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Updated: July 2, 2025
Casti suffered from the want of companionship, and that he had mentioned Ida's name to Julian; whence the discovery. "Has she been told about me?" asked Ida. "Nothing was to be said till I had spoken to you." Waymark paused, but presently continued in a more serious tone.
It would be good to introduce Steve to the clan, especially to Sharya and Casti. He was sure the man would find acceptance and, Lords willing, the closeness he had sacrificed for his Empire. The man could not truly miss what he had never known, growing up with only his two parents, but it was something he should have. Now, though, he had to explain what Steve was to do at the ceremony.
Many fine thoughts and fine expressions reward the toil of reading. Still it is a toil. The Secchia Rapita, in some points the best poem of its kind, is painfully diffuse and languid. The Animali Parlanti of Casti is perfectly intolerable. I admire the dexterity of the plot, and the liberality of the opinions.
The metre of 'Don Juan, first practised by Frere and then adopted by Lord Byron, is Pulci's octave stanza; the manner is that of Berni, Folengo, and the Abbé Casti, fused and heightened by the brilliance of Byron's genius into a new form. The subject of Shelley's strongest work of art is Beatrice Cenci. Rogers's poem is styled 'Italy. Byron's dramas are chiefly Italian.
"Casti," Waymark exclaimed suddenly, when a hint of this thought had brought both of them to a pause, "come away with me." Julian looked up in bewilderment. "Where to?" "Anywhere. To some place where the sun shines." "What an impossible idea! How am I to get my living? And how is she to live?"
On the following day, just as he had collected his rents, and was on his way out of Litany Lane, Waymark was surprised at coming face to face with Mrs. Casti; yet more surprised when he perceived that she had come out from a public-house. She looked embarrassed, and for a moment seemed about to pass without recognising him; but he had raised his hat, and she could not but move her head in reply.
What a dishonour to the memory of the great Metastasio, a man free from all vices, adorned with all virtues, and of the most singular ability. Casti had neither a fine style, nor a knowledge of dramatic requirements, as appears from two or three comic operas composed by him, in which the reader will find nothing but foolish buffooneries badly put together.
"None of your nonsense, sir! Give Mr. Casti some more meat, instead." It was a merry party. The noise of talk grew so loud that it was only the keenness of habitual attention on Sally's part which enabled her to observe that a customer was knocking on the counter. She darted out, but returned with a disappointed look on her face. "Pickles?" asked her husband, frowning. Sally nodded.
A good idea, however, of one of the phases of Berni's humour may be obtained from the same gentleman's abridgment of the Animali Parlanti of Casti, in which he has introduced a translation of the Tuscan's description of himself and of his way of life, out of his additions to Boiardo's poem.
Casti might once have done something; but I'm afraid he never will now." "And he is so very good to her. I pity him from my heart whenever I see them together. Often I have been so discouraged by her cold suspicious ways, that I half-thought I should have to give it up, but I felt it would be cruel to desert him so.
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