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Updated: May 28, 2025
Then took up The word, and spoke the Arab woman dark: "Who are thy ancestors? Which is thy tribe Among all those that fill the mighty world? You're only Beny Leqyt, and the scum Of people of all sorts. Thou call'st thyself A city woman. What are city men? Thy lords don't slander folk. 'Tis only those Who come whence no one knows who have so rude A tongue.
"Let us hear about it, Pièrre, for even thy victory is unknown by name to us, poor devils of the army of Italy. How call'st thou the place?" "Grandrengs," said Pièrre, proudly. "It's a name will live as long, perhaps, as many of those high-sounding ones you have favored us with. Mayhap, thou hast heard of Cambray?" "Never!" said the hussar, shaking his head.
Besides," he laughed slyly, "I saw e'en more to thine interest, for methinks the princess is as much in love with thy looks as art thou with hers." "Silence, fool! Thou hast said more than enough already. Think'st thou the son of a duke royal would look at a brown-skinned savage, an unbelieving pagan, no matter how comely, as thou call'st it, she might be!"
There art thou, mighty one! where'er the discord darkest frown, Thou call'st the meek harmonious peace, the god-like soother down. The noisy chase is lulled asleep, day's clamor dies afar, And through the sweet and veiled air in beauty comes the star. Soft-sighing through the crisped reeds, the brooklet glides along, And every wood the nightingale melodious fills with song.
Lord Flemyng, who put thee on board, believed thee the child of James Hepburn of Lillieburn, the archer, and of my poor Mary Stewart, a kinswoman of mine ain; and it was in that belief doubtless that he, or Tibbott, as thou call'st him, would have spoken with thee." "But the woman at Tideswell," said Cis, who was getting bewildered "Diccon said that she spake to Master Gorion."
Not in thy free range Of woods and wilds alone, thou blendest thus The dirge note and the song of festival; But in one heart, one changeful human heart, Ay, and within one hour of that strange world, Thou call'st their music forth, with all its tones To startle and to pierce! the dying Swan's, And the glad Sky-lark's, Triumph and Despair!"
Come, Brother, will you go home with me? Bel. Home! no, never to that place thou call'st so. Till then, I'll let mistaken Parents know The mischiefs that ensue a broken Vow. SCENE I. Covent Garden. Enter Betty Flauntit alone. Flaunt.
Lackaday, go home, let Maudie tie a warm nightcap on thy head, get thee a warm breakfast and a cup of distilled waters, and thou wilt be in ease tomorrow to fight thy wooden dromond, or soldan, as thou call'st him, the only thing thou wilt ever lay downright blow upon." "Ay, say'st thou so, comrade?" answered Oliver, much relieved, yet deeming it necessary to seem in part offended.
"Trust thy coxcomb no longer with me," said the incensed glover; "but take thyself, and the thing thou call'st a head, out of my reach, lest I borrow back five minutes of my youth and break thy pate!" "You have had a merry Fastern's Even, neighbour," said the bonnet maker, "and I wish you a quiet sleep; we shall meet better friends tomorrow." "Out of my doors tonight!" said the glover.
'I will observe thy words, she said submissively, for he seemed to her great and learned; 'but I like not that thou call'st me "you." 'Why, these be grave matters, he replied, 'and "you" is graver than "thou." But I love thee well. I will take thee a walk if the sun shine to-morrow. He tightened his belt and took his pike from the corner.
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