text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"LAURA.
He says that, tho' he were not nobly born,
Nature has form'd him noble, generous, brave,
Truely magnanimous, and warmly scorning
Whatever bears the smallest Taint of Baseness:
That every easy Virtue is his own;
Not learnt by painful Labour, but inspir'd,
Implanted in his Soul--Chiefly one Charm
He in his graceful Character observes:
That tho' his Passions burn with high Impatience,
And sometimes, from a noble Heat of Nature,
Are ready to fly off, yet the least Check
Of ruling Reason brings them back to Temper,
And gentle Softness.
(I.i)",2013-06-28 14:25:01 UTC,"""He says that, tho' he were not nobly born, / Nature has form'd him noble, generous, brave, / Truely magnanimous, and warmly scorning / Whatever bears the smallest Taint of Baseness: / That every easy Virtue is his own; / Not learnt by painful Labour, but inspir'd, / Implanted in his Soul.""",2013-06-28 14:25:01 UTC,"","",,"","",Searching in C-H Lion,21236,7490
"SIFFREDI.
[After a pathetic Pause, looking on the Scene before him.]
Have I liv'd
To these enfeebled Years, by Heaven reserv'd,
To be a dreadful Monument of Justice?--
Rodolpho, raise the King, and bear him hence
From this distracting Scene of Blood and Death.
Alas! I dare not give him my Assistance;
My Care would only more enflame his Rage.
Behold the fatal Work of my dark Hand,
That by rude Force the Passions would command,
That ruthless sought to root them from the Breast;
They may be rul'd, but will not be opprest.
Taught hence, Ye Parents, who from Nature stray,
And the great Ties of social Life betray;
Ne'er with your Children act a Tyrant's Part:
'Tis your's to guide, not violate the Heart.
Ye vainly wise, who o'er Mankind preside,
Behold my righteous Woes, and drop your Pride!
Keep Virtue's simple Path before your Eyes,
Nor think from Evil Good can ever rise.
(V.viii)",2013-06-28 15:08:30 UTC,"""Behold the fatal Work of my dark Hand, / That by rude Force the Passions would command, / That ruthless sought to root them from the Breast; / They may be rul'd, but will not be opprest.""",2013-06-28 15:08:30 UTC,"Act V, scene viii","",,"","",C-H Lion,21264,7490
"LADY RANDOLPH.
Glenalvon 's false and crafty head will work
Against a rival in his kinsman's love,
If I deter him not: I only can.
Bold as he is, Glenalvon will beware
How he pulls down the fabric that I raise.
I'll be the artist of young Norval 's fortune.
'Tis pleasing to admire! most apt was I
To this affection in my better days;
Tho' now I seem to you shrunk up, retir'd
Within the narrow compass of my woe.
Have you not sometimes seen an early flower
Open its bud, and spread its silken leaves,
To catch sweet airs, and odours to bestow;
Then, by the keen blast nipt, pull in its leaves,
And, tho' still living, die to scent and beauty!
Emblem of me: affliction, like a storm,
Hath kill'd the forward blossom of my heart.
(Act II, p. 25)",2013-06-28 16:27:53 UTC,"""Have you not sometimes seen an early flower / Open its bud, and spread its silken leaves, / To catch sweet airs, and odours to bestow; / Then, by the keen blast nipt, pull in its leaves, / And, tho' still living, die to scent and beauty! / Emblem of me: affliction, like a storm, / Hath kill'd the forward blossom of my heart.""",2013-06-28 16:27:53 UTC,Act II,"",,"","",C-H Lion,21274,7492
"EPILOGUE.
An Epilogue I ask'd; but not one word
Our bard will write. He vows, 'tis most absurd
With comic wit to contradict the strain
Of tragedy, and make your sorrows vain.
Sadly he says, that pity is the best,
The noblest passion of the human breast:
For when its sacred streams the heart o'erflow,
In gushes pleasure with the tide of woe;
And when its waves retire, like those of Nile,
They leave behind them such a golden soil,
That there the virtues without culture grow,
There the sweet blossoms of affection blow.
These were his words:---void of delusive art
I felt them; for he spoke them from his heart.
Nor will I now attempt, with witty folly,
To chase away celestial melancholy.",2013-06-28 16:44:56 UTC,"""Sadly he says, that pity is the best, / The noblest passion of the human breast: / For when its sacred streams the heart o'erflow, / In gushes pleasure with the tide of woe; / And when its waves retire, like those of Nile, / They leave behind them such a golden soil, / That there the virtues without culture grow, / There the sweet blossoms of affection blow.""
",2013-06-28 16:44:56 UTC,Epilogue,"",,"","",C-H Lion,21288,7492