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Updated: June 26, 2025
Hanmer, will you be that friend?" "You are choosing a rough sort of nurse-maid." "But will you?" She faced him, wonderful in the moonlight. His eyes dropped. His voice stammered, "I I will do my best, Miss Josselin." She held out a hand. He took it perforce in his rope-roughened paw, held it awkwardly for a moment, and released it as one lets a bird escape. Ruth smiled.
For the year 1720, he is no otherwise below Theobald, Hanmer, Capell, Warburton, or even Johnson, than as they are successively below each other, and all of them as to accuracy below Steevens, as he again was below Malone and Read. The gains from Shakspeare would hardly counterbalance the loss which Pope sustained this year from the South Sea Bubble.
The moonlight shone now and again on her face beneath the arch of her wimple; and once, as she glanced up at the heavens, Mr. Hanmer interpreting that she lifted her head to a scent of danger, and shooting a sidelong look despite himself surprised a lustre as of tears in her eyes; whereupon he felt ashamed, as one who had intruded on a secret. "Mr. Hanmer." "Ma'am?"
Hanmer, who desired I would see him at that hour. I did intend, for brevity sake, to have given the reader only an abstract of it; but, upon trial, found myself unequal to such a task, without injuring so excellent a piece.
which stands so in Hanmer, and, indeed is the usually received arrangement of the song. This is the last corrected passage in the first act, in the course of which Mr. Collier gives us no fewer than sixteen, altered, emended, and commented upon in his folio.
His dramatic writings were first published together in folio 1623 by some of the actors of the different companies they had been acted in, and perhaps by other servants of the theatre into whose hands copies might have fallen, and since republished by Mr. Rowe, Mr. Pope, Mr. Theobald, Sir Thomas Hanmer, and Mr. Warburton.
The poems of John Hopkins are dedicated to this Dowager-duchess, who, when they were published, had already for two years been the wife of Sir Thomas Hanmer. At the age of twelve, and probably in Dublin, Hopkins met the mysterious lady who animates these volumes under the name of Amasia. Who was Amasia? That, alas! even the volubility of her lover does not reveal.
"To the last degree, Miss Josselin," Mr. Hanmer agreed eagerly. "To the last degree within the right military rules. Fighting a ship's an art, you see." It seemed that she did not hear him. "It runs in the blood," she said. She was thinking, fearfully yet exultantly, of this wonderful power of women, for whose sake cowards will behave as heroes and heroes turn to cowards.
Ruth looked sideways at him and laughed a liquid little laugh, much like the bubbling note of a thrush. "You could not have given an answer more pat, sir. I want to speak to you about a child, caught young and about to be taken to sea. You are less shy with children, I hope?" "Not a bit," confessed Mr. Hanmer. He added, "They take to me, though the few I've met.
But a message came down to Boston Quay, with the great coach for Mrs. Vyell, and the baggage and saddle-horses for the gentlemen. There were three saddle-horses, for Ruth added an invitation for Mr. Hanmer, "if the discipline of the ship would allow." "She always was the thoughtfullest!" cried Dicky. "Why, sir, to be sure you must come too. . . . We'll go shooting.
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