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Page 25 - PAGE. Madam, there is a Lady in your hall, Who begs to be admitted to your presence. LADY. Is it not one of our invited friends? PAGE. No, far unlike to them; it is a stranger. LADY. How looks her countenance?
Page 36 - I'll tell thee all — but, oh ! thou wilt despise me. For in my breast a raging passion burns, To which thy soul no sympathy will own — A passion which hath made my nightly couch A place of torment, and the light of day, With the gay intercourse of social man, Feel like the' oppressive airless pestilence.
Page 42 - All do not think me like a May-day queen, Which peasants deck in sport. Ther. And who said this ? Lady, (putting her handkerchief to her eyes.) E'en my good lord, Theresa.
Page 14 - He is so full of pleasant anecdote, So rich, so gay, so poignant is his wit, Time vanishes before him as he speaks, And ruddy morning through the lattice peeps Ere night seems well begun.
Page 82 - I've done a deed — But I am human still. JANE. I know thy suff rings: leave thy sorrow free; Thou art with one who never did upbraid; Who mourns, who loves thee still. DE MON. Ah! say'st thou so? no, no; it should not be. (Shrinking from her.) I am a foul and bloody murderer, For such embrace unmeet. "O leave me! leave me! "Disgrace and public shame abide me now; "And all, alas! who do my kindred own "The direful portion share.
Page 14 - Thus, it is true, from the sad years of life We sometimes do short hours, yea minutes strike, Keen, blissful, bright, never to be forgotten; Which, thro' the dreary gloom of time o'erpast, Shine like fair sunny spots on a wild waste.
Page 83 - With thee I am; who were not so with thee? But, ah, my sister! short will be the term: Death's stroke will come, and in that state beyond, Where things unutterable wait the soul, New from its earthly tenement discharg'd, We shall be sever'd far.
Page 33 - From all participation of its thoughts My heart recoils : I pray thee be contented. 'Jane. What, must I, like a distant humble friend, Observe thy restless eye, and gait...
Page 67 - As tho' some heavy footstep follow'd me. I will advance no farther. Deep settled shadows rest across the path, And thickly-tangled boughs o'er-hang this spot. O that a tenfold gloom did cover it! That 'midst the murky darkness I might strike; As in the wild confusion of a dream, Things horrid, bloody, terrible, do pass, As tho' they pass'd not; nor impress the mind With the fix'd clearness of reality.