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Updated: May 12, 2025
Danvers and Lucrèce looked mystified. Byle winked at Arlington. "Don't tell 'em my disgrace. So cap's a colonel? This is a surprise. I'm just back from a jant to Cinc'natti. Stayed there a coon's age with brother Virgil, who moved down from the Yok, last fall, and went into the pork trade. Virgil's married, same as you four, but I'll be dadbanged if he wasn't fooled in his woman. I tell you, Mrs.
"Sometime, Lucrèce, but not now, I will tell you a story of foolish love to match your own. We are all alike, and we all hope against reason." "No; there is no reason, no wisdom, no prudence only love. Yes, yes, something more, as I see the only star that shines there above the dark trees, and seems to die and live again while we look at it.
As for the earl of Southampton, the poet's early patron, to whom the Venus and Adonis and the Lucrece are dedicated, his name was Henry; he was but nine years younger than Shakespeare, and therefore not likely to have been called by him "a sweet boy;" he was a remarkably plain man, instead of an Adonis, and noted, not for his devotion to women in general, but for his ardent attachment to Mistress Elizabeth Vernon, whom he married secretly, in spite of the queen's opposition, in 1598.
Then he come back once again in the night when Little Hammer was away, and before morning he go; but when Little Hammer return, there lay his bride only an Injin girl, but his bride-dead! You see? Eh? No? Well, the Captain at the Post he says it was the same as Lucrece. I say it was like hell.
"Why did you direct our captain to pass this way, if it is a dangerous place?" asked Lucrèce. "Oh, the island over yonder is a damned sight more dangerous, ain't it, Abe?" "You are not rowing direct for the shore. I shall be very grateful to you, gentlemen, if you land us at the nearest point and assist our friends who are out on the water in a yawl."
Pussy treads even softer than usual, when after the coveted cream; that larger pussy, the tiger, steals lightly towards the ambushed hunter who is to furnish him the next delicious meal; and "Tarquin's ravishing strides" are undoubtedly a misnomer, for the Roman must have been something more or less than man if he did not tip-toe his sandals or cast them off altogether, when he stole towards the midnight bed of Lucrece.
Neither Lucrèce, who loved Danvers, nor Chester, who loved Evaleen, could hear what passed, in rapid speech, between the affectionate couple. The story of the voyage, the wreck, the abduction, Evaleen imparted in a breath. She told as briefly the circumstances of the rescue. "Oh, Warren, is it really you? A divine Providence guards us. Such a coincidence is not blind chance.
I authorise the Theatre Francais to play to-morrow, Friday, the 25th, on behalf of the victims of the war, the fifth act of "Hernani" by the actors of the Theatre Francais and the last act of "Lucrece Borgia" by the actors of the Porte Saint Martin, and in addition the recitation as an intermede of extracts from Les Chatiments, Les Contemplations and La Legende des Siecles. Mlle.
Then the gallant soldier brought me home, carrying the case, and, oh, my Evaleen, how shall I say, he kissed my lips, say 'Forgive, and went away. I have see him no more." As Evaleen listened to these naive sentences, her expression grew more and more troubled. "Kissed you!" Lucrèce nodded. "At Gallipolis? A captain? Do you know his name?" "His name oh, yes, I know his name Warren Danvers."
When possessed, they by no means necessarily lead on to the achievement of consummate harmony in music or in verse; and yet consummate harmony in either has never been found where the natural gift has not made itself conspicuous long before. Spenser's Hymns, and Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis," and "Rape of Lucrece," are striking instances of the overbalance of mere sweetness of sound.
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