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          ?                             FIELD OF DREAMS                                                        Written by                          PhilAlden Robinson                                                  March 9, 1988                                         FINAL DRAFTSCREENPLAY                                                  1                         FADE IN          MONTAGE OF PHOTOS          RAY(V.O.)          My fathers name was John Kinsella.          A faded, sepia shot of a dirty little kid on a farm.          RAY (V.O.)          Its an Irishname. He was born in          North Dakota, in 1896...          Young man in doughboy uniform.          RAY (V.O.)          ...and never saw a big city untilhe          came back from France in 1918.          Chicago. Tenement. Comiskey Park. Ballgames.          RAY (V.O.)          He settled in Chicago, wherehe quickly          learned to live and die with the White          Sox. Died a little when they lost the          1919 World Series...          Newspaper headlines. Photo ofShoeless Joe Jackson.          RAY (V.O.)          ...died a lot the following summer when          eight members of the team were accused          ofthrowing that Series.          Dad (a catcher) playing ball. At work. Weeding.          RAY (V.O.)          He played in the minors for a year or          two, butnothing ever came of it. Moved          to Brooklyn in 35, married Mom in 38,          and was already an old man working at          the Naval Yards when I wasborn in 1949.          Ray as an infant. With his father. In front of Ebbets Field          in miniature Dodger uniform, etc.          RAY (V.O.)          My


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                                      "GANG RELATED"                                        Written by                                         JimKouf                                      SHOOTING DRAFT                                           1997                               FADEIN:               NEON SIGN - THE PRINCE MOTEL - NIGHT               The N and the E are not working. So it reads the PR IC motel.                ROOMSTO RENT BY DAY, WEEK, MONTH. KITCHENETTES. The Prince                Motel has passed its prime. A few beat up cars are parked                outside rooms. WeCRANE DOWN to ROOM SEVEN. Curtains closed,                but someone is holding it open a crack, looking out. We PUSH                in CLOSE TO THE WINDOWand the EYE looking over the parking                lot. Then the curtain closes.               INT. ROOM SEVEN - PRINCE MOTEL - NIGHT               Peelingflowered wallpaper, ultra-cheap furniture. The man                moving away from the window is RODRIGUEZ. He is slender,                sports a thin mustache, hairslicked straight back. He's in                his late thirties. Slightly nervous.               Another man sits on the couch, looking at a magazine. He is                forty,solidly built. His name is FRANK DIVINCI.                                     DIVINCI                         Says here they got slips in Honolulu.                          325a month. Utilities included.                          That's not bad.               Rodriguez sits down.                                     DIVINCI                         But Igotta get at least a forty                          footer. It'll handle rough water                          better and I'll need the room if I'm                          gonna live on


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<title>DOG DAYAFTERNOON</title>
                                   "DOG DAY AFTERNOON"                                            by                                      FrankPierson                                       Final Draft                               FADE IN:               EXT. ELECTRIC SIGN               It FILLS THESCREEN (designed to exactly FILL THE FRAME size                of whatever ratio we're shooting in).  Itsays:                                           2:51               This message will be a little cryptic to the movie audience                on an essentially BLACKSCREEN.  HOLD for a beat, then it                changes: the lights flash this sign, which should explain it                toeveryone:                                           94°               And a slow distant ROLL OF THUNDER in the far distance; now                the SOUND of mediabegin to come up loud, under:               EXT. FLATBUSH AVENUE - DAY               LONG SHOT down the Avenue, 400 mm lens, heat wavesshimmering,                thousands of old people, and people with children in strollers                moving restlessly about in the heat on those endlessmiles                of benches.               The SHOT is ON SCREEN only for a beat or two, then gone...               SOUND TRACK COMES FROM A THOUSANDTRANSISTOR RADIOS, TV SETS,                AUTO RADIOS, BLENDED IN THE OPEN AIR...                                     RADIO ANNOUNCER 1


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<title>BLADE - by DavidS. Goyer</title>
                                BLADE                                -----                                  by                            David S. Goyer Darkness, BLOOD-CURDLING SCREAMS. Presentation credits roll as we FADE UP ON: INT. HOSPITAL,INNER-CITY TRAUMA WARD - NIGHT It's 1967, the Summer of Love and -- BOOM! Entry doors swing open as PARAMEDICS wheel in a FEMALE BLEEDER,VANESSA (20s, black, nine months pregnant). She's deathly pale, spewing founts of blood from a savagely slashed throat -- A SHOCK-TRAUMA TEAM swarmsover her, inserting a vacutainer into an artery to draw blood, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around her arm -- NURSE #1 (with stethoscope) She's notbreathing! SENIOR RESIDENT Intubate her! The RESPIRATORY THERAPIST feeds an endotracheal tube down the woman's ruined throat, attaches thatto an Amblu bag -- RESIDENT Blood-pressure's forty and falling -- The woman starts spasming violently. It takes three staff members just to hold herdown. SENIOR RESIDENT Jesus, her water's broken -- (calling for help) She's going into uterine contractions -- CAMERA PUSHES IN on the woman asshe bolts upright, SCREAMING to wake the dead. We PLUNGE INTO the darkness of her mouth and find ourselves -- INSIDE HER BLOODSTREAM Thesound of a HEART BEATING, pounding as we whip-snake through -- CORPUSCLES  floating in amber plasma. Erythrocytes, leukocytes, neutrophils and


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                                   SERENITY                                       Written by                                  JossWhedon                                                      April 18, 2004                    EXT. CLASSROOM - DAY          It's a group of twelve-year-olds,serious and well dressed.          They sit on their heels under a sparsely elegant tent, small          wooden desks with embedded screens in front of them.The          tent is on a lawn surrounded by lush foliage. People walk          about and vehicles glide quietly overhead. A utopianvista.          GIRL          Now that the war's over, our          soldiers get to come home, yes?          TEACHER          Some of them. Some willbe          stationed on the rim planets as          Peace Enforcers.          BOY          I don't understand. Why were the          Independents even fightingus?          Why wouldn't they look to be more          civilized?          TEACHER          That's a good question. Does          anybody want to open onthat?          GIRL          I hear they're cannibals.          ANOTHER BOY          That's only Reavers.          ANOTHERGIRL          Reavers aren't real.          ANOTHER BOY          Full well they are. They attack          settlers from space, they kill          them andwear their skins and rape          them for hours and hours --          TEACHER          (in Chinese)                    (CALMER)          It'strue that there are...          dangers on the outer planets. So          let's follow up on Borodin's          question. With all the social and          medical


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Voyage to Arcturus, by David LindsayThis 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: A Voyage to ArcturusAuthor: David LindsayPosting Date: September 17, 2008 [EBook #1329]Release Date: May, 1998[Last updated:June 28, 2012]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VOYAGE TO ARCTURUS ***Produced by An Anonymous VolunteerAVOYAGE TO ARCTURUS.By David LindsayContents:     1   The Seance     2   In the Street     3   Starkness     4   The Voice     5   The Night ofDeparture     6   Joiwind     7   Panawe     8   The Lusion Plain     9   Oceaxe     10  Tydomin     11  On Disscourn     12  Spadevil     13  The WombflashForest     14  Polecrab     15  Swaylone's Island     16  Leehallfae     17  Corpang     18  Haunte     19  Sullenbode     20  Barey     21  MuspelChapter 1. THESEANCEOn a march evening, at eight o'clock, Backhouse, the medium--afast-rising star in the psychic world--was ushered into the studyat Prolands, theHampstead residence of Montague Faull. The room wasilluminated only by the light of a blazing fire. The host, eying himwith indolent curiosity, got up, and theusual conventional greetingswere exchanged. Having indicated an easy chair before the fire to hisguest, the South American merchant sank back again into hisown. Theelectric light was switched on. Faull's prominent, clear-cut features,metallic-looking skin, and general air of bored impassiveness, did notseem greatly toimpress the medium, who was accustomed to regard menfrom a special angle. Backhouse, on the contrary, was a novelty to themerchant. As he tranquillystudied him through half closed lids and thesmoke of a cigar, he wondered how this little, thickset person with thepointed beard contrived to remain so fresh andsane in appearance, inview of the morbid nature of his occupation."Do you smoke?" drawled Faull, by way of starting the Conversation. "No?Then will you take adrink?""Not at present, I thank you."A pause."Everything is satisfactory? The materialisation will take place?""I see no reason to doubt it.""That's good, for Iwould not like my guests to be disappointed. I haveyour check written out in my pocket.""Afterward will do quite well.""Nine o'clock was the time specified, Ibelieve?""I fancy so."The conversation continued to flag. Faull sprawled in his chair, andremained apathetic."Would you care to hear what arrangements I havemade?""I am unaware that any are necessary, beyond chairs for your guests.""I mean the decoration of the seance room, the music, and so forth."Backhousestared at his host. "But this is not a theatricalperformance.""That's correct. Perhaps I ought to explain.... There will be ladiespresent, and ladies, you know, areaesthetically inclined.""In that case I have no objection. I only hope they will enjoy theperformance to the end."He spoke rather dryly."Well, that's all right, then,"said Faull. Flicking his cigar into thefire, he got up and helped himself to whisky."Will you come and see the room?""Thank you, no. I prefer to have nothing to dowith it till the timearrives.""Then let's go to see my sister, Mrs. Jameson, who is in the drawingroom. She sometimes does me the kindness to act as my hostess,as I amunmarried.""I will be delighted," said Backhouse coldly.They found the lady alone, sitting by the open pianoforte in a pensiveattitude. She had beenplaying Scriabin and was overcome. The mediumtook in her small, tight, patrician features and porcelain-like hands,and wondered how Faull came by such asister. She received him bravely,with just a shade of quiet emotion. He was used to such receptions atthe hands of the sex, and knew well how to respond tothem."What amazes me," she half whispered, after ten minutes of graceful,hollow conversation, "is, if you must know it, not so much themanifestationitself--though that will surely be wonderful--asyour assurance that it will take place. Tell me the grounds of yourconfidence.""I dream with open eyes," heanswered, looking around at the door, "andothers see my dreams. That is all.""But that's beautiful," responded Mrs. Jameson. She smiled ratherabsently, for thefirst guest had just entered.It was Kent-Smith, the ex-magistrate, celebrated for his shrewd judicialhumour, which, however, he had the good sense not toattempt to carryinto private life. Although well on the wrong side of seventy, his eyeswere still disconcertingly bright. With the selective skill of an oldman, heimmediately settled himself in the most comfortable of manycomfortable chairs."So we are to see wonders tonight?""Fresh material for your autobiography,"remarked Faull."Ah, you should not have mentioned my unfortunate book. An old publicservant is merely amusing himself in his retirement, Mr. Backhouse.Youhave no cause for alarm--I have studied in the school of discretion.""I am not alarmed. There can be no possible objection to your publishingwhatever youplease.""You are most kind," said the old man, with a cunning smile."Trent is not coming tonight," remarked Mrs. Jameson, throwing a curiouslittle glance at herbrother."I never thought he would. It's not in his line.""Mrs. Trent, you must understand," she went on, addressing theex-magistrate, "has placed us all under adebt of gratitude. She hasdecorated the old lounge hall upstairs most beautifully, and has securedthe services of the sweetest little orchestra.""But this is Romanmagnificence.""Backhouse thinks the spirits should be treated with more deference,"laughed Faull."Surely, Mr. Backhouse--a poetic environment...""Pardon me. Iam a simple man, and always prefer to reduce things toelemental simplicity. I raise no opposition, but I express my opinion.Nature is one thing, and art isanother.""And I am not sure that I don't agree with you," said the ex-magistrate."An occasion like this ought to be simple, to guard against thepossibility ofdeception--if you will forgive my bluntness, Mr.Backhouse.""We shall sit in full light," replied Backhouse, "and every opportunitywill be given to all to inspect theroom. I shall also ask you to submitme to a personal examination."A rather embarrassed silence followed. It was broken by the arrival oftwo more guests, whoentered together. These were Prior, the prosperousCity coffee importer, and Lang, the stockjobber, well known in his owncircle as an amateur prestidigitator.Backhouse was slightly acquaintedwith the latter. Prior, perfuming the room with the faint odour of wineand tobacco smoke, tried to introduce an atmosphere ofjoviality intothe proceedings. Finding that no one seconded his efforts, however, heshortly subsided and fell to examining the water colours on the walls.Lang,tall, thin, and growing bald, said little, but stared at Backhousea good deal.Coffee, liqueurs, and cigarettes were now brought in. Everyone partook,except Langand the medium. At the same moment, Professor Halbert wasannounced. He was the eminent psychologist, the author and lectureron crime, insanity, genius, andso forth, considered in their mentalaspects. His presence at such a gathering somewhat mystified the otherguests, but all felt as if the object of their meeting hadimmediatelyacquired additional solemnity. He was small, meagre-looking, and mildin manner, but was probably the most stubborn-brained of all thatmixedcompany. Completely ignoring the medium, he at once sat down besideKent-Smith, with whom he began to exchange remarks.At a few minutes past theappointed hour Mrs. Trent entered,unannounced. She was a woman of about twenty-eight. She had a white,demure, saintlike face, smooth black hair, and lips socrimson and fullthat they seemed to be bursting with blood. Her tall, graceful body wasmost expensively attired. Kisses were exchanged between her andMrs.Jameson. She bowed to the rest of the assembly, and stole a half glanceand a smile at Faull. The latter gave her a queer look, and Backhouse,who lostnothing, saw the concealed barbarian in the complacent gleamof his eye. She refused the refreshment that was offered her, and Faullproposed that, as everyonehad now arrived, they should adjourn to thelounge hall.Mrs. Trent held up a slender palm. "Did you, or did you not, give mecarte blanche, Montague?""Of course Idid," said Faull, laughing. "But what's the matter?""Perhaps I have been rather presumptuous. I don't know. I have inviteda couple of friends to join us. No, noone knows them.... The two mostextraordinary individuals you ever saw. And mediums, I am sure.""It sounds very mysterious. Who are these conspirators?""Atleast tell us their names, you provoking girl," put in Mrs. Jameson."One rejoices in the name of Maskull, and the other in that ofNightspore. That's nearly all that Iknow about them, so don't overwhelmme with, any more questions.""But where did you pick them up? You must have picked them upsomewhere.""But this is across-examination. Have I sinned again convention? Iswear I will tell you not another word about them. They will be heredirectly, and then I will deliver them toyour tender mercy.""I don't know them," said Faull, "and nobody else seems to, but, ofcourse, we will all be very pleased to have them.... Shall we wait,orwhat?""I said nine, and it's past that now. It's quite possible they may notturn up after all.... Anyway, don't wait.""I would prefer to start at once," saidBackhouse.The lounge, a lofty room, forty feet long by twenty wide, had beendivided for the occasion into two equal parts by a heavy brocade curtaindrawnacross the middle. The far end was thus concealed. The nearer halfhad been converted into an auditorium by a crescent of armchairs. Therewas no otherfurniture. A large fire was burning halfway along the wall,between the chairbacks and the door. The room was brilliantly lighted byelectric bracket lamps. Asumptuous carpet covered the floor.Having settled his guests in their seats, Faull stepped up to thecurtain and flung it aside. A replica, or nearly so, of the DruryLanepresentation of the temple scene in The Magic Flute was then exposed toview: the gloomy, massive architecture of the interior, the glowing skyabove it inthe background, and, silhouetted against the latter, thegigantic seated statue of the Pharaoh. A fantastically carved woodencouch lay before the pedestal of thestatue. Near the curtain, obliquelyplaced to the auditorium, was a plain oak armchair, for the use of themedium.Many of those present felt privately that thesetting was quiteinappropriate to the occasion and savoured rather unpleasantlyof ostentation. Backhouse in particular seemed put out. The usualcompliments,however, were showered on Mrs. Trent as the deviser ofso remarkable a theatre. Faull invited his friends to step forward andexamine the apartment as minutelyas they might desire. Prior andLang were the only ones to accept. The former wandered about among thepasteboard scenery, whistling to himself andoccasionally tapping a partof it with his knuckles. Lang, who was in his element, ignored the restof his party and commenced a patient, systematic search, on hisownaccount, for secret apparatus. Faull and Mrs. Trent stood in a cornerof the temple, talking together in low tones; while Mrs. Jameson,pretending to hold


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                               SISTER ACT                               Written by                              PaulRudnick                                                 July 19, 1991      Page 1.     SISTER ACT     FADE IN:     INT. ST. ANNE'S ACADEMY - AKRON,OHIO - CLASSROOM     We are in a parochial school classroom, in the late      Sixties.  The children all wear uniforms and sit at little      desks.  SISTERIMMACULATA stands at the front of the room;      she is a middle-aged nun, very severe.  The children are      all terrified of her.                               SISTERIMMACULATA               Who can name all the Apostles?  Yes?     ANGLE ON CHRISTINE CARTER     A thirteen-year-old girl sitting at a desk.  Sheraises      her hand.                               SISTER IMMACULATA               Christine?                               CHRISTINE               Sister, may I beexcused?                               SISTER IMMACULATA               Christine...                               CHRISTINE               It's an emergency.  Realbad.     Sister Immaculata nods, pursing her lips.  Christine      stands and heads for the door.                                                               CUTTO:     INT. GIRLS ROOM     Christine is now in the deserted St. Anne's girls room.      She is standing on tiptoes, looking in the mirror.  Shehas      taken her hair out of its neat barrettes; she is combing it      out.  She applies lipstick.     Christine reaches into her schoolbag; she pulls out a      stack ofglittery bracelets and slips them on.  She      unbuttons the top few buttons of her stiff white blouse.       She sprays herself with dime store


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Of Human Bondage, by W. Somerset MaughamThis 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: Of Human BondageAuthor: W. Somerset MaughamRelease Date: May 6, 2008 [EBook #351]  [Original release date: October,1995]  [Most recently updated: July 12, 2013]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OF HUMAN BONDAGE ***OF HUMANBONDAGEBYW. SOMERSET MAUGHAMIThe day broke gray and dull. The clouds hung heavily, and there was arawness in the air that suggested snow. A womanservant came into a roomin which a child was sleeping and drew the curtains. She glancedmechanically at the house opposite, a stucco house with a portico,andwent to the child's bed."Wake up, Philip," she said.She pulled down the bed-clothes, took him in her arms, and carried himdownstairs. He was only halfawake."Your mother wants you," she said.She opened the door of a room on the floor below and took the child overto a bed in which a woman was lying. It washis mother. She stretched outher arms, and the child nestled by her side. He did not ask why he hadbeen awakened. The woman kissed his eyes, and with thin,small hands feltthe warm body through his white flannel nightgown. She pressed him closerto herself."Are you sleepy, darling?" she said.Her voice was so weakthat it seemed to come already from a greatdistance. The child did not answer, but smiled comfortably. He was veryhappy in the large, warm bed, with those softarms about him. He tried tomake himself smaller still as he cuddled up against his mother, and hekissed her sleepily. In a moment he closed his eyes and wasfast asleep.The doctor came forwards and stood by the bed-side."Oh, don't take him away yet," she moaned.The doctor, without answering, looked at hergravely. Knowing she wouldnot be allowed to keep the child much longer, the woman kissed him again;and she passed her hand down his body till she came tohis feet; she heldthe right foot in her hand and felt the five small toes; and then slowlypassed her hand over the left one. She gave a sob."What's the matter?"said the doctor. "You're tired."She shook her head, unable to speak, and the tears rolled down her cheeks.The doctor bent down."Let me take him."She was tooweak to resist his wish, and she gave the child up. The doctorhanded him back to his nurse."You'd better put him back in his own bed.""Very well, sir." The littleboy, still sleeping, was taken away. Hismother sobbed now broken-heartedly."What will happen to him, poor child?"The monthly nurse tried to quiet her, andpresently, from exhaustion, thecrying ceased. The doctor walked to a table on the other side of the room,upon which, under a towel, lay the body of a still-bornchild. He liftedthe towel and looked. He was hidden from the bed by a screen, but thewoman guessed what he was doing."Was it a girl or a boy?" she whisperedto the nurse."Another boy."The woman did not answer. In a moment the child's nurse came back. Sheapproached the bed."Master Philip never woke up," shesaid. There was a pause. Then thedoctor felt his patient's pulse once more."I don't think there's anything I can do just now," he said. "I'll callagain afterbreakfast.""I'll show you out, sir," said the child's nurse.They walked downstairs in silence. In the hall the doctor stopped."You've sent for Mrs. Carey'sbrother-in-law, haven't you?""Yes, sir.""D'you know at what time he'll be here?""No, sir, I'm expecting a telegram.""What about the little boy? I should think he'dbe better out of the way.""Miss Watkin said she'd take him, sir.""Who's she?""She's his godmother, sir. D'you think Mrs. Carey will get over it, sir?"The doctorshook his head.IIIt was a week later. Philip was sitting on the floor in the drawing-roomat Miss Watkin's house in Onslow gardens. He was an only child and usedtoamusing himself. The room was filled with massive furniture, and on eachof the sofas were three big cushions. There was a cushion too in eacharm-chair. Allthese he had taken and, with the help of the gilt routchairs, light and easy to move, had made an elaborate cave in which hecould hide himself from the RedIndians who were lurking behind thecurtains. He put his ear to the floor and listened to the herd ofbuffaloes that raced across the prairie. Presently, hearing thedoor open,he held his breath so that he might not be discovered; but a violent handpulled away a chair and the cushions fell down."You naughty boy, Miss WatkinWILL be cross with you.""Hulloa, Emma!" he said.The nurse bent down and kissed him, then began to shake out the cushions,and put them back in theirplaces."Am I to come home?" he asked."Yes, I've come to fetch you.""You've got a new dress on."It was in eighteen-eighty-five, and she wore a bustle. Her gownwas ofblack velvet, with tight sleeves and sloping shoulders, and the skirt hadthree large flounces. She wore a black bonnet with velvet strings. Shehesitated. Thequestion she had expected did not come, and so she couldnot give the answer she had prepared."Aren't you going to ask how your mamma is?" she said atlength."Oh, I forgot. How is mamma?"Now she was ready."Your mamma is quite well and happy.""Oh, I am glad.""Your mamma's gone away. You won't ever seeher any more." Philip did notknow what she meant."Why not?""Your mamma's in heaven."She began to cry, and Philip, though he did not quite understand,criedtoo. Emma was a tall, big-boned woman, with fair hair and large features.She came from Devonshire and, notwithstanding her many years of serviceinLondon, had never lost the breadth of her accent. Her tears increased heremotion, and she pressed the little boy to her heart. She felt vaguely thepity of thatchild deprived of the only love in the world that is quiteunselfish. It seemed dreadful that he must be handed over to strangers.But in a little while she pulledherself together."Your Uncle William is waiting in to see you," she said. "Go and saygood-bye to Miss Watkin, and we'll go home.""I don't want to say good-bye,"he answered, instinctively anxious to hidehis tears."Very well, run upstairs and get your hat."He fetched it, and when he came down Emma was waiting for him inthe hall.He heard the sound of voices in the study behind the dining-room. Hepaused. He knew that Miss Watkin and her sister were talking to friends,and itseemed to him--he was nine years old--that if he went in they wouldbe sorry for him."I think I'll go and say good-bye to Miss Watkin.""I think you'd better," saidEmma."Go in and tell them I'm coming," he said.He wished to make the most of his opportunity. Emma knocked at the doorand walked in. He heard herspeak."Master Philip wants to say good-bye to you, miss."There was a sudden hush of the conversation, and Philip limped in.Henrietta Watkin was a stout woman,with a red face and dyed hair. Inthose days to dye the hair excited comment, and Philip had heard muchgossip at home when his godmother's changed colour.She lived with anelder sister, who had resigned herself contentedly to old age. Two ladies,whom Philip did not know, were calling, and they looked at himcuriously."My poor child," said Miss Watkin, opening her arms.She began to cry. Philip understood now why she had not been in toluncheon and why she wore ablack dress. She could not speak."I've got to go home," said Philip, at last.He disengaged himself from Miss Watkin's arms, and she kissed him again.Then hewent to her sister and bade her good-bye too. One of the strangeladies asked if she might kiss him, and he gravely gave her permission.Though crying, he keenlyenjoyed the sensation he was causing; he wouldhave been glad to stay a little longer to be made much of, but felt theyexpected him to go, so he said that Emmawas waiting for him. He went outof the room. Emma had gone downstairs to speak with a friend in thebasement, and he waited for her on the landing. He heardHenriettaWatkin's voice."His mother was my greatest friend. I can't bear to think that she'sdead.""You oughtn't to have gone to the funeral, Henrietta," said hersister. "Iknew it would upset you."Then one of the strangers spoke."Poor little boy, it's dreadful to think of him quite alone in the world.I see he limps.""Yes, he'sgot a club-foot. It was such a grief to his mother."Then Emma came back. They called a hansom, and she told the driver whereto go.IIIWhen they reached thehouse Mrs. Carey had died in--it was in a dreary,respectable street between Notting Hill Gate and High Street,Kensington--Emma led Philip into thedrawing-room. His uncle was writingletters of thanks for the wreaths which had been sent. One of them, whichhad arrived too late for the funeral, lay in itscardboard box on thehall-table."Here's Master Philip," said Emma.Mr. Carey stood up slowly and shook hands with the little boy. Then onsecond thoughts he bentdown and kissed his forehead. He was a man ofsomewhat less than average height, inclined to corpulence, with his hair,worn long, arranged over the scalp so asto conceal his baldness. He wasclean-shaven. His features were regular, and it was possible to imaginethat in his youth he had been good-looking. On hiswatch-chain he wore agold cross."You're going to live with me now, Philip," said Mr. Carey. "Shall youlike that?"Two years before Philip had been sent down tostay at the vicarage afteran attack of chicken-pox; but there remained with him a recollection of anattic and a large garden rather than of his uncle andaunt."Yes.""You must look upon me and your Aunt Louisa as your father and mother."The child's mouth trembled a little, he reddened, but did not answer."Yourdear mother left you in my charge."Mr. Carey had no great ease in expressing himself. When the news came thathis sister-in-law was dying, he set off at once forLondon, but on the waythought of nothing but the disturbance in his life that would be caused ifher death forced him to undertake the care of her son. He waswell overfifty, and his wife, to whom he had been married for thirty years, waschildless; he did not look forward with any pleasure to the presence of asmall boywho might be noisy and rough. He had never much liked hissister-in-law."I'm going to take you down to Blackstable tomorrow," he said."With Emma?"The childput his hand in hers, and she pressed it."I'm afraid Emma must go away," said Mr. Carey."But I want Emma to come with me."Philip began to cry, and the nursecould not help crying too. Mr. Careylooked at them helplessly."I think you'd better leave me alone with Master Philip for a moment.""Very good, sir."Though Philipclung to her, she released herself gently. Mr. Carey tookthe boy on his knee and put his arm round him."You mustn't cry," he said. "You're too old to have a nursenow. We mustsee about sending you to school.""I want Emma to come with me," the child repeated."It costs too much money, Philip. Your father didn't leavevery much, andI don't know what's become of it. You must look at every penny you spend."Mr. Carey had called the day before on the family solicitor.Philip'sfather was a surgeon in good practice, and his hospital appointmentssuggested an established position; so that it was a surprise on his suddendeath from


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   <title>"Pitch Black", shooting draft, revised by David Twohy</title><bodybgcolor="#FFFFFF">
                           PITCH BLACK                           Screenplay                               by                           DavidTwohy               Based on material by Ken and Jim Wheat                                             Revised FirstDraft                                             3/3/98     NOTE: THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT CONTAINED SCENE NUMBERS     AND SOME"OMITTED" SLUGS. THEY HAVE BEEN REMOVED FOR THIS     SOFT COPY.     NOTE ALSO: THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT WAS IN THENON-     PREFORMAT FONT "TIMES NEW ROMAN". THIS HAS BEEN CHANGED     TO PREFORMATTED TEXT FOR THIS SOFT COPY.Thoughmentioned often in the script, the creatures in PITCH BLACK are seldom seen at length; rather, they are glimpsed, they are heard, they are felt. They are, really,the embodiment of your nocturnal fears: A howling coyote that jars you awake; the painting on the wall that comes to lifewhen stared at too long...the sway ofyour bed just before the earthquake hits. Chimera of the night. The point is made so the reader appreciatesthat the focus of the finished film will not be on whatthe creatures do, but on what the creatures do to reveal the inner nature of the characters. For PITCH BLACK is, at its heart, a story of humanity and courage --and lack of the same.                                                       David Twohy     CUT IN:     INT. MAIN CABIN     A CRYO-LOCKER BLOWS OPEN,


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Of The Nature of Things, by [Titus Lucretius Carus] LucretiusThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost andwithalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook oronline at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: Of The Nature of ThingsAuthor: [Titus Lucretius Carus] LucretiusTranslator: William Ellery LeonardPosting Date: July 31, 2008[EBook #785]Release Date: January, 1997Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OF THE NATURE OF THINGS ***Produced byLevent KurnazOF THE NATURE OF THINGSBy Titus Lucretius CarusA Metrical TranslationBy William Ellery LeonardBOOK IPROEM     Mother of Rome, delight ofGods and men,     Dear Venus that beneath the gliding stars     Makest to teem the many-voyaged main     And fruitful lands--for all of living things     Throughthee alone are evermore conceived,     Through thee are risen to visit the great sun--     Before thee, Goddess, and thy coming on,     Flee stormy wind andmassy cloud away,     For thee the daedal Earth bears scented flowers,     For thee waters of the unvexed deep     Smile, and the hollows of the serenesky     Glow with diffused radiance for thee!     For soon as comes the springtime face of day,     And procreant gales blow from the West unbarred,     First fowlsof air, smit to the heart by thee,     Foretoken thy approach, O thou Divine,     And leap the wild herds round the happy fields     Or swim the bounding torrents.Thus amain,     Seized with the spell, all creatures follow thee     Whithersoever thou walkest forth to lead,     And thence through seas and mountains and swiftstreams,     Through leafy homes of birds and greening plains,     Kindling the lure of love in every breast,     Thou bringest the eternal generations forth,     Kindafter kind. And since 'tis thou alone     Guidest the Cosmos, and without thee naught     Is risen to reach the shining shores of light,     Nor aught of joyful or oflovely born,     Thee do I crave co-partner in that verse     Which I presume on Nature to compose     For Memmius mine, whom thou hast willed to be     Peerlessin every grace at every hour--     Wherefore indeed, Divine one, give my words     Immortal charm. Lull to a timely rest     O'er sea and land the savage works ofwar,     For thou alone hast power with public peace     To aid mortality; since he who rules     The savage works of battle, puissant Mars,     How often to thybosom flings his strength     O'ermastered by the eternal wound of love--     And there, with eyes and full throat backward thrown,     Gazing, my Goddess,open-mouthed at thee,     Pastures on love his greedy sight, his breath     Hanging upon thy lips. Him thus reclined     Fill with thy holy body, round,above!     Pour from those lips soft syllables to win     Peace for the Romans, glorious Lady, peace!     For in a season troublous to the state     Neither may Iattend this task of mine     With thought untroubled, nor mid such events     The illustrious scion of the Memmian house     Neglect the civiccause.                            Whilst human kind     Throughout the lands lay miserably crushed     Before all eyes beneath Religion--who     Would show her headalong the region skies,     Glowering on mortals with her hideous face--     A Greek it was who first opposing dared     Raise mortal eyes that terror towithstand,     Whom nor the fame of Gods nor lightning's stroke     Nor threatening thunder of the ominous sky     Abashed; but rather chafed to angry zest     Hisdauntless heart to be the first to rend     The crossbars at the gates of Nature old.     And thus his will and hardy wisdom won;     And forward thus he fared afar,beyond     The flaming ramparts of the world, until     He wandered the unmeasurable All.     Whence he to us, a conqueror, reports     What things can rise tobeing, what cannot,     And by what law to each its scope prescribed,     Its boundary stone that clings so deep in Time.     Wherefore Religion now is underfoot,     And us his victory now exalts to heaven.     I know how hard it is in Latian verse     To tell the dark discoveries of the Greeks,     Chiefly because ourpauper-speech must find     Strange terms to fit the strangeness of the thing;     Yet worth of thine and the expected joy     Of thy sweet friendship do persuademe on     To bear all toil and wake the clear nights through,     Seeking with what of words and what of song     I may at last most gloriously uncloud     For theethe light beyond, wherewith to view     The core of being at the centre hid.     And for the rest, summon to judgments true,     Unbusied ears and singleness ofmind     Withdrawn from cares; lest these my gifts, arranged     For thee with eager service, thou disdain     Before thou comprehendest: since for thee     I provethe supreme law of Gods and sky,     And the primordial germs of things unfold,     Whence Nature all creates, and multiplies     And fosters all, and whither sheresolves     Each in the end when each is overthrown.     This ultimate stock we have devised to name     Procreant atoms, matter, seeds of things,     Or primalbodies, as primal to the world.     I fear perhaps thou deemest that we fare     An impious road to realms of thought profane;     But 'tis that same religion oftenerfar     Hath bred the foul impieties of men:     As once at Aulis, the elected chiefs,     Foremost of heroes, Danaan counsellors,     Defiled Diana's altar, virginqueen,     With Agamemnon's daughter, foully slain.     She felt the chaplet round her maiden locks     And fillets, fluttering down on either cheek,     And at thealtar marked her grieving sire,     The priests beside him who concealed the knife,     And all the folk in tears at sight of her.     With a dumb terror and a sinkingknee     She dropped; nor might avail her now that first     'Twas she who gave the king a father's name.     They raised her up, they bore the trembling girl     Onto the altar--hither led not now     With solemn rites and hymeneal choir,     But sinless woman, sinfully foredone,     A parent felled her on her bridalday,     Making his child a sacrificial beast     To give the ships auspicious winds for Troy:     Such are the crimes to which Religion leads.     And there shall comethe time when even thou,     Forced by the soothsayer's terror-tales, shalt seek     To break from us. Ah, many a dream even now     Can they concoct to rout thyplans of life,     And trouble all thy fortunes with base fears.     I own with reason: for, if men but knew     Some fixed end to ills, they would be strong     By somedevice unconquered to withstand     Religions and the menacings of seers.     But now nor skill nor instrument is theirs,     Since men must dread eternal pains indeath.     For what the soul may be they do not know,     Whether 'tis born, or enter in at birth,     And whether, snatched by death, it die with us,     Or visit theshadows and the vasty caves     Of Orcus, or by some divine decree     Enter the brute herds, as our Ennius sang,     Who first from lovely Helicon broughtdown     A laurel wreath of bright perennial leaves,     Renowned forever among the Italian clans.     Yet Ennius too in everlasting verse     Proclaims those vaultsof Acheron to be,     Though thence, he said, nor souls nor bodies fare,     But only phantom figures, strangely wan,     And tells how once from out those regionsrose     Old Homer's ghost to him and shed salt tears     And with his words unfolded Nature's source.     Then be it ours with steady mind to clasp     The purportof the skies--the law behind     The wandering courses of the sun and moon;     To scan the powers that speed all life below;     But most to see with reasonableeyes     Of what the mind, of what the soul is made,     And what it is so terrible that breaks     On us asleep, or waking in disease,     Until we seem to mark andhear at hand     Dead men whose bones earth bosomed long ago.SUBSTANCE IS ETERNAL     This terror, then, this darkness of the mind,     Not sunrise with itsflaring spokes of light,     Nor glittering arrows of morning can disperse,     But only Nature's aspect and her law,     Which, teaching us, hath thisexordium:     Nothing from nothing ever yet was born.     Fear holds dominion over mortality     Only because, seeing in land and sky     So much the causewhereof no wise they know,     Men think Divinities are working there.     Meantime, when once we know from nothing still     Nothing can be create, we shalldivine     More clearly what we seek: those elements     From which alone all things created are,     And how accomplished by no tool of Gods.     Suppose allsprang from all things: any kind     Might take its origin from any thing,     No fixed seed required. Men from the sea     Might rise, and from the land the scalybreed,     And, fowl full fledged come bursting from the sky;     The horned cattle, the herds and all the wild     Would haunt with varying offspring tilth andwaste;     Nor would the same fruits keep their olden trees,     But each might grow from any stock or limb     By chance and change. Indeed, and were therenot     For each its procreant atoms, could things have     Each its unalterable mother old?     But, since produced from fixed seeds are all,     Each birth goes forthupon the shores of light     From its own stuff, from its own primal bodies.     And all from all cannot become, because     In each resides a secret power itsown.     Again, why see we lavished o'er the lands     At spring the rose, at summer heat the corn,     The vines that mellow when the autumn lures,     If notbecause the fixed seeds of things     At their own season must together stream,     And new creations only be revealed     When the due times arrive andpregnant earth     Safely may give unto the shores of light     Her tender progenies? But if from naught     Were their becoming, they would springabroad     Suddenly, unforeseen, in alien months,     With no primordial germs, to be preserved     From procreant unions at an adverse hour.     Nor on themingling of the living seeds     Would space be needed for the growth of things     Were life an increment of nothing: then     The tiny babe forthwith would walk aman,     And from the turf would leap a branching tree--     Wonders unheard of; for, by Nature, each     Slowly increases from its lawful seed,     And throughthat increase shall conserve its kind.     Whence take the proof that things enlarge and feed     From out their proper matter. Thus it comes     That earth, withouther seasons of fixed rains,     Could bear no produce such as makes us glad,     And whatsoever lives, if shut from food,     Prolongs its kind and guards its life nomore.     Thus easier 'tis to hold that many things     Have primal bodies in common (as we see     The single letters common to many words)     Than aughtexists without its origins.     Moreover, why should Nature not prepare     Men of a bulk to ford the seas afoot,     Or rend the mighty mountains with theirhands,     Or conquer Time with length of days, if not     Because for all begotten things abides     The changeless stuff, and what from that may spring     Is fixedforevermore? Lastly we see     How far the tilled surpass the fields untilled     And to the labour of our hands return     Their more abounding crops; there areindeed     Within the earth primordial germs of things,     Which, as the ploughshare turns the fruitful clods     And kneads the mould, we quicken into


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Art of War, by Sun TzuThis 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: The Art of WarAuthor: Sun TzuTranslator: Lionel GilesRelease Date: May 1994  [eBook #132][Last updated: January 14,2012]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ART OF WAR ***Note: Please seeProject Gutenberg's eBook #17405 for a version ofthis eBook without the Giles commentary (that is, with only theSun Tzu text).                    SUN TZU ON THEART OF WAR            THE OLDEST MILITARY TREATISE IN THE WORLD          Translated from the Chinese with Introduction                       and CriticalNotes                               BY                       LIONEL GILES, M.A. Assistant in the Department of Oriental Printed Books and MSS.                      in the BritishMuseum                     First Published in 1910-----------------------------------------------------------------                          To my brother                  CaptainValentine Giles, R.G.                        in the hope that                      a work 2400 years old           may yet contain lessons worth consideration                     bythe soldier of today                        this translation                  is affectionately dedicated.-----------------------------------------------------------------Preface tothe Project Gutenberg Etext--------------------------------------     When Lionel Giles began his translation of Sun Tzu's ART OFWAR, the work was virtuallyunknown in Europe.  Its introductionto Europe began in 1782 when a French Jesuit Father living inChina, Joseph Amiot, acquired a copy of it, and translated itintoFrench.  It was not a good translation because, according toDr. Giles, "[I]t contains a great deal that Sun Tzu did notwrite, and very little indeed of what hedid."     The first translation into English was published in 1905 inTokyo by Capt. E. F. Calthrop, R.F.A.  However, this translationis, in the words of Dr. Giles,"excessively bad."  He goesfurther in this criticism:  "It is not merely a question ofdownright blunders, from which none can hope to be wholly exempt.Omissionswere frequent; hard passages were willfully distortedor slurred over.  Such offenses are less pardonable.  They wouldnot be tolerated in any edition of a Latin orGreek classic, anda similar standard of honesty ought to be insisted upon intranslations from Chinese."  In 1908 a new edition of Capt.Calthrop's translation waspublished in London.  It was animprovement on the first -- omissions filled up and numerousmistakes corrected -- but new errors were created in the process.Dr.Giles, in justifying his translation, wrote:  "It was notundertaken out of any inflated estimate of my own powers; but Icould not help feeling that Sun Tzu deserveda better fate thanhad befallen him, and I knew that, at any rate, I could hardlyfail to improve on the work of my predecessors."     Clearly, Dr. Giles' workestablished much of the groundworkfor the work of later translators who published their owneditions.  Of the later editions of the ART OF WAR Ihaveexamined;  two feature Giles' edited translation and notes,  theother two present the same basic information from the ancientChinese commentators foundin the Giles edition.  Of these four,Giles' 1910 edition is the most scholarly and presents the readeran incredible amount of information concerning Sun Tzu'stext,much more than any other translation.     The Giles' edition of the ART OF WAR, as stated above, was ascholarly work.  Dr. Giles was a leading sinologue atthe timeand an assistant in the Department of Oriental Printed Books andManuscripts in the British Museum.  Apparently he wanted toproduce a definitive edition,superior to anything else thatexisted and perhaps something that would become a standardtranslation.  It was the best translation available for 50 years.Butapparently there was not much interest in Sun Tzu in English-speaking countries since it took the start of the SecondWorld War to renew interest in hiswork.  Several peoplepublished unsatisfactory English translations of Sun Tzu.  In1944,  Dr. Giles' translation was edited and published in theUnited States in aseries of military science books.  But itwasn't until 1963 that a good English translation (by Samuel B.Griffith and still in print) was published that was an equaltoGiles' translation.  While this translation is more lucid thanDr. Giles' translation, it lacks his copious notes that make hisso interesting.     Dr. Giles produced awork primarily intended for scholars ofthe Chinese civilization and language.  It contains the Chinesetext of Sun Tzu, the English translation, and voluminousnotesalong with numerous footnotes.  Unfortunately, some of his notesand footnotes contain Chinese characters; some are completelyChinese.  Thus,  aconversion to a Latin alphabet etext wasdifficult.  I did the conversion in complete ignorance of Chinese(except for what I learned while doing theconversion).  Thus, Ifaced the difficult task of paraphrasing it while retaining asmuch of the important text as I could.  Every paraphraserepresents a loss; thus Idid what I could to retain as much ofthe text as possible.  Because the 1910 text contains a Chineseconcordance, I was able to transliterate proper names, books,andthe like at the risk of making the text more obscure.  However,the text, on the whole, is quite satisfactory for the casualreader, a transformation madepossible by conversion to an etext.However, I come away from this task with the feeling of lossbecause I know that someone with a background in Chinese can doabetter job than I did; any such attempt would be welcomed.                              Bob Sutton                              al876@cleveland.freenet.edu                              bobs@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------------------------------------------------------------INTRODUCTIONSun Wu and his Book-------------------     Ssu-ma Ch`ien givesthe following biography of Sun Tzu:  [1]--       Sun Tzu Wu was a native of the Ch`i State.  His ART OF  WAR brought him to the notice of Ho Lu, [2] King ofWu.  Ho  Lu said to him:  "I have carefully perused your 13 chapters.  May I submit your theory of managing soldiers to a slight  test?"       Sun Tzu replied:  "Youmay."       Ho Lu asked:  "May the test be applied to women?"       The answer was again in the affirmative, so arrangements  were made to bring 180 ladies outof the Palace.  Sun Tzu  divided them into two companies, and placed one of the King's  favorite concubines at the head of each.  He then bade them  all takespears in their hands, and addressed them thus:   "I  presume you know the difference between front and back, right  hand and left hand?"       The girlsreplied:  Yes.       Sun Tzu went on:  "When I say "Eyes front,"  you must  look straight ahead.  When I say "Left turn," you must face  towards your lefthand.  When I say "Right turn,"  you must  face towards your right hand.  When I say "About turn,"  you  must face right round towards your back."       Againthe girls assented.  The words of command having  been thus explained, he set up the halberds and battle-axes  in order to begin the drill.  Then, to the sound ofdrums, he  gave the order "Right turn."  But the girls only burst out  laughing.  Sun Tzu said:  "If words of command are not clear  and distinct, if orders are notthoroughly understood, then  the general is to blame."       So he started drilling them again, and this time gave  the order "Left turn," whereupon the girls oncemore burst  into fits of laughter.  Sun Tzu:  "If words of command are  not clear and distinct, if orders are not thoroughly  understood, the general is toblame.  But if his orders ARE  clear, and the soldiers nevertheless disobey, then it is the  fault of their officers."       So saying, he ordered the leaders of the twocompanies  to be beheaded.  Now the king of Wu was watching the scene  from the top of a raised pavilion; and when he saw that his  favorite concubines wereabout to be executed, he was greatly  alarmed and hurriedly sent down the following message:   "We  are now quite satisfied as to our general's ability tohandle  troops.  If We are bereft of these two concubines, our meat  and drink will lose their savor.  It is our wish that they  shall not be beheaded."       Sun Tzureplied:  "Having once received His Majesty's  commission to be the general of his forces, there are certain  commands of His Majesty which, acting in thatcapacity, I am  unable to accept."       Accordingly,  he had the two leaders beheaded,  and  straightway installed the pair next in order as leaders in  theirplace.  When this had been done, the drum was sounded  for the drill once more; and the girls went through all the  evolutions, turning to the right or to the left,marching  ahead or wheeling back, kneeling or standing, with perfect  accuracy and precision, not venturing to utter a sound.  Then  Sun Tzu sent a messenger tothe King saying:  "Your soldiers,  Sire, are now properly drilled and disciplined, and ready for  your majesty's inspection.  They can be put to any use that  theirsovereign may desire; bid them go through fire and  water, and they will not disobey."       But the King replied:  "Let our general cease drilling  and return tocamp.  As for us, We have no wish to come down  and inspect the troops."       Thereupon Sun Tzu said:  "The King is only fond of  words, and cannot translatethem into deeds."       After that, Ho Lu saw that Sun Tzu was one who knew how  to handle an army, and finally appointed him general.  In the  west, hedefeated the Ch`u State and forced his way into  Ying, the capital; to the north he put fear into the States  of Ch`i and Chin, and spread his fame abroadamongst the  feudal princes.  And Sun Tzu shared in the might of the King.     About Sun Tzu himself this is all that Ssu-ma Ch`ien has totell us in thischapter.  But he proceeds to give a biography ofhis descendant,  Sun Pin, born about a hundred years after hisfamous ancestor's death, and also the outstandingmilitary geniusof his time.  The historian speaks of him too as Sun Tzu, and inhis preface we read:  "Sun Tzu had his feet cut off and yetcontinued to discuss theart of war." [3]  It seems likely, then,that  "Pin" was a nickname bestowed on him after his mutilation,unless the story was invented in order to account for thename.The crowning incident of his career, the crushing defeat of histreacherous rival P`ang Chuan, will be found briefly related inChapter V. ss. 19, note.     Toreturn to the elder Sun Tzu.  He is mentioned in twoother passages of the SHIH CHI: --       In the third year of his reign [512 B.C.] Ho Lu, king of  Wu, took thefield with Tzu-hsu [i.e. Wu Yuan] and Po P`ei,  and attacked Ch`u.  He captured the town of Shu and slew the  two prince's sons who had formerly been generalsof Wu.  He  was then meditating a descent on Ying [the capital]; but the  general Sun Wu said:  "The army is exhausted.  It is not yet  possible.  We mustwait"....  [After further successful  fighting,]  "in the ninth year  [506 B.C.],  King Ho Lu  addressed Wu Tzu-hsu and Sun Wu, saying:   "Formerly, you  declaredthat it was not yet possible for us to enter Ying.  Is the time ripe now?"  The two men replied:  "Ch`u's general  Tzu-ch`ang, [4] is grasping and covetous, and


ï»¿Project Gutenberg's The Marriage of William Ashe, by Mrs. Humphry WardThis 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 Marriage of William AsheAuthor: Mrs. Humphry WardRelease Date: November 22, 2004 [EBook #14126][This file last updatedNovember 24, 2010]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARRIAGE OF WILLIAM ASHE ***Produced by Andrew Templeton,Juliet Sutherland, Charlie Kirschnerand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.[Illustration: LADY KITTY BRISTOL]The MarriageofWilliam AsheBYMRS.HUMPHRY WARDAuthor of "Lady Rose's Daughter" "Eleanor" etc.ILLUSTRATED BYALBERT STERNER[Illustration]1905Contents                                  PAGEPARTI. ACQUAINTANCE . . . . . . .   1PART II. THREE YEARS AFTER . . . . 125PART III. DEVELOPMENT  . . . . . . 293PART IV. STORM . . . . . . . . . . 365PART V.REQUIESCAT . . . . . . . . 511TOD.M.W.DAUGHTER AND FRIENDI INSCRIBE THIS BOOKMARCH, 1905IllustrationsLADY KITTY BRISTOL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..  _Frontispiece_LADY TRANMORE AND MARY LYSTER  . . . . . . . . . . . . _Facing page_   6"A SLIM GIRL IN WHITE AT THE FAR END OF THE LARGE ROOM"  . . . . ..  44THE FINISHING TOUCHES  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200"HE GATHERED HER IN HIS ARMS"  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278"THE ACTRESS PAUSED TOSTARE AT LADY KITTY"  . . . . . . . . . . . . 438"SHE THOUGHT OF CLIFFE STANDING BESIDE THE DOOR OF THE GREAT HALL" . 474"HE DREW SOME CHAIRSTOGETHER BEFORE THE FIRE" . . . . . . . . . . . 556PART IACQUAINTANCE                              "Just oblige me and touch     With your scourge that minx Chloe,but don't hurt her much."The Marriage of William AsheI"He ought to be here," said Lady Tranmore, as she turned away from thewindow.Mary Lyster laid down herwork. It was a fine piece of churchembroidery, which, seeing that it had been designed for her by no less aperson than young Mr. Burne Jones himself, made herthe envy of herpre-Raphaelite friends."Yes, indeed. You made out there was a train about twelve.""Certainly. They can't have taken more than an hour tospeechify afterthe declaration of the poll. And I know William meant to catch thattrain if he possibly could.""And take his seat this evening?"Lady Tranmorenodded. She moved restlessly about the room, fidgetingwith a book here and there, and evidently full of thoughts. Mary Lysterwatched her a little longer, thenquietly took up her work again. Herair of well-bred sympathy, the measured ease of her movements,contrasted with Lady Tranmore's impatience. Yet in truth shewaslistening no less sharply than her companion to the sounds in thestreet outside.Lady Tranmore made her way to the window, and stood there looking outonthe park. It was the week before Easter, and the plane-trees were notyet in leaf. But a few thorns inside the park railings were alreadylavishly green and therewas a glitter of spring flowers beside the parkwalks, not showing, however, in such glorious abundance as became thefashion a few years later. It was a mildafternoon and the drive wasfull of carriages. From the bow-window of the old irregular house inwhich she stood, Lady Tranmore could watch the throng passingandrepassing, could see also the traffic in Park Lane on either side.London, from this point of sight, wore a cheerful, friendly air. The dimsunshine, thewhite-clouded sky, the touches of reviving green andflowers, the soft air blowing in from a farther window which was open,brought with them impressions ofspring, of promise, and rebirth, whichinsensibly affected Lady Tranmore."Well, I wonder what William will do, this time, in Parliament!" shesaid, as she droppedagain into her seat by the fire and began to cutthe pages of a new book."He is sure to do extremely well," said Miss Lyster.Lady Tranmore shrugged hershoulders. "My dear--do you know that Williamhas been for eight years--since he left Trinity--one of the idlest youngmen alive?""He had onebrief!""Yes--somewhere in the country, where all the juniors get one in turn,"said Lady Tranmore. "That was the year he was so keen and went oncircuit, andnever missed a sessions. Next year nothing would inducehim to stir out of town. What has he done with himself all these eightyears? I can't imagine.""He hasgrown--uncommonly handsome," said Mary Lyster, with a momentaryhesitation as she threaded her needle afresh."I never remember him anything else," saidLady Tranmore. "All theartists who came here and to Narroways wanted to paint him. I used tothink it would make him a spoiled little ape. But nothing spoiledhim."Miss Lyster smiled. "You know, Cousin Elizabeth--and you may as wellconfess it at once!--that you think him the ablest, handsomest, andcharmingest ofmen!""Of course I do," said Lady Tranmore, calmly. "I am certain,moreover--now--that he will be Prime Minister. And as for idleness,that, of course, is only a_faÃ§on de parler_. He has worked hard enoughat the things which please him.""There--you see!" said Mary Lyster, laughing."Not politics, anyway," said theelder lady, reflectively. "He wentinto the House to please me, because I was a fool and wanted to seehim there. But I must say when his constituents turned himout lastyear I thought they would have been a mean-spirited set if theyhadn't. They knew very well he'd never done a stroke forthem.Attendances--divisions--perfectly scandalous!""Well, here he is, in triumphantly for somewhere else--with all sorts ofdelightful prospects!"Lady Tranmoresighed. Her white fingers paused in their task."That, of course, is because--now--he's a personage. Everything'll bemade easy for him now. My dear Mary, theytalk of England's being ademocracy!"The speaker raised her handsome shoulders; then, as though to shake offthoughts of loss and grief which had suddenlyassailed her, she abruptlychanged the subject."Well--work or no work--the first thing we've got to do is to marryhim."She looked up sharply. But not the smallesttremor could she detect inMary Lyster's gently moving hand. There was, however, no reply to herremark."Don't you agree, Polly?" said Lady Tranmore,smiling.Her smile--which still gave great beauty to her face--was charming, buta little sly, as she observed her companion."Why, of course," said Miss Lyster,inclining her head to one side thatshe might judge the effect of some green shades she had just put in."But that surely will be made easy for him, too.""Well, afterall, the girls can't propose! And I never saw him take anyinterest in a girl yet--outside his own family, of course," added LadyTranmore, hastily."No--he doescertainly devote himself to the married women," repliedMiss Lyster, in the half-absent tone of one more truly interested in herembroidery than in theconversation."He would sooner have an hour with Madame d'EstrÃ©es than a week with theprettiest miss in London. That's quite true, but I vow it's the girls'ownfault! They should stand on their dignity--snub the creaturesmore! In my young days--"[Illustration: LADY TRANMORE AND MARY LYSTER]"Ah, there wasn't a glutof us then," said Mary, calmly. "Listen!"--sheheld up her hand."Yes," said Lady Tranmore, springing up. "There he is."She stood waiting. The door flew open, andin came a tall young man."William, how late you are!" said Lady Tranmore, as she flew into hisarms."Well, mother, are you pleased?"Her son held her atarm's-length, smiling kindly upon her."Of course I am," said Lady Tranmore. "And you--are you horribly tired?""Not a bit. Ah, Mary!--how do you do?"Miss Lysterhad risen, and the cousins shook hands."But I don't deny it's very jolly to come back--out of all that beastlyscrimmage," said the new member, as he threwhimself into an arm-chairby the fire with his hands behind his head, while Lady Tranmore preparedhim a cup of tea."I expect you've enjoyed it," said Miss Lyster,also moving towards thefire."Well, when you're in it there's a certain excitement in wondering howyou're going to come out of it! But one might say that, ofcourse, ofthe infernal regions.""Not quite," said Mary Lyster, smiling demurely."Polly! you _are_ a Tory. Everybody else's hell has moved--but yours!Thank you,mother," as Lady Tranmore gave him tea. Then, stretching outhis great frame in lazy satisfaction, he turned his brown eyes from onelady to the other. "I say,mother, I haven't seen anything asgood-looking as you--or Polly there, if she'll forgive me--for weeks.""Hold your tongue, goose," said his mother, as shereplenished theteapot. "What--there were no pretty girls--not one?""Well, they didn't come my way," said William, contentedly munching atbread-and-butter. "Ihave gone through all the usual humbug--andperjured my soul in all the usual ways--without any consolation worthspeaking of.""Don't talk nonsense, sir," saidLady Tranmore. "You know you likespeaking--and you like compliments--and you've had plenty of both.""You didn't read me, mother!""Didn't I?" she said,smiling. He groaned, and took another piece oftea-cake."My own family at least, don't you think, might omit that?""H'm, sir--So you didn't believe a word of yourown speeches?" said LadyTranmore, as she stood behind him and smoothed his hair back from hisforehead."Well, who does?" He looked up gayly and kissed thetips of her fingers."And it's in that spirit you're going back into the House?" Mary Lysterthrew him the question--with a slight pinching of the lips--as sheresumedher work."Spirit? What do you mean, Polly? One plays the game, of course--and ithas its moments--its hot corners, so to speak--or I suppose no one wouldplayit!""And the goal?" She lifted a gently disapproving face, in a movementwhich showed anew the large comeliness of head and neck."Why--to keep the otherfellows out, of course!" He lifted an arm anddrew his mother down to sit on the edge of his chair."William, you're not to talk like that," said Lady Tranmore,decidedly,laying her cheek, however, against his hand the while. "It was all verywell when you were quite a free-lance--but now--Oh! never mindMary--she'sdiscreet--and she knows all about it.""What--that they're thinking of giving me Hickson's place? Parham hasjust written to me--I found the letter down-stairs--toask me to go andsee him.""Oh! it's come?" said Lady Tranmore, with a start of pleasure. LordParham was the Prime Minister. "Now don't be a humbug, William,andpretend you're not pleased. But you'll have to work, mind!" She held upan admonishing finger. "You'll have to answer letters, mind!--you'llhave to keepappointments, mind!""Shall I?... Ah!--Hudson--"He turned. The butler was in the room."His lordship, my lady, would like to see Mr. William before dinner ifhecould make it convenient.""Certainly, Hudson, certainly," said the young man. "Tell his lordshipI'll be with him in ten minutes."Then, as the butlerdeparted--"How's father, mother?""Oh! much as usual," said Lady Tranmore, sadly."And you?"He laid his arm boyishly round her waist, and looked up at her,hishandsome face all affection and life. Mary Lyster, observing them,thought them a remarkable pair--he in the very prime and heyday ofbrilliant youth, she so


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                              ROCKNROLLA                              Written by                              GuyRitchie                                                June 19, 2007    WHITE Revision   -   6-6-07                                  1.1   INT. DERELICT BUILDING -DAY                                      1    WE MEET: MUMBLES(late 30s) and ONE TWO (late 30s). They are    listening to a sales pitch from two REAL ESTATEAGENTS.    We SEE all the relevant pictures of their pitch explaining a    changing city, LONDON.                            SLICK ESTATE AGENT(V.O.)              Two years ago this property cost one              million pounds.                  (we SEE building)              Today, it costs five million.    Thecamera WHIP PANS over to another part of the building to    see the other ESTATE AGENT giving his pitch. The camera    will keep this back and forth for theduration of the scene.                            OTHER SLICK ESTATE AGENT (V.O.)              How did this happen?                  (CUT TOrelevant                   pictures as he speaks)              Attractive tax opportunities for              foreign investment, restrictive              building consent andmassive hedge              fund bonuses,...                  (beat)              London, my good man, is fast becoming              the financial and culturalcapital              of the world.                            SLICK ESTATE AGENT              And of course the Russians have come              totown.                            OTHER SLICK ESTATE AGENT              Makes it hard to compete with an ex-              Soviet oligarch that has six