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It is the same at all times, whether it is moving with the scythe on the hill-slopes, or hewing the timber, or steering the raft down the river which is all effervescent with ice; whether it is drinking in the Gasthaus, or making love, or playing some mummer's part, or hating steadily and cruelly, or whether it is kneeling in spellbound subjection in the incense-filled church, or walking in the strange, dark, subject-procession to bless the fields, or cutting the young birch-trees for the feast of Frohenleichnam, it is always the same, the dark, powerful mystic, sensuous experience is the whole of him, he is mindless and bound within the absoluteness of the issue, the unchangeability of the great icy not-being which holds good for ever, and is supreme.
"Mamie she couldn't wear them 'ere." "So you haven't any flannel shirts?" Maria asked of Mamie. "I'm wearin' mummer's," said Mamie. "Mummer's they shrunk so she couldn't wear 'em, and Jessy couldn't nuther." "What is your mother wearing?" asked Maria. "Mr. John Dorsey he bought her some new ones," replied Mamie, and a light of evil intelligence came into the mean little face. "Who is Mr.
A fair share of reasons I am setting forth for this act of mine, every one of them valid, and the most valid of all my reason for choosing this book, A Mummer's Wife, to dedicate to you, is your own commendation of it the other night when you said to me that no book of mine in your opinion was more likely to 'live'! To live for five-and-twenty years is as long an immortality as anyone should set his heart on; for who would wish to be chattered about by the people that will live in these islands three hundred years hence?
Staunton, for such was this worthy clergyman's name, was laying aside his gown in the vestry, Jeanie was in the act of coming to an open rupture with Madge. "We must return to Mummer's barn directly," said Madge; "we'll be ower late, and my mother will be angry."
He was writing at that time A Mummer's Wife in his bedroom at the Shelbourne Hotel, and I thought how different were the two visions, A Mummer's Wife and A Drama in Muslin and how the choice of these two subjects revealed him to me. 'It was life that interested him rather than the envelope' I said.
They paid gallant court to Roger in his great chair by the fire and presently began to present for his approval an impromptu Mummer's play.
Look to thine own attire. Come, where hast put it?" Rebecca put her hands on her hips and looked into her sister's face with a stern determination. "Ef you think I'm agoin' to put on play-actor clothes an' go round lookin' indecent, Phoebe Wise, why, you're mistaken 'cause I ain't so there!" "Nay, nurse!" Phoebe exclaimed, earnestly. "'Tis the costume thou art wearing now that is mummer's weeds.
The light was fading down; the even-song was done; and the good folks of Bideford were trooping home in merry groups, the father with his children, the lover with his sweetheart, to cakes and ale, and flapdragons and mummer's plays, and all the happy sports of Christmas night.
His morality is a mummer's mask; his pathos is pretence; the only thing truly Irish about him is his humor, his ceaseless wit, the unfailing sparkle of his fancy. Quite suddenly the ghastly tragicomedy of the King's life came to an end.
From this muddle, which resembles a sort of stagnant pool, emerge the strangest fungus-growths, clergymen who take to acting a 'miracle-play, ostensibly for the purposes of charity, but really to gratify their own tastes and leanings toward the mummer's art, all the time utterly regardless of the effect their behavior is likely to have on the minds of the unthinking populace, who are led by the newspapers, and who read therein bantering inquiries as to whether the Church is coquetting with the Stage? whether the two are likely to become one? and whether Religion will in the future occupy no more serious consideration than the Drama?
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