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Updated: May 31, 2025
You might just as well have one of these, and run no chances getting one of the next lot. They'll be precisely the same; only, you see, they're going to name the next ones 'Every Bosom's Friend, to fit lean and fat, and without distinction of sex. Ideal thing now, is n't it? Yes, that's right fifteen cents two for twenty-five, Professor? don't you want another for your wife?"
He caught the train at Warborne, and moved rapidly towards Bath; not precisely in the same key as when he had dressed in the hut at dawn, but, as regarded the mechanical part of the journey, as unhesitatingly as before. And with the change of scene even his gloom left him; his bosom's lord sat lightly in his throne. St.
He colored slightly, but only at the remembrance of having confided to this comparative stranger his bosom's secret under the spell of an ocean intimacy. "You brought home other things, I dare say?" Mary asked after a pause, glancing up at him. "Oh, yes!"
Scorn laid thee prostrate in the deepest dust; Wit wages ceaseless war on all that's fair, In angel and in God it puts no trust; The bosom's treasures it would make its prey, Besieges fancy, dims e'en faith's pure ray. Yet issuing like thyself from humble line, Like thee a gentle shepherdess is she Sweet poesy affords her rights divine, And to the stars eternal soars with thee.
She could honestly summon bright light to her eyes in wishing the man were married. She did not ask herself why she called it up. The remorseless progressive interrogations of a Jesuit Father in pursuit of the bosom's verity might have transfixed it and shown her to herself even then a tossing vessel as to the spirit, far away from that firm land she trod so bravely.
The music paused, and I turned from my watch of the shadowy figures crossing the square, in instant alarm lest something was wrong. But whatever startled him ceased, for in a moment he went on again, and as he sang his voice rang fuller: Of my love the guerdon true, 'Tis my bosom's only guest. This I say, her eyes are blue.
DON MANUEL. Of thy mother naught Hast thou e'er told; who is she? If in words I paint her, bring her to thy sight BEATRICE. Thou know'st her! And thou wert silent! DON MANUEL. If I know thy mother, Horrors betide us both! BEATRICE. Oh, she is gracious As the sun's orient beam! Yes! I behold her; Fond memory wakes; and from my bosom's depths Her godlike presence rises to my view!
Her brow from her black falling hair Ascends like morn: her nose is clear As morning hills, and finely fair With pearly nostrils curving near The red bow of her upper lip; Her bosom's the white wave beneath the ship.
If he has long adored her, and known himself to be preferred by her in innocency of heart; if he has solved the problem of being her bosom's lord, without basely seeking to degrade her to being his mistress; the epithets to characterise him in our vernacular will probably be all the less flattering. Politically we are the most self-conscious people upon earth, and socially the frankest animals.
'Now is the winter of our discontent. 'My bosom's lord sits lightly on his throne. Come, let us make ready, and we'll talk till "'Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty' misty steeple of Park-Street Church, since we haven't any misty mountaintops in the neighborhood." "One would think you the happy man."
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