work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
4177,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-21 16:03:56 UTC,"MARCUS.
Thou best of Brothers, and thou best of Friends!
Pardon a weak distemper'd Soul, that swells
With sudden Gusts, and sinks as soon in Calms,
The Sport of Passions--But Sempronius comes:
He must not find this Softness hanging on me.
(I.i, p. 4)",,21913,"","""Pardon a weak distemper'd Soul, that swells / With sudden Gusts, and sinks as soon in Calms, / The Sport of Passions.""","",2013-07-21 16:03:56 UTC,"Act I, scene i"
4177,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-21 16:06:41 UTC,"MARCIA.
Alas poor Youth! how can'st thou throw him from thee?
Lucia, thou know'st not half the Love he bears thee;
Whene'er he speaks of thee, his Heart's in Flames,
He sends out all his Soul in ev'ry Word,
And thinks, and talks, and looks like one transported.
Unhappy Youth! how will thy Coldness raise
Tempests and Storms in his afflicted Bosom!
I dread the Consequence--
(I.iv, p. 15)",,21916,"","""Unhappy Youth! how will thy Coldness raise / Tempests and Storms in his afflicted Bosom! / I dread the Consequence.""","",2013-07-21 16:06:41 UTC,"Act I, scene iv"
4177,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-21 16:09:14 UTC,"PORTIUS.
Oh, Lucia, Language is too faint to show
His Rage of Love; it prey's upon his Life;
He pines, he sickens, he despairs, he dies:
His Passions and his Virtues lie confused,
And mixt together in so wild a Tumult,
That the whole Man is quite disfigur'd in him.
Heav'ns! wou'd one think 'twere possible for Love
To make such Ravage in a noble Soul!
Oh, Lucia, I'm distress'd! my Heart bleeds for him;
Ev'n now, while thus I stand blest in thy Presence,
A secret Damp of Grief comes o'er my Thoughts,
And I'm unhappy, tho' thou smilest upon me.
(III.i, p. 35)",,21919,"","""Ev'n now, while thus I stand blest in thy Presence, / A secret Damp of Grief comes o'er my Thoughts, / And I'm unhappy, tho' thou smilest upon me.""","",2013-07-21 16:09:14 UTC,"Act III, scene i"
4177,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-21 16:10:04 UTC,"PORTIUS.
To my Confusion, and Eternal Grief,
I must approve the Sentence that destroys me.
The Mist that hung about my Mind clear's up;
And now, athwart the Terrors that thy Vow
Has planted round thee, thou appear'st more fair,
More amiable, and risest in thy Charms.
Lovly'st of Women! Heav'n is in thy Soul,
Beauty and Virtue shine for ever round thee,
Bright'ning each other! Thou art all Divine!
(III.i, p. 37)",,21920,"","""The Mist that hung about my Mind clear's up; / And now, athwart the Terrors that thy Vow / Has planted round thee, thou appear'st more fair, / More amiable, and risest in thy Charms.""","",2013-07-21 16:10:04 UTC,"Act III, scene i"