War <ahref="/genre/Western">Western

  Sponsor

<tablewidth="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
TV Transcripts
 <ahref="/TV/Futurama.html">Futurama
 Seinfeld
 SouthPark
 Stargate SG-1
 Lost
 The 4400

International
 <ahref="/language/French">French scripts

<tdclass=heading>Movie Software

Rip from DVD
 Rip Blu-Ray

Latest Comments
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10
Star Wars: TheForce Awakens10/10
Batman Begins9/10
Collateral10/10
Jackie Brown8/10

Movie Chat
 <form class="yellbox"action="https://www.yellbox.com/addmessage.php" method="post" target="ybframe" name="yellform">  <input type="hidden" name="sub_username"value="imsdb"> <input class="yellbox" name="sub_name" value="Name" size=21 maxlength=10 onFocus="if(this.value == 'Name')this.value = '';return;">
 <textarea class="yellbox" cols=15 rows=4 name="sub_message" wrap onFocus="if(this.value == 'Message')this.value = '';return;">Message</textarea>

 <button onClick="javascript:makeNewWindow(); return false;"><imgsrc="https://www.yellbox.com/images/smiley.gif" width=16 height=16></button> <button type="submit" value="Post" onClick="returnclearMessageBox();">Yell !</button>
</form>

      ALLSCRIPTS

<tdclass="scrtext">
<title>EdTV</title>
 ED TV by Lowell Ganz & Babaloo Mandel Sixth Rewrite July 16,1997  This is the first eRelease for the script of the movie "EdTV"  This script was scanned, proof read and formatted by Ueli Riegg  eMail: ueli.riegg@gmx.ch; URL: http://studiour.tsx.org  1 INT. HIGH SCHOOLGYMNASIUM - NIGHT The following is shot DOCUMENTARY-STYLE. A GIRLS VOLLEYBALL GAME has just ended. It was a big game. Some kind ofchampionship. ONE TEAM is CELEBRATING -- jumping up and down, squealing and hugging each other. We are focused on the bench of the TEAM TRAT LOST.They're very sad -- several are crying. One girl, in particular, (AMY) is really sobbing. She's sweat- stained, tired and just blubbering. Stuff's coming out of hereyes, her nose, her mouth and the camera is seeing it all. The COACH, a fortyish man looks at all the weeping girls -- Amy in particular. COACH Youquit! You gave up! He KICKS a CHAIR. Now Amy is really a mess. She's crying, coughing, shaking. COACH (CONT'D) (right in Amy's face) You quit!! TheCoach storms off. COACH (CONT'D) Qutters! ... Quitters! Amy is wailing and choking on her own tears. This IMAGE FREEZES. TERRY (V.O.)And that would be it. I don't think you need any narration at all. Just end it right there. REVEAL  2 INT. OFFICE - DAY BEGIN