United States or Lesotho ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I must own, my charming Philander, that my love is now arrived to that excess, that every thought which before but discompos'd me, now puts me into a violence of rage unbecoming my sex; or any thing but the mighty occasion of it, love, and which only had power to calm what it had before ruffled into a destructive storm: but like the anger'd sea, which pants and heaves, and retains still an uneasy motion long after the rude winds are appeas'd and hush'd to silence; my heart beats still, and heaves with the sensible remains of the late dangerous tempest of my mind, and nothing can absolutely calm me but the approach of the all-powerful Philander; though that thought possesses me with ten thousand fears, which I know will vanish all at thy appearance, and assume no more their dreadful shapes till thou art gone again: bring me then that kind cessation, bring me my Philander, and set me above the thoughts of cares, frights, or any other thoughts but those of tender love; haste then, thou charming object of my eternal wishes, and of my new desires; haste to my arms, my eyes, my soul, but oh, be wondrous careful there, do not betray the easy maid that trusts thee amidst all her sacred store.
Ah, that I could remain in this same state, And be contented with this Monarchy: I would, if my wild multitude of Passions Could be appeas'd with it; but they're for Liberty, And nothing but a Common-wealth within Will satisfy their appetites of Freedom. Alcander looks out at the door. Alcan. Who's there? Alcip. A Friend. Alcan. Peace, Isillia. Alcip. I hear a Man within open the door.
'Tis well; and Sister, Whilst I persuade Erminia to this flight, Make it your business to persuade the King, Hang on his neck, and kiss his willing cheek: Tell him how much you love him, and then smile, And mingle Words with Kisses; 'twill o'ercome him Thou hast a thousand pretty Flatteries, Which have appeas'd his highest fits of Passion: A Song from thee has won him to that rest, Which neither Toil nor Silence could dispose him to.
The Russie men are round of bodies, fully fac'd, The greatest part with bellies bigge that ouerhang the waste, Flat headed for the most, with faces nothing faire, But browne, by reason of the stone, and closenesse of the aire: It is their common vse to shaue or els to sheare Their heads, for none in all the land long lolling locks doth weare, Vnlsse perhaps he haue his souereigne prince displeas'd, For then he neuer cuts his haire, vntil he be appeas'd, A certaine signe to know who in displeasure be, For euery man that viewes his head, will say, Loe this is he.
Word Of The Day