ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lady, or the Tiger?, by Frank R. StocktonThis 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 Lady, or the Tiger?Author: Frank R. StocktonLast updated: December 28, 2008Posting Date: July 20, 2008 [EBook #396]ReleaseDate: January, 1995Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADY, OR THE TIGER? ***Produced by Edward A. Malone.THELADY, OR THE TIGER?byFrank R. StocktonIn the very olden time there lived a semi-barbaric king, whose ideas,though somewhat polished and sharpened by theprogressiveness ofdistant Latin neighbors, were still large, florid, and untrammeled, asbecame the half of him which was barbaric. He was a man ofexuberantfancy, and, withal, of an authority so irresistible that, at his will,he turned his varied fancies into facts. He was greatly given toself-communing, and,when he and himself agreed upon anything, thething was done.  When every member of his domestic and politicalsystems moved smoothly in its appointedcourse, his nature was blandand genial; but, whenever there was a little hitch, and some of hisorbs got out of their orbits, he was blander and more genial still,fornothing pleased him so much as to make the crooked straight and crushdown uneven places.Among the borrowed notions by which his barbarism had becomesemifiedwas that of the public arena, in which, by exhibitions of manly andbeastly valor, the minds of his subjects were refined and cultured.But even here theexuberant and barbaric fancy asserted itself. Thearena of the king was built, not to give the people an opportunity ofhearing the rhapsodies of dying gladiators,nor to enable them to viewthe inevitable conclusion of a conflict between religious opinions andhungry jaws, but for purposes far better adapted to widen anddevelopthe mental energies of the people. This vast amphitheater, with itsencircling galleries, its mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages,was an agent ofpoetic justice, in which crime was punished, or virtuerewarded, by the decrees of an impartial and incorruptible chance.When a subject was accused of a crime ofsufficient importance tointerest the king, public notice was given that on an appointed day thefate of the accused person would be decided in the king's arena,astructure which well deserved its name, for, although its form and planwere borrowed from afar, its purpose emanated solely from the brain ofthis man, who,every barleycorn a king, knew no tradition to which heowed more allegiance than pleased his fancy, and who ingrafted on everyadopted form of human thoughtand action the rich growth of hisbarbaric idealism.When all the people had assembled in the galleries, and the king,surrounded by his court, sat high up on histhrone of royal state onone side of the arena, he gave a signal, a door beneath him opened, andthe accused subject stepped out into the amphitheater.Directlyopposite him, on the other side of the inclosed space, were two doors,exactly alike and side by side. It was the duty and the privilege ofthe person on trialto walk directly to these doors and open one ofthem. He could open either door he pleased; he was subject to noguidance or influence but that of theaforementioned impartial andincorruptible chance. If he opened the one, there came out of it ahungry tiger, the fiercest and most cruel that could be procured,whichimmediately sprang upon him and tore him to pieces as a punishment forhis guilt. The moment that the case of the criminal was thus decided,doleful ironbells were clanged, great wails went up from the hiredmourners posted on the outer rim of the arena, and the vast audience,with bowed heads and downcasthearts, wended slowly their homeward way,mourning greatly that one so young and fair, or so old and respected,should have merited so dire a fate.But, if theaccused person opened the other door, there came forth fromit a lady, the most suitable to his years and station that his majestycould select among his fairsubjects, and to this lady he wasimmediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It mattered not thathe might already possess a wife and family, or that hisaffectionsmight be engaged upon an object of his own selection; the king allowedno such subordinate arrangements to interfere with his great schemeofretribution and reward. The exercises, as in the other instance, tookplace immediately, and in the arena. Another door opened beneath theking, and a priest,followed by a band of choristers, and dancingmaidens blowing joyous airs on golden horns and treading an epithalamicmeasure, advanced to where the pairstood, side by side, and thewedding was promptly and cheerily solemnized. Then the gay brass bellsrang forth their merry peals, the people shouted gladhurrahs, and theinnocent man, preceded by children strewing flowers on his path, ledhis bride to his home.This was the king's semi-barbaric method ofadministering justice. Itsperfect fairness is obvious. The criminal could not know out of whichdoor would come the lady; he opened either he pleased, withouthavingthe slightest idea whether, in the next instant, he was to be devouredor married. On some occasions the tiger came out of one door, and onsome out of theother. The decisions of this tribunal were not onlyfair, they were positively determinate: the accused person wasinstantly punished if he found himself guilty, and,if innocent, he wasrewarded on the spot, whether he liked it or not. There was no escapefrom the judgments of the king's arena.The institution was a verypopular one. When the people gatheredtogether on one of the great trial days, they never knew whether theywere to witness a bloody slaughter or a hilariouswedding.  Thiselement of uncertainty lent an interest to the occasion which it couldnot otherwise have attained. Thus, the masses were entertained andpleased,and the thinking part of the community could bring no chargeof unfairness against this plan, for did not the accused person havethe whole matter in his ownhands?This semi-barbaric king had a daughter as blooming as his most floridfancies, and with a soul as fervent and imperious as his own. As isusual in suchcases, she was the apple of his eye, and was loved by himabove all humanity. Among his courtiers was a young man of thatfineness of blood and lowness ofstation common to the conventionalheroes of romance who love royal maidens. This royal maiden was wellsatisfied with her lover, for he was handsome andbrave to a degreeunsurpassed in all this kingdom, and she loved him with an ardor thathad enough of barbarism in it to make it exceedingly warm andstrong.This love affair moved on happily for many months, until one day theking happened to discover its existence. He did not hesitate nor waverin regard to hisduty in the premises. The youth was immediately castinto prison, and a day was appointed for his trial in the king's arena.This, of course, was an especiallyimportant occasion, and his majesty,as well as all the people, was greatly interested in the workings anddevelopment of this trial. Never before had such a caseoccurred; neverbefore had a subject dared to love the daughter of the king. In afteryears such things became commonplace enough, but then they were innoslight degree novel and startling.The tiger-cages of the kingdom were searched for the most savage andrelentless beasts, from which the fiercest monstermight be selectedfor the arena; and the ranks of maiden youth and beauty throughout theland were carefully surveyed by competent judges in order thattheyoung man might have a fitting bride in case fate did not determine forhim a different destiny. Of course, everybody knew that the deed withwhich theaccused was charged had been done. He had loved the princess,and neither he, she, nor any one else, thought of denying the fact; butthe king would not think ofallowing any fact of this kind to interferewith the workings of the tribunal, in which he took such great delightand satisfaction. No matter how the affair turnedout, the youth wouldbe disposed of, and the king would take an aesthetic pleasure inwatching the course of events, which would determine whether or nottheyoung man had done wrong in allowing himself to love the princess.The appointed day arrived. From far and near the people gathered, andthronged the greatgalleries of the arena, and crowds, unable to gainadmittance, massed themselves against its outside walls.  The king andhis court were in their places, oppositethe twin doors, those fatefulportals, so terrible in their similarity.All was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the royal partyopened, and the lover of theprincess walked into the arena.  Tall,beautiful, fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum ofadmiration and anxiety. Half the audience had not known sogrand ayouth had lived among them. No wonder the princess loved him! What aterrible thing for him to be there!As the youth advanced into the arena he turned,as the custom was, tobow to the king, but he did not think at all of that royal personage.His eyes were fixed upon the princess, who sat to the right of herfather.Had it not been for the moiety of barbarism in her nature it isprobable that lady would not have been there, but her intense andfervid soul would not allow her tobe absent on an occasion in whichshe was so terribly interested. From the moment that the decree hadgone forth that her lover should decide his fate in theking's arena,she had thought of nothing, night or day, but this great event and thevarious subjects connected with it. Possessed of more power, influence,andforce of character than any one who had ever before been interestedin such a case, she had done what no other person had done,--she hadpossessed herself ofthe secret of the doors. She knew in which of thetwo rooms, that lay behind those doors, stood the cage of the tiger,with its open front, and in which waited thelady.  Through these thickdoors, heavily curtained with skins on the inside, it was impossiblethat any noise or suggestion should come from within to the personwhoshould approach to raise the latch of one of them. But gold, and thepower of a woman's will, had brought the secret to the princess.And not only did she knowin which room stood the lady ready to emerge,all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but she knew whothe lady was. It was one of the fairest andloveliest of the damsels ofthe court who had been selected as the reward of the accused youth,should he be proved innocent of the crime of aspiring to one sofarabove him; and the princess hated her. Often had she seen, or imaginedthat she had seen, this fair creature throwing glances of admirationupon the person ofher lover, and sometimes she thought these glanceswere perceived, and even returned. Now and then she had seen themtalking together; it was but for amoment or two, but much can be saidin a brief space; it may have been on most unimportant topics, but howcould she know that? The girl was lovely, but shehad dared to raiseher eyes to the loved one of the princess; and, with all the intensityof the savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of whollybarbaric


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                                  SOURCE CODE                                  Written by                                  BenRipley                                                          1/18/2007                                                  SOURCE CODE          Darkness.          A SOUNDslowly builds: the rhythmic rocking of a TRAIN'S          WHEELS over RAILROAD TRACKS...          INT. HIGH SPEED TRAIN - MORNING          COLTERjolts awake. Sunlight hits his face.          He blinks. A stunned beat. He's disoriented.          Slowly he turns his head to one side...          PASSENGERS. Fillingmost of the seats. Office workers on          their morning commute into a city.          Turning the other way, he's confronted with a window. Trees          flash by,splitting the rising sunlight into a hypnotic          strobe pattern.          Colter looks to be thirty years old. A military buzz cut. A          disciplined physique, leanand spare, almost gaunt. Skin          burnished by years of desert sandstorms and equatorial sun.          His expression, prematurely aged by combat, isperpetually          wary, sometimes predatory, accustomed to trouble.          Despite his military bearing, Colter wears a button down          shirt and navy sportscoat. On his wrist is a digital watch.          It reads 7:40 a.m.          He swallows. A strange, creeping panic.          He has no idea where he is.          EXT.NEW JERSEY COUNTRYSIDE - MORNING          The train hurls straight at us.          NEW ANGLE -- Skimming alongside as the train twists and          turns,sucking up track -- feet, yards, miles of it.          Beneath it, the curving rails, which the rushing train barely          seems to touch. They vibrate with an eerie,


The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Black Dwarf, by Sir Walter ScottThis 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 Black DwarfAuthor: Sir Walter ScottRelease Date: February 15, 2006 [EBook #1460]Last Updated: August 30, 2016Language:EnglishCharacter set encoding: UTF-8*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK DWARF ***Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and DavidWidgerTHE BLACK DWARFby Sir Walter ScottCONTENTS.     I.    Tales of my Landlord     Introduction by Jedediah Cleishbotham      II.   Introduction to THEBLACK DWARF     III.  Main text of THE BLACK DWARF     Note:  Footnotes in the printed book have been inserted in the     etext in square brackets ([]) closeto the place where     they were referenced by a suffix in the original text.     Text in italics has been written in capital letters.I. TALES OF MYLANDLORDCOLLECTED AND REPORTED BY JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM, SCHOOLMASTER ANDPARISH-CLERK OF GANDERCLEUGH.INTRODUCTION.As I may,without vanity, presume that the name and official descriptionprefixed to this Proem will secure it, from the sedate and reflectingpart of mankind, to whom only Iwould be understood to address myself,such attention as is due to the sedulous instructor of youth, and thecareful performer of my Sabbath duties, I will forbearto hold upa candle to the daylight, or to point out to the judicious thoserecommendations of my labours which they must necessarily anticipatefrom the perusal ofthe title-page. Nevertheless, I am not unaware,that, as Envy always dogs Merit at the heels, there may be those whowill whisper, that albeit my learning andgood principles cannot(lauded be the heavens) be denied by any one, yet that my situation atGandercleugh hath been more favourable to my acquisitions inlearningthan to the enlargement of my views of the ways and works of the presentgeneration. To the which objection, if, peradventure, any such shall bestarted,my answer shall be threefold:First, Gandercleugh is, as it were, the central part--the navel (SIFAS SIT DICERE) of this our native realm of Scotland; so that men,fromevery corner thereof, when travelling on their concernments of business,either towards our metropolis of law, by which I mean Edinburgh, ortowards ourmetropolis and mart of gain, whereby I insinuate Glasgow,are frequently led to make Gandercleugh their abiding stage and place ofrest for the night. And it mustbe acknowledged by the most sceptical,that I, who have sat in the leathern armchair, on the left-hand side ofthe fire, in the common room of the Wallace Inn,winter and summer,for every evening in my life, during forty years bypast (the ChristianSabbaths only excepted), must have seen more of the manners andcustomsof various tribes and people, than if I had sought them out by myown painful travel and bodily labour. Even so doth the tollman at thewell-frequentedturn-pike on the Wellbraehead, sitting at his ease inhis own dwelling, gather more receipt of custom, than if, moving forthupon the road, he were to require acontribution from each person whomhe chanced to meet in his journey, when, according to the vulgar adage,he might possibly be greeted with more kicks thanhalfpence.But, secondly, supposing it again urged, that Ithacus, the most wise ofthe Greeks, acquired his renown, as the Roman poet hath assured us, byvisitingstates and men, I reply to the Zoilus who shall adhere to thisobjection, that, DE FACTO, I have seen states and men also; for I havevisited the famous cities ofEdinburgh and Glasgow, the former twice,and the latter three times, in the course of my earthly pilgrimage. And,moreover, I had the honour to sit in the GeneralAssembly (meaning, asan auditor, in the galleries thereof), and have heard as much goodlyspeaking on the law of patronage, as, with the fructification thereofinmine own understanding, hath made me be considered as an oracle uponthat doctrine ever since my safe and happy return to Gandercleugh.Again--and thirdly, Ifit be nevertheless pretended that my informationand knowledge of mankind, however extensive, and however painfullyacquired, by constant domestic enquiry,and by foreign travel, is,natheless, incompetent to the task of recording the pleasant narrativesof my Landlord, I will let these critics know, to their owneternalshame and confusion as well as to the abashment and discomfiture of allwho shall rashly take up a song against me, that I am NOT the writer,redacter, orcompiler, of the Tales of my Landlord; nor am I, in onesingle iota, answerable for their contents, more or less. And now, yegeneration of critics, who raiseyourselves up as if it were brazenserpents, to hiss with your tongues, and to smite with your stings, bowyourselves down to your native dust, and acknowledgethat yours havebeen the thoughts of ignorance, and the words of vain foolishness. Lo!ye are caught in your own snare, and your own pit hath yawned foryou.Turn, then, aside from the task that is too heavy for you; destroynot your teeth by gnawing a file; waste not your strength by spurningagainst a castle wall;nor spend your breath in contending in swiftnesswith a fleet steed; and let those weigh the Tales of my Landlord, whoshall bring with them the scales of candourcleansed from the rust ofprejudice by the hands of intelligent modesty. For these alone they werecompiled, as will appear from a brief narrative which my zeal fortruthcompelled me to make supplementary to the present Proem.It is well known that my Landlord was a pleasing and a facetious man,acceptable unto all theparish of Gandercleugh, excepting only theLaird, the Exciseman, and those for whom he refused to draw liquor upontrust. Their causes of dislike I will touchseparately, adding my ownrefutation thereof.His honour, the Laird, accused our Landlord, deceased, of havingencouraged, in various times and places, thedestruction of hares,rabbits, fowls black and grey, partridges, moor-pouts, roe-deer, andother birds and quadrupeds, at unlawful seasons, and contrary tothelaws of this realm, which have secured, in their wisdom, the slaughterof such animals for the great of the earth, whom I have remarked to takean uncommon(though to me, an unintelligible) pleasure therein. Now, inhumble deference to his honour, and in justifiable defence of my frienddeceased, I reply to this charge,that howsoever the form of suchanimals might appear to be similar to those so protected by the law, yetit was a mere DECEPTIO VISUS; for what resembledhares were, in fact,HILL-KIDS, and those partaking of the appearance of moor-fowl, weretruly WOOD PIGEONS and consumed and eaten EO NOMINE, and nototherwise.Again, the Exciseman pretended, that my deceased Landlord did encouragethat species of manufacture called distillation, without having anespecialpermission from the Great, technically called a license, fordoing so. Now, I stand up to confront this falsehood; and in defianceof him, his gauging-stick, and penand inkhorn, I tell him, that Inever saw, or tasted, a glass of unlawful aqua vitae in the house ofmy Landlord; nay, that, on the contrary, we needed not suchdevices, inrespect of a pleasing and somewhat seductive liquor, which was vendedand consumed at the Wallace Inn, under the name of MOUNTAIN DEW. Ifthereis a penalty against manufacturing such a liquor, let him show methe statute; and when he does, Ill tell him if I will obey it or no.Concerning those who came tomy Landlord for liquor, and went thirstyaway, for lack of present coin, or future credit, I cannot but say ithas grieved my bowels as if the case had been mineown. Nevertheless, myLandlord considered the necessities of a thirsty soul, and would permitthem, in extreme need, and when their soul was impoverished forlackof moisture, to drink to the full value of their watches and wearingapparel, exclusively of their inferior habiliments, which he wasuniformly inexorable inobliging them to retain, for the credit of thehouse. As to mine own part, I may well say, that he never refused methat modicum of refreshment with which I amwont to recruit nature afterthe fatigues of my school. It is true, I taught his five sons Englishand Latin, writing, book-keeping, with a tincture of mathematics,andthat I instructed his daughter in psalmody. Nor do I remember me ofany fee or HONORARIUM received from him on account of these my labours,except thecompotations aforesaid. Nevertheless this compensation suitedmy humour well, since it is a hard sentence to bid a dry throat waittill quarter-day.But, truly, wereI to speak my simple conceit and belief, I think myLandlord was chiefly moved to waive in my behalf the usual requisitionof a symbol, or reckoning, from thepleasure he was wont to take in myconversation, which, though solid and edifying in the main, was, likea well-built palace, decorated with facetious narrativesand devices,tending much to the enhancement and ornament thereof. And so pleased wasmy Landlord of the Wallace in his replies during such colloquies,thatthere was no district in Scotland, yea, and no peculiar, and, as itwere, distinctive custom therein practised, but was discussed betwixtus; insomuch, thatthose who stood by were wont to say, it was wortha bottle of ale to hear us communicate with each other. And not a fewtravellers, from distant parts, as well asfrom the remote districts ofour kingdom, were wont to mingle in the conversation, and to tell newsthat had been gathered in foreign lands, or preserved fromoblivion inthis our own.Now I chanced to have contracted for teaching the lower classes with ayoung person called Peter, or Patrick, Pattieson, who had beeneducatedfor our Holy Kirk, yea, had, by the license of presbytery, his voiceopened therein as a preacher, who delighted in the collection of oldentales and legends,and in garnishing them with the flowers of poesy,whereof he was a vain and frivolous professor. For he followed not theexample of those strong poets whom Iproposed to him as a pattern, butformed versification of a flimsy and modern texture, to the compoundingwhereof was necessary small pains and less thought.And hence I havechid him as being one of those who bring forward the fatal revolutionprophesied by Mr. Robert Carey, in his Vaticination on the Death ofthecelebrated Dr. John Donne:     Now thou art gone, and thy strict laws will be     Too hard for libertines in poetry;     Till verse (by thee refined) in this lastage     Turn ballad rhyme.I had also disputations with him touching his indulging rather aflowing and redundant than a concise and stately diction in hisproseexercitations. But notwithstanding these symptoms of inferior taste,and a humour of contradicting his betters upon passages of dubiousconstruction in Latinauthors, I did grievously lament when PeterPattieson was removed from me by death, even as if he had been theoffspring of my own loins. And in respect hispapers had been left inmy care (to answer funeral and death-bed expenses), I conceived myselfentitled to dispose of one parcel thereof, entitled, Tales ofmyLandlord, to one cunning in the trade (as it is called) of bookselling.He was a mirthful man, of small stature, cunning in counterfeiting ofvoices, and in


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Recruiting Officer, by George FarquharThis 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: The Recruiting OfficerAuthor: George FarquharCommentator: Elizabeth InchbaldRelease Date: August 8, 2011 [EBook#37012]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RECRUITING OFFICER ***Produced by Delphine Lettau and the OnlineDistributedProofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net THE RECRUITING OFFICER, A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS; BY GEORGE FARQUHAR, ESQ. ASPERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN. PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS FROM THE PROMPT BOOK. WITH REMARKS BYMRS. INCHBALD. LONDON: PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME PATERNOSTER ROW. WILLIAM SAVAGE, PRINTER, LONDON.REMARKS.If the twolast acts of this drama were equal to the three first, itwould rank the foremost among Farquhar's works; for these are brilliantin wit, humour, character, incident,and every other requisite necessaryto form a complete comedy. But the decrease of merit in a play, onapproaching its conclusion, is, as in all other productions,of mostunfortunate consequence.The author was himself a recruiting officer, and possibly gathered allthe materials for this play on the very spot where he hasplaced hisscene--Shrewsbury. He has dedicated the piece "to all friends round theWrekin," and has thanked the inhabitants of the town for thatcheerfulhospitality, which made, he adds, "the recruiting service, to some menthe greatest fatigue on earth, to me the greatest pleasure in theworld."He evenacknowledges, that he found the country folk, whom he has hereintroduced--meaning those most excellently drawn characters of Rose, herbrother, and the tworecruits,--under the shade of that beforementionedhill near Shrewsbury, the Wrekin; and it may be well supposed, that hediscovered Serjeant Kite in his ownRegiment, and Captain Plume in hisown person. Certainly those characters have every appearance of beingcopied from life--and probably, many other of hisSalopian acquaintancehave here had their portraits drawn to perfection.The disguise of Sylvia in boy's clothes, is an improbable, and romanticoccurrence; yet it isone of those dramatic events, which were consideredas perfectly natural in former times; although neither history, nortradition, gives any cause to suppose, thatthe English ladies wereaccustomed to attire themselves in man's apparel; and reason assuresus, that they could seldom, if ever, have concealed their sex bysuchstratagem.Another incident in the "Recruiting Officer" might have had its value ahundred years ago--just the time since the play was first acted; but tothepresent generation, it is so dull, that it casts a heaviness uponall those scenes, whereon it has any influence. Fortune-tellers are nowa set of personages, inwhom, and in whose skill or fraud, no rationalperson takes interest; and though such people still exist by theirprofession, they are so vile, they are beneathsatire; and their dupessuch ideots, they do not even enjoy sense enough, for their folly toproduce risibility.Perhaps, the author despised this part of his play, asmuch as theseverest critic can do; but having expended his store of entertainmentupon the foregoing scenes, he was compelled to supply the bulk of thetwo lastacts, from the scanty fund of wasted spirits, and exhaustedinvention.The life of Farquhar was full of adventures.--As a student, he wasexpelled the college ofDublin, for adventuring profane wit upon asacred theme, given to him by his tutor for his exercise.As an actor, he forsook the stage in grief and horror, onhavingunknowingly made use of a real sword, instead of a counterfeit one, bywhich he wounded a brother performer, with whom he had to fence in atragedy,nearly to the loss of his life.In love, and marriage, his enterprises were still more unhappilyterminated.--And merely as an author, and a soldier, can any eventsofhis life be accounted prosperous.As a dramatic writer, Farquhar was eminently successful; and in hismilitary capacity, he was ever honoured andbeloved--whether fightingwith a great army in Flanders, or recruiting with a small party inShropshire.DRAMATIS PERSONÃ. CAPTAIN PLUME          _Mr.Holman._ JUSTICE BALANCE        _Mr. Murray._ WORTHY                 _Mr. Whitfield._ SERJEANT KITE          _Mr. Knight._ BULLOCK                _Mr. Fawcett._FIRST RECRUIT          _Mr. Munden._ SECOND RECRUIT         _Mr. Emery._ WELSH COLLIER          _Mr. Farley._ CONSTABLE              _Mr. Thompson._CAPTAIN BRAZEN         _Mr. Lewis._ MELINDA                _Miss Chapman._ ROSE                   _Mrs. Gibbs._ LUCY                   _Mrs. Litchfield._SYLVIA                 _Mrs. Johnson._ _SCENE--Shrewsbury._THE RECRUITING OFFICER.ACT THE FIRST.SCENE I._The Market Place.__Drum beats the Grenadier'sMarch.--Enter_ SERJEANT KITE, _followed by_THOMAS APPLETREE, COSTAR PEARMAIN, _and the_ MOB.Kite. [_Making a Speech._] If any gentlemen soldiers orothers, havea mind to serve his majesty, and pull down the French king; if any'prentices have severe masters, any children have undutiful parents; ifany servantshave too little wages, or any husband too much wife, letthem repair to the noble Serjeant Kite, at the sign of the Raven, inthis good town of Shrewsbury, andthey shall receive present relief andentertainment.--[_Drum._]--Gentlemen, I don't beat my drums here toinsnare or inveigle any man; for you must know,gentlemen, that I am aman of honour: besides, I don't beat up for common soldiers; no, I listonly grenadiers; grenadiers, gentlemen.----Pray, gentlemen,observethis cap--this is the cap of honour; it dubs a man a gentleman, in thedrawing of a trigger; and he, that has the good fortune to be born sixfoot high, wasborn to be a great man--Sir, will you give me leave totry this cap upon your head?_Cost._ Is there no harm in't? won't the cap list me?_Kite._ No, no, no morethan I can.--Come, let me see how it becomesyou._Cost._ Are you sure there is no conjuration in it? no gunpowder plotupon me?_Kite._ No, no, friend; don'tfear, man._Cost._ My mind misgives me plaguily.--Let me see it--[_Going to put iton._] It smells woundily of sweat and brimstone. Smell, Tummas._Tho._ Ay,wauns does it._Cost._ Pray, Serjeant, what writing is this upon the face of it?_Kite._ The crown, or the bed of honour._Cost._ Pray now, what may be that samebed of honour?_Kite._ Oh! a mighty large bed! bigger by half than the great bed atWare--ten thousand people may lie in it together, and never feeloneanother._Cost._ My wife and I would do well to lie in't, for we don't care forfeeling one another----But do folk sleep sound in this same bed ofhonour?_Kite._Sound! ay, so sound that they never wake._Cost._ Wauns! I wish again that my wife lay there._Kite._ Say you so! then I find, brother----_Cost._ Brother! holdthere friend; I am no kindred to you that I knowof yet.--Lookye, serjeant, no coaxing, no wheedling, d'ye see--If I havea mind to list, why so--if not, why 'tis notso--therefore take your capand your brothership back again, for I am not disposed at this presentwriting.--No coaxing, no brothering me, 'faith._Kite._ I coax! Iwheedle! I'm above it, sir: I have served twentycampaigns----but, sir, you talk well, and I must own that you are a man,every inch of you; a pretty, young,sprightly fellow!--I love a fellowwith a spirit; but I scorn to coax; 'tis base; though I must say, thatnever in my life have I seen a man better built. How firm andstrong hetreads! he steps like a castle! but I scorn to wheedle any man--Come,honest lad! will you take share of a pot?_Cost._ Nay, for that matter, I'll spend mypenny with the best he thatwears a head, that is, begging your pardon, sir, and in a fair way._Kite._ Give me your hand then; and now, gentlemen, I have nomore tosay but this--here's a purse of gold, and there is a tub of humming aleat my quarters--'tis the king's money, and the king's drink--he's agenerous king,and loves his subjects--I hope, gentlemen, you won'trefuse the king's health._All Mob._ No, no, no._Kite._ Huzza, then! huzza for the king, and the honour ofShropshire._All Mob._ Huzza!_Kite._ Beat drum.     [_Exeunt, shouting.--Drum beating the Grenadier's March._     _Enter_ PLUME, _in a Riding Habit_._Plume._By the Grenadier's march, that should be my drum, and by thatshout, it should beat with success.--Let me see--four o'clock--[_Lookingon his Watch._] At tenyesterday morning I left London--an hundred andtwenty miles in thirty hours is pretty smart riding, but nothing to thefatigue of recruiting.     _Enter_KITE._Kite._ Welcome to Shrewsbury, noble captain! from the banks of theDanube to the Severn side, noble captain! you're welcome._Plume._ A very elegantreception, indeed, Mr. Kite. I find you arefairly entered into your recruiting strain--Pray what success?_Kite._ I've been here a week, and I've recruitedfive._Plume._ Five! pray what are they?_Kite._ I have listed the strong man of Kent, the king of the gipsies, aScotch pedlar, a scoundrel attorney, and a Welshparson._Plume._ An attorney! wert thou mad? list a lawyer! discharge him,discharge him, this minute._Kite._ Why, sir?_Plume._ Because I will have nobody inmy company that can write; afellow that can write, can draw petitions--I say this minute dischargehim._Kite._ And what shall I do with the parson?_Plume._ Canhe write?_Kite._ Hum? he plays rarely upon the fiddle._Plume._ Keep him, by all means--But how stands the country affected?were the people pleased with thenews of my coming to town?_Kite._ Sir, the mob are so pleased with your honour, and the justicesand better sort of people, are so delighted with me, that weshall soondo your business----But, sir, you have got a recruit here, that youlittle think of._Plume._ Who?_Kite._ One that you beat up for the last time you werein the country.You remember your old friend Molly, at the Castle?_Plume._ She's not with child, I hope?_Kite._ She was brought to-bed yesterday._Plume._ Kite,you must father the child._Kite._ And so her friends will oblige me to marry the mother._Plume._ If they should, we'll take her with us; she can wash, youknow,and make a bed upon occasion._Kite._ Ay, or unmake it upon occasion. But your honour knows that I ammarried already._Plume._ To how many?_Kite._ I can'ttell readily--I have set them down here upon the back ofthe muster-roll. [_Draws it out._] Let me see--_Imprimis_, Mrs. ShelySnikereyes; she sells potatoesupon Ormond key, in Dublin--Peggy Guzzle,the brandy woman at the Horse Guards, at Whitehall--Dolly Waggon, thecarrier's daughter, at Hull--Mademoiselle VanBottomflat, at theBuss--then Jenny Oakum, the ship-carpenter's widow, at Portsmouth; butI don't reckon upon her, for she was married at the same time totwolieutenants of marines, and a man of war's boatswain._Plume._ A full company--you have named five--come, make them half adozen--Kite, is the child a boy,or a girl?_Kite._ A chopping boy._Plume._ Then set the mother down in your list, and the boy in mine;enter him a grenadier, by the name of Francis Kite, absent


ï»¿Project Gutenberg's The Fatal Dowry, by Philip Massinger and Nathaniel FieldThis 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: The Fatal DowryAuthor: Philip Massinger        Nathaniel FieldEditor: Charles Lacy LockertRelease Date: October 23, 2013 [EBook#44015]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: UTF-8*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FATAL DOWRY ***Produced by RobertCicconetti, Jennifer Linklater and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net(This file was produced from images generously madeavailableby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)  THE FATAL DOWRY  BY  PHILIP MASSINGER AND  NATHANIEL FIELD  EDITED, FROM THE ORIGINAL QUARTO,  WITHINTRODUCTION AND NOTES  A DISSERTATION  PRESENTED TO THE  FACULTY OF PRINCETON UNIVERSITY  IN CANDIDACY FOR THE DEGREE  OF DOCTOR OFPHILOSOPHY  BY  CHARLES LACY LOCKERT, JR.  ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH, KENYON COLLEGE  PRESS OF  THE NEW ERA PRINTINGCOMPANY  LANCASTER, PA.  1918  Accepted by the Department of English, June, 1916PREFACEThis critical edition of _The Fatal Dowry_ was undertaken as aThesisin partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Ph.D. atPrinceton University. It was compiled under the guidance and directionof Professor T.Â M.Parrott of that institution, and every page ofit is indebted to him for suggestion, advice, and criticism. I canbut inadequately indicate the scope of his painstakingand scholarlysupervision, and can even less adequately express my appreciation ofhis ever-patient aid, which alone made this work possible.I desire also toacknowledge my debt to Professor J. Duncan Spaethof Princeton University, for his valuable suggestions in regard tothe presentation of my material, notably inthe Introduction; also toProfessor T.Â W. Baldwin of Muskingum College and Mr. Henry Bowman,both of them then fellow graduate students of mine at Princeton,forassistance on several occasions in matters of special inquiry; and toDr. M.Â W. Tyler of the Princeton Department of History for directing mein clearing up alego-historical point; and finally to the libraries ofYale and Columbia Universities for their kind loan of needed books.INTRODUCTIONIn the StationerâsRegister the following entry is recorded under thedate of â30Âº Martij 1632:â  CONSTABLE Entred for his copy vnder the hands of Sir HENRYHERBERT    and master _SMITHWICKE_ warden a Tragedy called _the ffatall    Dowry_.    Vj d.In the year 1632 was published a quarto volume whose title-pagewasinscribed: _The Fatall Dowry_: a Tragedy: As it hath been often Actedat the Private House in Blackfriars, by his Majesties Servants.Written by P.Â M. andN.Â F. London, Printed by John Norton, for FrancisConstable, and are to be sold at his shop at the Crane, in PaulsChurchyard. 1632.That the initials by which theauthors are designated stand for PhilipMassinger and Nathaniel Field is undoubted.LATER TEXTSThere is no other seventeenth century edition of _The FatalDowry_. Itwas included in various subsequent collections, as follows:I. _The Works of Philip Massinger_--edited by Thomas Coxeter,1759--re-issued in 1761, withan introduction by T. Davies.II. _The Dramatic Works of Philip Massinger_--edited by John MonckMason, 1779.III. _The Plays of Philip Massinger_--edited byWilliam Gifford, 1805.There was a revised second edition in 1813, which is still regarded asthe Standard Massinger Text, and was followed in subsequent editionsofGifford.IV. _Modern British Drama_--edited by Sir Walter Scott, 1811. The textof this reprint of _The Fatal Dowry_ is Giffordâs.V. _Dramatic Works ofMassinger and Ford_--edited by Hartley Coleridge,1840 (_et seq._). This follows the text of Gifford.VI. _The Plays of Philip Massinger._ From the Text of WilliamGifford.With the Addition of the Tragedy Believe as You List. Edited by FrancisCunningham, 1867 (_et seq._). The Fatal Dowry in this edition, as inthe preceding,is a mere reprint of the Second Edition of Gifford.VII. _Philip Massinger._ Selected Plays. (Mermaid Series.) Edited byArthur Symons, 1887-9 (_et seq._).Inaddition to the above, _The Fatal Dowry_ appeared in _The Plays ofPhilip Massinger_, adapted for family reading and the use of youngpersons, by the omission ofobjectionable passages,--edited by Harness,1830-1; and another expurgated version was printed in the _Mirror ofTaste and Dramatic Censor_, 1810. Both ofthese are based on the textof Gifford.The edition of Coxeter is closest of all to the Quarto, following evenmany of its most palpable mistakes, and adding someblunders on itsown account. Mason accepts practically all of Coxeterâs corrections,and supplies a great many more variants himself, not all of which areveryhappy. Both these eighteenth century editors continually contractfor the sake of securing a perfectly regular metre (e.Â g.: _Youâre_for _You are_, I, i, 139;_thâ honours_ for _the honours_, I, ii, 35;etc.), while Giffordâs tendency is to give the full form for even thecontractions of the Quarto, changing its_âemâs_ to _themâs_, etc.Gifford can scarce find words sharp enough to express his scorn for hispredecessors in their lack of observance of the textof the Quarto,yet he himself frequently repeats their gratuitous emendations whenthe original was a perfectly sure guide, and he has almost a maniafortampering with the Quarto on his own account. Symonsâ _Mermaid_ text,while based essentially on that of Gifford, in a number of instancesdeparts fromit, sometimes to make further emendations, but more oftento go back from those of Gifford to the version of the original, sothat on the whole this is the best textyet published.There has been a German translation by the Graf von Baudisson, underthe title of _Die Unselige Mitgift_, in his _Ben Jonson und seineSchule_,Leipsig, 1836; and a French translation, in prose, underthe title of _La dot fatale_ by E. Lafond in _Contemporains deShakespeare_, Paris, 1864.DATEThe date ofthe composition or original production of _The Fatal Dowry_is not known. The Quarto speaks of it as having been âoften acted,â sothere is nothing toprevent our supposing that it came into existencemany years before its publication. It does not seem to have beenentered in Sir Henry Herbertâs OfficeBook.[1] This would indicate itsappearance to have been prior to Herbertâs assumption of the duties ofhis office in August, 1623. In seeking a more precisedate we can dealonly in probabilities.[2]The play having been produced by the Kingâs Men, a company in whichField acted, it was most probably writtenduring his associationtherewith. This was formed in 1616; the precise date of his retirementfrom the stage is not known. His name appears in the patent ofMarch27, 1619, just after the death of Burbage, and again and for the lasttime in a livery list for his Majestyâs Servants, dated May 19, 1619.It is absent fromthe next grant for livery (1621) and from the actorsâlists for various plays which are assigned to 1619 or 1620. We maytherefore assume safely that hisconnection with the stage ended beforethe close of 1619. On the basis of probability, then, the field isnarrowed to 1616-19.[3]More or less presumptive evidencemay be adduced for a yet morespecific dating. During these years that Field acted with the KingâsMen, two plays appeared which bear strong internalevidence of beingproducts of his collaboration with Massinger and Fletcher: _The Knightof Malta_ and _The Queen of Corinth_. While several parallelsofphraseology are afforded for _The Fatal Dowry_ by these (as, indeed, byevery one of the works of Massinger) they are not nearly so numerousor so striking assimilarities discoverable between it and certainother dramas of the Massinger _corpus_. With none does the connectionseem so intimate as with _The UnnaturalCombat_. Both plays open witha scene in which a young suppliant for a fatherâs cause is counseled,in passages irresistibly reminiscent of each other, to layaside prideand modesty for the parentâs sake, because not otherwise can justicebe gained, and it is the custom of the age to sue for it shamelessly.Moreover,the offer by Beaufort and his associates to Malefort of anyboon he may desire as a recompense for his service, and his acceptanceof it, correspond strikingly inboth conduct and language with theconferring of a like favor upon Rochfort by the Court (I, ii, 258ff.); while the request which Malefort prefers, that his daughterbemarried to Beaufort Junior, and the language with which that young manacknowledges this meets his own dearest wish, bear a no less patentresemblance tothe bestowal of Beaumelle upon Charalois (II, ii,284-297). Now this last parallel is significant, because _The UnnaturalCombat_ is an unaided production ofMassinger, while the analogue in_The Fatal Dowry_ occurs in a scene that is by the hand of Field. Thesimilarity may, of course, be only an accident, butpresumably it isnot. Then did Field borrow from Massinger, or did Massinger from Field?The most plausible theory is that _The Unnatural Combat_ waswrittenimmediately after _The Fatal Dowry_, when Massingerâs mind was sosaturated with the contents of the tragedy just laid aside that he wasliable toecho in the new drama the expressions and import of lines inthe old, whether by himself or his collaborator. That at any rate thechronological relationship of thetwo plays is one of juxtaposition isfurther attested by the fact that in minor parallelisms,[4] too, to_The Fatal Dowry_, _The Unnatural Combat_ is richer than anyother workof Massinger.Unfortunately _The Unnatural Combat_ is itself another play of whosedate no more can be said with assurance than that it preceeds theentryof Sir Henry Herbert into office in 1623, though its crude horrors,its ghost, etc., suggest moreover that it is its authorâs initialindependent venture in thefield of tragedy, his _Titus Andronicus_, anill-advised attempt to produce something after the âgrand mannerâ ofhalf a generation back. Next in closenessto _The Fatal Dowry_ amongthe works of Massinger as regards the number of its reminiscences ofphraseology stands his share of _The Virgin Martyr_; next inclosenessas regards the _strikingness_ of these parallels stands his share of_The Little French Lawyer_. These two plays can be dated _circa_1620.       *       *       *       *       *To sum up:_The Fatal Dowry_ appears to antedate the installation of Sir HenryHerbert in 1623.It was probably written whileField was with the Kingâs Men; with whomhe became associated in 1616, and whom he probably quitted in 1619.The indications point to its compositionduring the latter part of thisthree-year period (1616-19), for it yields more and closer parallelsto _The Virgin Martyr_ and _The Little French Lawyer_, datedabout1620, than to _The Knight of Malta_ and _The Queen of Corinth_, dated1617-8,--closer, indeed, than to any work of Massinger save one, _TheUnnaturalCombat_, itself an undated but evidently early play, withwhich its relationship is clearly of the most intimate variety.       *       *       *       *       *The following


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sorrows of Satan, by Marie CorelliThis 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 Sorrows of Satan       or, The Strange Experience of One Geoffrey Tempest,       Millionaire, A RomanceAuthor: Marie CorelliReleaseDate: March 14, 2013 [EBook #42332]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SORROWS OF SATAN ***Produced by JulieBarkley, David Wilson and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.netTHE SORROWS OF SATANORTHE STRANGE EXPERIENCE OFONEGEOFFREY TEMPEST, MILLIONAIREA ROMANCEBY MARIE CORELLIMETHUEN & CO. LTD., LONDON_36 Essex Street W.C._ _FirstPublished                                    November 1895  Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh,      Eighth, Ninth, TenthEditions                           1895  Eleventh, Twelfth, Thirteenth, Fourteenth, Fifteenth,      Sixteenth, Seventeenth, Eighteenth, Nineteenth,      Twentieth,Twenty-first, Twenty-second, Twenty-third,      Twenty-fourth, Twenty-fifth, Twenty-sixth,      Twenty-seventh, Twenty-eighth, Twenty-ninth,      Thirtieth,Thirty-first, Thirty-second Editions         1896  Thirty-third, Thirty-fourth, Thirty-fifth,Thirty-sixth      Editions                                                1897  Thirty-seventh, Thirty-eighth,Thirty-ninth      Editions                                                1898  Fortieth and Forty-first Editions                           1899  Forty-secondEdition                                        1900  Forty-third and Forty-fourth Editions                       1901  Forty-fifth and Forty-sixthEditions                        1902  Forty-seventh Edition                                       1903  Forty-eighth Edition                                        1904  Forty-ninth andFiftieth Editions                           1905  Fifty-first Edition                                         1906  Fifty-second and Fifty-third Editions                       1907  Fifty-fourthEdition                                        1908  Fifty-fifth Edition                                         1909  Fifty-sixth Edition                                         1910  Fifty-seventhEdition                                       1911  Fifty-eighth Edition                                        1913  Fifty-ninth Edition                                         1914  SixtiethEdition                                            1916  Sixty-first Edition                                         1917  Sixty-second and Sixty-thirdEditions                       1918  Sixty-fourth Edition                                        1920  Sixty-fifth Edition (Cheap Edition)                         1920  Sixty-sixthEdition    "      "                             1922  Sixty-seventh Edition  "      "                             1931  Sixty-eighthEdition   "      "                             1936                            Reprinted, 1952_68.2CATALOGUE NO. 2075/VPRINTED IN GREAT BRITAINTHE SORROWS OFSATANIDo you know what it is to be poor? Not poor with the arrogant povertycomplained of by certain people who have five or six thousand a year tolive upon,and who yet swear they can hardly manage to make both endsmeet, but really poor,--downright, cruelly, hideously poor, with apoverty that is graceless, sordidand miserable? Poverty that compelsyou to dress in your one suit of clothes till it is wornthreadbare,--that denies you clean linen on account of theruinouscharges of washerwomen,--that robs you of your own self-respect, andcauses you to slink along the streets vaguely abashed, instead ofwalking erectamong your fellow-men in independent ease,--this is thesort of poverty I mean. This is the grinding curse that keeps down nobleaspiration under a load of ignoblecare; this is the moral cancer thateats into the heart of an otherwise well-intentioned human creature andmakes him envious and malignant, and inclined to theuse of dynamite.When he sees the fat idle woman of society passing by in her luxuriouscarriage, lolling back lazily, her face mottled with the purple and redsignsof superfluous eating,--when he observes the brainless and sensualman of fashion smoking and dawdling away the hours in the Park, as ifall the world and itsmillions of honest hard workers were createdsolely for the casual diversion of the so-called 'upper' classes,--thenthe good blood in him turns to gall, and hissuffering spirit rises infierce rebellion, crying out--"Why in God's name, should this injusticebe? Why should a worthless lounger have his pockets full of gold bymerechance and heritage, while I, toiling wearily from morn till midnight,can scarce afford myself a satisfying meal?"Why indeed! Why should the wicked flourishlike a green bay-tree? I haveoften thought about it. Now however I believe I could help to solve theproblem out of my own personal experience. But ... such anexperience!Who will credit it? Who will believe that anything so strange andterrific ever chanced to the lot of a mortal man? No one. Yet it istrue;--truer thanmuch so-called truth. Moreover I know that many menare living through many such incidents as have occurred to me, underprecisely the same influence,conscious perhaps at times, that they arein the tangles of sin, but too weak of will to break the net in whichthey have become voluntarily imprisoned. Will they betaught, I wonder,the lesson I have learned? In the same bitter school, under the sameformidable taskmaster? Will they realize as I have been forced todo,--aye,to the very fibres of my intellectual perception,--the vast,individual, active Mind, which behind all matter, works unceasingly,though silently, a very eternal andpositive God? If so, then darkproblems will become clear to them, and what seems injustice in theworld will prove pure equity! But I do not write with any hope ofeitherpersuading or enlightening my fellow-men. I know their obstinacy toowell;--I can gauge it by my own. My proud belief in myself was, at onetime, not to beoutdone by any human unit on the face of the globe. AndI am aware that others are in similar case. I merely intend to relatethe various incidents of my career indue order exactly as theyhappened,--leaving to more confident heads the business of propoundingand answering the riddles of human existence as best theymay.During a certain bitter winter, long remembered for its arctic severity,when a great wave of intense cold spread freezing influences not aloneover the happyisles of Britain, but throughout all Europe, I, GeoffreyTempest, was alone in London and well-nigh starving. Now a starving manseldom gets the sympathy hemerits,--so few can be persuaded to believein him. Worthy folks who have just fed to repletion are the mostincredulous, some of them being even moved to smilewhen told ofexisting hungry people, much as if these were occasional jests inventedfor after-dinner amusement. Or, with that irritating vagueness ofattentionwhich characterizes fashionable folk to such an extent thatwhen asking a question they neither wait for the answer nor understandit when given, the well-dinedgroups, hearing of some one starved todeath, will idly murmur 'How dreadful!' and at once turn to thediscussion of the latest 'fad' for killing time, ere it takes tokillingthem with sheer _ennui_. The pronounced fact of being hungry soundscoarse and common, and is not a topic for polite society, which alwayseats more thansufficient for its needs. At the period I am speaking ofhowever, I, who have since been one of the most envied of men, knew thecruel meaning of the wordhunger, too well,--the gnawing pain, the sickfaintness, the deadly stupor, the insatiable animal craving for merefood, all of which sensations are frightful enoughto those who are,unhappily, daily inured to them, but which when they afflict one who hasbeen tenderly reared and brought up to consider himselfa'gentleman,'--God save the mark! are perhaps still more painful to bear.And I felt that I had not deserved to suffer the wretchedness in which Ifound myself. Ihad worked hard. From the time my father died, leavingme to discover that every penny of the fortune I imagined he possessedwas due to swarming creditors,and that nothing of all our house andestate was left to me except a jewelled miniature of my mother who hadlost her own life in giving me birth,--from that time Isay, I had putmy shoulder to the wheel and toiled late and early. I had turned myUniversity education to the only use for which it or I seemedfitted,--literature. Ihad sought for employment on almost every journalin London,--refused by many, taken on trial by some, but getting steadypay from none. Whoever seeks to liveby brain and pen alone is, at thebeginning of such a career, treated as a sort of social pariah. Nobodywants him,--everybody despises him. His efforts are derided,hismanuscripts are flung back to him unread, and he is less cared for thanthe condemned murderer in gaol. The murderer is at least fed andclothed,--a worthyclergyman visits him, and his gaoler willoccasionally condescend to play cards with him. But a man gifted withoriginal thoughts and the power of expressing them,appears to beregarded by everyone in authority as much worse than the worst criminal,and all the 'jacks-in-office' unite to kick him to death if they can. Itookboth kicks and blows in sullen silence and lived on,--not for thelove of life, but simply because I scorned the cowardice ofself-destruction. I was young enough notto part with hope tooeasily;--the vague idea I had that my turn would come,--that theever-circling wheel of Fortune would perchance lift me up some day asitnow crushed me down, kept me just wearily capable of continuingexistence,--though it was merely a continuance and no more. For aboutsix months I got somereviewing work on a well-known literary journal.Thirty novels a week were sent to me to 'criticise,'--I made a habit ofglancing hastily at about eight or ten ofthem, and writing one columnof rattling abuse concerning these thus casually selected,--theremainder were never noticed at all. I found that this mode ofactionwas considered 'smart,' and I managed for a time to please my editor whopaid me the munificent sum of fifteen shillings for my weekly labour.But on onefatal occasion I happened to change my tactics and warmlypraised a work which my own conscience told me was both original andexcellent. The author of ithappened to be an old enemy of theproprietor of the journal on which I was employed;--my eulogistic reviewof the hated individual, unfortunately for me,appeared, with the resultthat private spite outweighed public justice, and I was immediatelydismissed.After this I dragged on in a sufficiently miserable way,doing 'hackwork' for the dailies, and living on promises that never becamerealities, till, as I have said, in the early January of the bitterwinter alluded to, I foundmyself literally penniless and face to facewith starvation, owing a month's rent besides for the poor lodging Ioccupied in a back street not far from the BritishMuseum. I had beenout all day trudging from one newspaper office to another, seeking forwork and finding none. Every available post was filled. I had alsotried,


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                             THE ADJUSTMENT BUREAU                                  Written by                                 GeorgeNolfi                           Based on a short story by                                 Philip K Dick           BLACK SCREEN          The sounds of a large crowd, butmuffled, as if we're inside,          and hearing the crowd through a window or door. FADE IN ON:          INT. SOME SORT OF LOBBY -- DAY          DAVIDNORRIS, 33, is having a private moment, looking down,          thinking. He wears a suit and tie. He seems relaxed and          confident. Content. Completely inhis element.          In one of his hands he's absentmindedly twirling a couple of          individually-wrapped Ricola throat lozenges. We hear the          muffledvoice of someone on a PA system outside:          VOICE ON PA SYSTEM          Thank you so much for coming today--          A man in a BLUE BLAZERwalks up to David.                         BLUE BLAZER          Congressman Norris-?          Now REVEAL that we're Â±fl: the entry hall of the AdminBuilding          at St. Johns University. A thousand people crowd the quad          out front. "Norris for Senate" placardseverywhere.                         BLUE-BLAZER          Fred O'Malley with the DNC. I've          never seen a crowd this big turn          out so early in thecycle.          CHARLIE TRAYNOR, 36, arrives--.                         CHARLIE          Just wait 'till you see how they          respond to him..          David pops


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                                    THOR                                 Written by                         Ashley Miller & Zack Stentz           FADEIN:          On the blackness of SPACE, beautiful and mysterious, strewn          with a billion stars.          Atop a building, a wrought-iron sign -- aHAMMER-WIELDING          BLACKSMITH -- spins listlessly in the wind as a swirling          breeze kicks up. A hint of what's to come.          1 EXT. PUENTEANTIGUO, NEW MEXICO - NIGHT 1          A main street extends before us in this one-horse town, set          amid endless flat, arid scrubland. A large SUVslowly moves          down the street and heads out of town.          2 EXT. SUV - NIGHT 2          The SUV sits parked in the desert. Suddenly, the roofpanels          of the SUV FOLD OPEN. The underside of the panels house a          variety of hand-built ASTRONOMICAL DEVICES, which now point          at thesky.          JANE FOSTER (late 20's) pops her head through the roof. She          positions a MAGNETOMETER, so its monitor calibrates withthe          constellations above. It appears to be cobbled together from          spare parts of other devices.                         JANE          Hurry!          Wehear a loud BANG followed by muffled CURSING from below.          Jane offers a hand down to ERIK SELVIG (60) who emerges as          well, rubbing hishead.          JANE (CONT'D)          Oh-- watch your head.                         SELVIG          Thanks. So what's this "anomaly"          of yourssupposed to look like?                         JANE          It's a little different each time.          Once it looked like, I don't know,          melted stars, pooling in


ï»¿Project Gutenberg's Wieland; or The Transformation, by Charles Brockden BrownThis 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: Wieland; or The Transformation       An American TaleAuthor: Charles Brockden BrownPosting Date: August 7, 2008 [EBook#792]Release Date: January, 1997Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIELAND; OR THE TRANSFORMATION ***WIELAND; ORTHE TRANSFORMATIONAn American Taleby Charles Brockden Brown          From Virtue's blissful paths away          The double-tongued are sure tostray;          Good is a forth-right journey still,          And mazy paths but lead to ill.Advertisement.The following Work is delivered to the world as the first of aseriesof performances, which the favorable reception of this will induce theWriter to publish. His purpose is neither selfish nor temporary,but aims at theillustration of some important branches of the moralconstitution of man. Whether this tale will be classed with the ordinaryor frivolous sources of amusement, orbe ranked with the few productionswhose usefulness secures to them a lasting reputation, the reader mustbe permitted to decide.The incidents related areextraordinary and rare. Some of them, perhaps,approach as nearly to the nature of miracles as can be done by thatwhich is not truly miraculous. It is hoped thatintelligent readers willnot disapprove of the manner in which appearances are solved, but thatthe solution will be found to correspond with the known principlesofhuman nature. The power which the principal person is said to possesscan scarcely be denied to be real. It must be acknowledged to beextremely rare; but nofact, equally uncommon, is supported by the samestrength of historical evidence.Some readers may think the conduct of the younger Wieland impossible.Insupport of its possibility the Writer must appeal to Physicians and tomen conversant with the latent springs and occasional perversions ofthe human mind. Itwill not be objected that the instances of similardelusion are rare, because it is the business of moral painters toexhibit their subject in its most instructive andmemorable forms. Ifhistory furnishes one parallel fact, it is a sufficient vindication ofthe Writer; but most readers will probably recollect an authenticcase,remarkably similar to that of Wieland.It will be necessary to add, that this narrative is addressed, in anepistolary form, by the Lady whose story it contains,to a smallnumber of friends, whose curiosity, with regard to it, had been greatlyawakened. It may likewise be mentioned, that these events tookplace betweenthe conclusion of the French and the beginning of therevolutionary war. The memoirs of Carwin, alluded to at the conclusionof the work, will be published orsuppressed according to the receptionwhich is given to the present attempt.C. B. B. September 3, 1798.Chapter II feel little reluctance in complying with yourrequest. You know notfully the cause of my sorrows. You are a stranger to the depth of mydistresses. Hence your efforts at consolation must necessarily fail.Yetthe tale that I am going to tell is not intended as a claim upon yoursympathy. In the midst of my despair, I do not disdain to contributewhat little I can to thebenefit of mankind. I acknowledge your right tobe informed of the events that have lately happened in my family. Makewhat use of the tale you shall thinkproper. If it be communicatedto the world, it will inculcate the duty of avoiding deceit. It willexemplify the force of early impressions, and show theimmeasurableevils that flow from an erroneous or imperfect discipline.My state is not destitute of tranquillity. The sentiment that dictatesmy feelings is not hope.Futurity has no power over my thoughts. To allthat is to come I am perfectly indifferent. With regard to myself, Ihave nothing more to fear. Fate has done itsworst. Henceforth, I amcallous to misfortune.I address no supplication to the Deity. The power that governs thecourse of human affairs has chosen his path. Thedecree that ascertainedthe condition of my life, admits of no recal. No doubt it squares withthe maxims of eternal equity. That is neither to be questionednordenied by me. It suffices that the past is exempt from mutation. Thestorm that tore up our happiness, and changed into dreariness and desertthe bloomingscene of our existence, is lulled into grim repose; butnot until the victim was transfixed and mangled; till every obstacle wasdissipated by its rage; till everyremnant of good was wrested from ourgrasp and exterminated.How will your wonder, and that of your companions, be excited by mystory! Every sentiment willyield to your amazement. If my testimonywere without corroborations, you would reject it as incredible. Theexperience of no human being can furnish a parallel:That I, beyond therest of mankind, should be reserved for a destiny without alleviation,and without example! Listen to my narrative, and then say what it isthathas made me deserve to be placed on this dreadful eminence, if,indeed, every faculty be not suspended in wonder that I am still alive,and am able to relate it. Myfather's ancestry was noble on the paternalside; but his mother was the daughter of a merchant. My grand-father wasa younger brother, and a native of Saxony.He was placed, when he hadreached the suitable age, at a German college. During the vacations,he employed himself in traversing the neighbouring territory. Ononeoccasion it was his fortune to visit Hamburg. He formed an acquaintancewith Leonard Weise, a merchant of that city, and was a frequent guestat his house.The merchant had an only daughter, for whom his guestspeedily contracted an affection; and, in spite of parental menaces andprohibitions, he, in due season,became her husband.By this act he mortally offended his relations. Thenceforward he wasentirely disowned and rejected by them. They refused to contributeanything to his support. All intercourse ceased, and he received from themmerely that treatment to which an absolute stranger, or detested enemy,would beentitled.He found an asylum in the house of his new father, whose temper waskind, and whose pride was flattered by this alliance. The nobility ofhis birth was putin the balance against his poverty. Weise conceivedhimself, on the whole, to have acted with the highest discretion, inthus disposing of his child. My grand-fatherfound it incumbent on himto search out some mode of independent subsistence. His youth hadbeen eagerly devoted to literature and music. These had hithertobeencultivated merely as sources of amusement. They were now converted intothe means of gain. At this period there were few works of taste inthe Saxondialect. My ancestor may be considered as the founder of theGerman Theatre. The modern poet of the same name is sprung from the samefamily, and, perhaps,surpasses but little, in the fruitfulness of hisinvention, or the soundness of his taste, the elder Wieland. His lifewas spent in the composition of sonatas anddramatic pieces. They werenot unpopular, but merely afforded him a scanty subsistence. He diedin the bloom of his life, and was quickly followed to the grave byhiswife. Their only child was taken under the protection of the merchant.At an early age he was apprenticed to a London trader, and passed sevenyears ofmercantile servitude.My father was not fortunate in the character of him under whose carehe was now placed. He was treated with rigor, and full employmentwasprovided for every hour of his time. His duties were laborious andmechanical. He had been educated with a view to this profession, and,therefore, was nottormented with unsatisfied desires. He did not holdhis present occupations in abhorrence, because they withheld him frompaths more flowery and more smooth,but he found in unintermittedlabour, and in the sternness of his master, sufficient occasions fordiscontent. No opportunities of recreation were allowed him. Hespentall his time pent up in a gloomy apartment, or traversing narrow andcrowded streets. His food was coarse, and his lodging humble. His heartgraduallycontracted a habit of morose and gloomy reflection. He couldnot accurately define what was wanting to his happiness. He was nottortured by comparisons drawnbetween his own situation and thatof others. His state was such as suited his age and his views as tofortune. He did not imagine himself treated withextraordinary orunjustifiable rigor. In this respect he supposed the condition ofothers, bound like himself to mercantile service, to resemble his own;yet everyengagement was irksome, and every hour tedious in its lapse.In this state of mind he chanced to light upon a book written by one ofthe teachers of theAlbigenses, or French Protestants. He entertained norelish for books, and was wholly unconscious of any power they possessedto delight or instruct. This volumehad lain for years in a corner ofhis garret, half buried in dust and rubbish. He had marked it as it lay;had thrown it, as his occasions required, from one spot toanother; buthad felt no inclination to examine its contents, or even to inquire whatwas the subject of which it treated.One Sunday afternoon, being induced toretire for a few minutes to hisgarret, his eye was attracted by a page of this book, which, by someaccident, had been opened and placed full in his view. He wasseated onthe edge of his bed, and was employed in repairing a rent in some partof his clothes. His eyes were not confined to his work, but occasionallywandering,lighted at length upon the page. The words "Seek and yeshall find," were those that first offered themselves to his notice.His curiosity was roused by these so faras to prompt him to proceed.As soon as he finished his work, he took up the book and turned tothe first page. The further he read, the more inducement he foundtocontinue, and he regretted the decline of the light which obliged himfor the present to close it.The book contained an exposition of the doctrine of the sectofCamissards, and an historical account of its origin. His mind was in astate peculiarly fitted for the reception of devotional sentiments. Thecraving which hadhaunted him was now supplied with an object. His mindwas at no loss for a theme of meditation. On days of business, he roseat the dawn, and retired to hischamber not till late at night. He nowsupplied himself with candles, and employed his nocturnal and Sundayhours in studying this book. It, of course, aboundedwith allusions tothe Bible. All its conclusions were deduced from the sacred text. Thiswas the fountain, beyond which it was unnecessary to trace the streamofreligious truth; but it was his duty to trace it thus far.A Bible was easily procured, and he ardently entered on the study of it.His understanding had received aparticular direction. All his reverieswere fashioned in the same mould. His progress towards the formation ofhis creed was rapid. Every fact and sentiment in thisbook were viewedthrough a medium which the writings of the Camissard apostle hadsuggested. His constructions of the text were hasty, and formed on anarrowscale. Every thing was viewed in a disconnected position. Oneaction and one precept were not employed to illustrate and restrictthe meaning of another. Hence


ï»¿Project Gutenberg's The History of the Peloponnesian War, by ThucydidesThis 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: The History of the Peloponnesian WarAuthor: ThucydidesTranslator: Richard CrawleyRelease Date: December, 2004 [EBook#7142]Posting Date: May 1, 2009Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PELOPONNESIAN WAR ***Produced by Albert ImrieTHEHISTORY OF THE PELOPONNESIAN WARBy Thucydides 431 BCTranslated by Richard Crawley     With Permission           to     CONNOP THIRLWALL     Historian ofGreece     This Translation of the Work of His     Great Predecessor     is Respectfully Inscribed     by --The Translator--CONTENTS     BOOK I     CHAPTER I     Thestate of Greece from the earliest Times to the     Commencement of the Peloponnesian War     CHAPTER II     Causes of the War--The Affair ofEpidamnus--     The Affair of Potidaea     CHAPTER III     Congress of the Peloponnesian Confederacy at     Lacedaemon     CHAPTER IV     From the End of thePersian to the Beginning of     the Peloponnesian War--The Progress from     Supremacy to Empire     CHAPTER V     Second Congress atLacedaemon--Preparations for     War and Diplomatic Skirmishes--Cylon--     Pausanias--Themistocles     BOOK II     CHAPTER VI     Beginning of thePeloponnesian War--First     Invasion of Attica--Funeral Oration of Pericles     CHAPTER VII     Second Year of the War--The Plague of Athens--     Position andPolicy of Pericles--Fall of Potidaea     CHAPTER VIII     Third Year of the War--Investment of Plataea--     Naval Victories of Phormio--Thracian Irruption     intoMacedonia under Sitalces     BOOK III     CHAPTER IX     Fourth and Fifth Years of the War--Revolt of     Mitylene     CHAPTER X     Fifth Year of the War--Trial andExecution of the     Plataeans--Corcyraean Revolution     CHAPTER XI     Sixth Year of the War--Campaigns of Demosthenes     in Western Greece--Ruin ofAmbracia     BOOK IV     CHAPTER XII     Seventh Year of the War--Occupation of pylos--     Surrender of the Spartan Army in Sphacteria     CHAPTERXIII     Seventh and Eighth Years of the War--End of     Corcyraean Revolution--Peace of Gela--     Capture of Nisaea     CHAPTER XIV     Eighth and Ninth Yearsof the War--Invasion of     Boeotia--Fall of Amphipolis--Brilliant Successes     of Brasidas     BOOK V     CHAPTER XV     Tenth Year of the War--Death of Cleonand     Brasidas--Peace of Nicias     CHAPTER XVI     Feeling against Sparta in Peloponnese--League     of the Mantineans, Eleans, Argives,and     Athenians--Battle of Mantinea and breaking up of     the League     CHAPTER XVII     Sixteenth Year of the War--The Melian     Conference--Fate ofMelos     BOOK VI     CHAPTER XVIII     Seventeenth Year of the War--The Sicilian     Campaign--Affair of the Hermae--Departure ofthe     Expedition     CHAPTER XIX     Seventeenth Year of the War--Parties at Syracuse--     Story of Harmodius and Aristogiton--     Disgrace ofAlcibiades     CHAPTER XX     Seventeenth and Eighteenth Years of the War--     Inaction of the Athenian Army--Alcibiades at     Sparta--Investment ofSyracuse     BOOK VII     CHAPTER XXI     Eighteenth and Nineteenth Years of the War--     Arrival of Gylippus at Syracuse--Fortification     of Decelea--Successesof the Syracusans     CHAPTER XXII     Nineteenth Year of the War--Arrival of     Demosthenes--Defeat of the Athenians at Epipolae--     Folly and Obstinacy ofNicias     CHAPTER XXIII     Nineteenth Year of the War--Battles in the Great     Harbour--Retreat and Annihilation of the     Athenian Army     BOOKVIII     CHAPTER XXIV     Nineteenth and Twentieth Years of the War--     Revolt of Ionia--Intervention of Persia--The     War in Ionia     CHAPTERXXV     Twentieth and Twenty-first Years of the War--     Intrigues of Alcibiades--Withdrawal of the     Persian Subsidies--Oligarchical Coup d'Etat     atAthens--Patriotism of the Army at Samos     CHAPTER XXVI     Twenty first Year of the War--Recall of     Alcibiades to Samos--Revolt of Euboea and     Downfallof the Four Hundred--Battle of CynossemaBOOK ICHAPTER I_The State of Greece from the earliest Times to the Commencement of thePeloponnesianWar_Thucydides, an Athenian, wrote the history of the war between thePeloponnesians and the Athenians, beginning at the moment that it brokeout, andbelieving that it would be a great war and more worthy ofrelation than any that had preceded it. This belief was not withoutits grounds. The preparations of boththe combatants were in everydepartment in the last state of perfection; and he could see the rest ofthe Hellenic race taking sides in the quarrel; those whodelayed doingso at once having it in contemplation. Indeed this was the greatestmovement yet known in history, not only of the Hellenes, but of a largepart ofthe barbarian world--I had almost said of mankind. For thoughthe events of remote antiquity, and even those that more immediatelypreceded the war, could notfrom lapse of time be clearly ascertained,yet the evidences which an inquiry carried as far back as waspracticable leads me to trust, all point to the conclusionthat therewas nothing on a great scale, either in war or in other matters.For instance, it is evident that the country now called Hellas had inancient times nosettled population; on the contrary, migrations were offrequent occurrence, the several tribes readily abandoning their homesunder the pressure of superiornumbers. Without commerce, withoutfreedom of communication either by land or sea, cultivating no moreof their territory than the exigencies of life required,destitute ofcapital, never planting their land (for they could not tell when aninvader might not come and take it all away, and when he did comethey had no wallsto stop him), thinking that the necessities of dailysustenance could be supplied at one place as well as another, they caredlittle for shifting their habitation, andconsequently neither builtlarge cities nor attained to any other form of greatness. The richestsoils were always most subject to this change of masters; such asthedistrict now called Thessaly, Boeotia, most of the Peloponnese, Arcadiaexcepted, and the most fertile parts of the rest of Hellas. The goodnessof the landfavoured the aggrandizement of particular individuals, andthus created faction which proved a fertile source of ruin. It alsoinvited invasion. Accordingly Attica,from the poverty of its soilenjoying from a very remote period freedom from faction, never changedits inhabitants. And here is no inconsiderable exemplificationofmy assertion that the migrations were the cause of there being nocorrespondent growth in other parts. The most powerful victims of war orfaction from the restof Hellas took refuge with the Athenians as asafe retreat; and at an early period, becoming naturalized, swelled thealready large population of the city to such aheight that Attica becameat last too small to hold them, and they had to send out colonies toIonia.There is also another circumstance that contributes not a littleto myconviction of the weakness of ancient times. Before the Trojan warthere is no indication of any common action in Hellas, nor indeed of theuniversalprevalence of the name; on the contrary, before the time ofHellen, son of Deucalion, no such appellation existed, but the countrywent by the names of thedifferent tribes, in particular of thePelasgian. It was not till Hellen and his sons grew strong in Phthiotis,and were invited as allies into the other cities, that one byone theygradually acquired from the connection the name of Hellenes; though along time elapsed before that name could fasten itself upon all. Thebest proof ofthis is furnished by Homer. Born long after the TrojanWar, he nowhere calls all of them by that name, nor indeed any of themexcept the followers of Achilles fromPhthiotis, who were the originalHellenes: in his poems they are called Danaans, Argives, and Achaeans.He does not even use the term barbarian, probablybecause theHellenes had not yet been marked off from the rest of the world by onedistinctive appellation. It appears therefore that the severalHelleniccommunities, comprising not only those who first acquired the name,city by city, as they came to understand each other, but also those whoassumed itafterwards as the name of the whole people, were before theTrojan war prevented by their want of strength and the absence of mutualintercourse from displayingany collective action.Indeed, they could not unite for this expedition till they had gainedincreased familiarity with the sea. And the first person known to usbytradition as having established a navy is Minos. He made himself masterof what is now called the Hellenic sea, and ruled over the Cyclades,into most of whichhe sent the first colonies, expelling the Cariansand appointing his own sons governors; and thus did his best to put downpiracy in those waters, a necessary stepto secure the revenues for hisown use.For in early times the Hellenes and the barbarians of the coast andislands, as communication by sea became morecommon, were tempted toturn pirates, under the conduct of their most powerful men; the motivesbeing to serve their own cupidity and to support the needy.Theywould fall upon a town unprotected by walls, and consisting of a merecollection of villages, and would plunder it; indeed, this came to bethe main source oftheir livelihood, no disgrace being yet attached tosuch an achievement, but even some glory. An illustration of thisis furnished by the honour with which some ofthe inhabitants of thecontinent still regard a successful marauder, and by the question wefind the old poets everywhere representing the people as askingofvoyagers--"Are they pirates?"--as if those who are asked the questionwould have no idea of disclaiming the imputation, or their interrogatorsof reproachingthem for it. The same rapine prevailed also by land.And even at the present day many of Hellas still follow the old fashion,the Ozolian Locrians for instance, theAetolians, the Acarnanians, andthat region of the continent; and the custom of carrying arms is stillkept up among these continentals, from the old piraticalhabits.The whole of Hellas used once to carry arms, their habitations beingunprotected and their communication with each other unsafe; indeed,to wear arms wasas much a part of everyday life with them as with thebarbarians. And the fact that the people in these parts of Hellas arestill living in the old way points to a timewhen the same mode of lifewas once equally common to all. The Athenians were the first to layaside their weapons, and to adopt an easier and more luxuriousmode oflife; indeed, it is only lately that their rich old men left off theluxury of wearing undergarments of linen, and fastening a knot of theirhair with a tie ofgolden grasshoppers, a fashion which spread totheir Ionian kindred and long prevailed among the old men there. On thecontrary, a modest style of dressing,more in conformity with modernideas, was first adopted by the Lacedaemonians, the rich doing theirbest to assimilate their way of life to that of the common