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Updated: May 31, 2025
You never heard father in such voice as he is at present, said Mrs Plornish, her own voice quavering, she was so proud and pleased. 'He gave us Strephon last night to that degree that Plornish gets up and makes him this speech across the table. "John Edward Nandy," says Plornish to father, "I never heard you come the warbles as I have heard you come the warbles this night."
Tarbox felt a sneaking maternal pity for this suddenly stricken Strephon. "She's gone home," she added more gently "went at sun-up this mornin'." "Home," repeated Brice. "Where's that?" Mrs. Tarbox looked at her husband and hesitated. Then she said a little in her old manner "Her uncle's." "Can you direct me the way there?" asked Brice simply.
The weary world of waters between us oppresses the imagination. It is difficult to conceive how a scrawl of mine should ever stretch across it. It is a sort of presumption to expect that one's thoughts should live so far. It is like writing for posterity; and reminds me of one of Mrs. Rowe's superscriptions, "Alcander to Strephon, in the shades."
These things are mere automata: they cannot help shrinking from death at any cost. You see that they have no self-control, and are merely shuddering through a series of reflexes. One of you two is to be destroyed. Which of you shall it be? STREPHON. Thats better. THE NEWLY BORN. Much better. How could either of us live without the other? ECRASIA. The woman is more sensible than the man.
It was the time that the earth begins to put on her new apparel against the approach of her lover, when the shepherd, Strephon, on the sands which lie against the island of Cithera, called upon him his friendly rival, Claius, and bewailed their hopeless wooing of the fair shepherdess, Urania, whose beauty taught the beholders chastity.
"Do not call me sir, my dearest Miss Belle-bouche it sounds so formal and unpoetical." "What then shall I call you?" laughed Belle-bouche, with a slight tremor in her voice. "Strephon, or Corydon, or Daphnis," said Jacques; "for you are Phillis, you know." Belle-bouche turned the color of a peony, and said faintly: "I thought my name was Chloe the other day."
What the precise remark was need not concern us. It was a casual piece of such satire as Strephon delights in. Should you be curious, dear lady, as to its nature, you have merely to dress yourself in a really modern cycling costume, get one of the feeblest-looking of your men to escort you, and ride out, next Saturday evening, to any public house where healthy, homely people gather together.
This playfulness, however, was in a great measure artificial, and usually vanished with the irritable Strephon, to whose annoyance it had been exerted. The Genius Loci, the tutela of Nightmare Abbey, the spirit of black melancholy, began to set his seal on her pallescent countenance.
CHARACTERS Popgun Maria Charles Pistolletta Postilion Hostess Chorus of ploughboys Cook and and Strephon Chloe ENTER Hostess, Charles, Maria, and Cook. EXIT Maria EXIT Cook. EXEUNT Severally. ENTER Chloe and a chorus of ploughboys. Where go I? To London . What to do? To be married . Unto whom? Unto Strephon. Who is he? A Youth. Then I will sing a song.
What would you think of us ancients if we made toys of you children? Then you would play with us; and that would be very nice. THE SHE-ANCIENT. It would not amuse us. When you play with one another you play with your bodies, and that makes you supple and strong; but if we played with you we should play with your minds, and perhaps deform them. STREPHON. You are a ghastly lot, you ancients.
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