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Updated: June 25, 2025
Thence returning to the wood we sampled White Lodge, the Warwick's home under the steep wooded bluff of Hill 63, where the rats made merry among the dirt and unburied food; also La Plus Douce, a pastoral but dangerous spot, where the Douve flowed muddily amidst neglected water-meadows stretching along to Wulverghem with its battered church tower showing among the trees.
She murmured some stereotyped regret, but there was a sharp pain at her heart till there came to her the remembrance of Warwick's question, uttered on the spot where she was standing. Some solace she must have, and clinging to this one thought hopefully within herself "He has made some promise, has gone to get released from it, and will come back to say what he looked last night.
But decidedly fortune was kind to him to-day: for, opening the creel, he found Sir Warwick's fly-book within it, bulging with hooks and flies by the score nay, by the hundred. He unbuckled the strap and was turning the leaves to make his choice, when his ear caught the sound of footsteps, and he lifted his eyes to see Sir John Crang coming down the road. "Hullo!" hailed Sir John.
"The barons will call on him to resign; and then and then, Anne sister Anne, Warwick's daughters cannot be born to be simple subjects!" "Isabel, God temper your ambition! Oh, curb it, crush it down! Abuse not your influence with Clarence. Let not the brother aspire to the brother's crown." "Sister, a king's diadem covers all the sins schemed in the head that wins it!"
Warwick's wit, informed him: 'The two different species then break their shallow armistice and join the shock of battle for possession of the earth, and we are outnumbered and exterminated, to a certainty. So I am against independence. 'Socially a Mussulman, subject to explosions! Diana said. 'So the eternal duel between us is maintained, and men will protest that they are for civilization.
One hundred yards farther they came to the creek, and both strode in together to ford. The water was only knee-deep, but Warwick's boots sank three inches in the mud of the bottom. And at that instant the gods of the jungle, always waiting with drawn scimitar for the unsuspecting, turned against them. Singhai suddenly splashed down into the water, on his hands and knees. He did not cry out.
Again, the crest on Warwick's helmet, of which such a point is made in Henry the Sixth, is absolutely correct in a fifteenth-century play when crests were generally worn, but would not have been so in a play of Shakespeare's own time, when feathers and plumes had taken their place a fashion which, as he tells us in Henry the Eighth, was borrowed from France.
But she had become acquainted with the other side of the famous Dannisburgh case the unfortunate plaintiff; and compassion as well as morality moved her to put on a speaking air when Mr. Warwick's name was mentioned. She pictured him to the ladies of her circle as 'one of our true gentlemen in his deportment and his feelings. He was, she would venture to say, her ideal of an English gentleman.
Most fortunate for Edward was this mistake; for Warwick's artillery, and the new and deadly bombards he had constructed, were placed on the right of the earl's army; and the provident earl, naturally supposing Edward's left was there opposed to him, ordered his gunners to cannonade all night. Raw, cold, and dismal dawned the morning of the fourteenth of April, the Easter Sabbath.
"The Lady of Bonville!" repeated Sibyll, changing colour; "she is a dame of notable loveliness." "So men say, and mated to a foolish lord; but scandal, which spares few, breathes not on her, rare praise for a court dame. Few Houses can have the boast of Lord Warwick's, 'that all the men are without fear, and all the women without stain."
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