text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"LAT.
How quietly he rests! Oh that I could by watching him, hanging thus over him, and feeling all his Care, protract his Sleep!
Oh sleep! thou sweetest Gift of Heav'n to Man,
Still in thy downy Arms embrace my Friend,
Nor loose him from his inexistent Trance
To sense of Yesterday, and pain of Being;
In thee Oppressors sooth their angry Brow,
In thee th' oppress'd forget tyrannick Pow'r,
In thee--
The Wretch condemn'd is equal to his Judge,
And the sad Lover to his cruel Fair;
Nay, all the shining Glories Men pursue,
When thou art wanted, are but empty Noise;
Who then wou'd court the Pomp of guilty Power,
When the Mind sickens at the weary Shew,
And flies to temporary Death for Ease;
When half our Life's Cessation of our Being--
He wakes--
How do I pity that returning Life,
Which I cou'd hazard thousand Lives to save!
(V.v)",2011-05-31 03:37:59 UTC,"""Who then wou'd court the Pomp of guilty Power, / When the Mind sickens at the weary Shew, / And flies to temporary Death for Ease.""",2004-10-13 00:00:00 UTC,"Act V, scene v","",,"",•I've included twice: Death and Disease,Searching HDIS,10434,4029
"MISS MOLLY
As for my Part, I have but a few Days to be under her Tyranny--Nothing sure was so insipid as her Management of Children; Severity makes more Hypocrites than any Sort of Discipline; streight lacing the Body may make us good Shapes, but there's no streight lacing our Minds.
Love's Laws are known to all the Female Race.
And, tho' our Parents preach, will still take Place.
",2013-06-17 03:37:11 UTC,"""Severity makes more Hypocrites than any Sort of Discipline; streight lacing the Body may make us good Shapes, but there's no streight lacing our Minds.""",2005-04-25 00:00:00 UTC,Act III,Mind and Body,,"","",Searching HDIS (Drama),11229,4300
"SIR JOHN BEVIL
He is gone in a way but barely civil. But his great wealth and the merit of his only child, the heiress of it, are not to be lost for a little peevishness.
Enter Humphrey
Oh, Humphrey, you are come in a seasonable minute. I want to talk to thee and to tell thee that my head and heart are on the rack about my son.
(Act IV, scene ii, p. 262)",2009-09-14 19:35:44 UTC,"One's head and heart may be ""on the rack"" about something worrisome ",2003-07-22 00:00:00 UTC,Sir John Bevil worried that Sealand will call of the marriage and that his son will not be dutiful,"",,"","",Reading,11269,4321
"MOUR.
Is this the way to requite it? to leave you in my Room, my Benefactress behind me, expos'd, and insulted by a thousand Brutalities, that wou'd never attempt me? wou'd this be to repay you? wou'd this be to deliver me? to gall me with Reproaches and Contempt, more heavy, and corroding into my Soul, than the Load and Rust of my Irons eating into my Flesh? Wou'd this be to redeem me? to sink me into deeper Bondage, to send me into an unrepealable Captivity, where the Eye of Humanity wou'd abhor the Sight of me; a Monster of so vile an Ingratitude, that no Man was ever after to be believ'd or trusted, for my Baseness and Ingratitude, Unthankfulness to a Woman who has out-gone the gallant Examples of her Sex, in what she has suffered, and done, for her Constancy in Love: and is my deserting her to be my Return?",2009-09-14 19:36:02 UTC,"One may be galled ""with Reproaches and Contempt, more heavy, and corroding into my Soul, than the Load and Rust of my Irons eating into my Flesh? """,2005-06-08 00:00:00 UTC,"Act II, scene 2i","",,Fetters,•I've included twice: Irons and Corrosion
•I should use this as one of my metaphor paradigms.INTEREST.,Searching in HDIS (Drama),11578,4385
"ARVIDA.
Some Months are pass'd since in the Danish Dungeon
With Care emaciate, and unwholsome Damps
Sick'ning I lay, chain'd to my flinty Bed,
And call'd on Death to ease me--strait a Light
Shone round, as when the Ministry of Heav'n
Descends to kneeling Saints. But O! the Form
That pour'd upon my Sight--Ye Angels speak!
For ye alone are like her; or present
Such Visions pictur'd to the nightly Eye
Of Fancy trans'd in Bliss. She then approach'd,
The softest Pattern of embodied Meekness,
For Pity had divinely touch'd her Eye,
And harmoniz'd her Motions--Ah, she cry'd,
Unhappy Stranger, art not thou the Man
Whose Virtues have endear'd thee to Gustavus?
(p. 13)",2013-09-16 04:16:46 UTC,"""Ye Angels speak! / For ye alone are like her; or present / Such Visions pictur'd to the nightly Eye / Of Fancy trans'd in Bliss.""",2013-09-16 04:16:46 UTC,"","",,Eye,"",LION,22757,7675
"ARVIDA.
Do, rage and chafe, thy Wrath's beneath me, Cristiern.
How poor thy Pow'r, how empty is thy Happiness,
When such a Wretch, as I appear to be,
Can ride thy Temper, harrow up thy Form,
And stretch thy Soul upon the Rack of Passion.
(p. 18)",2013-09-16 04:18:13 UTC,"""How poor thy Pow'r, how empty is thy Happiness, / When such a Wretch, as I appear to be, / Can ride thy Temper, harrow up thy Form, / And stretch thy Soul upon the Rack of Passion.""",2013-09-16 04:18:13 UTC,"","",,"","",LION,22758,7675
"GUSTAVUS
No other I esteem it.
Where lives the Man whose Reason slumbers not?
Still pure, still blameless, if at wonted Dawn
Again he wakes to Virtue.
(p. 42)",2013-09-16 04:22:42 UTC,"""Where lives the Man whose Reason slumbers not?""",2013-09-16 04:22:42 UTC,"","",,"","",LION,22763,7675