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"No; I'm too sleepy to see anything; but don't make any more such mistakes." "No, sir cert'nly not, sir; but don't you see, sir, how it was, really?" "No; unless you'd had too much coffee!" "Well, sir, then, as you will keep on thinking it was coffee or something else, I must, for my character's sake, sir, explain." "Not this morning, Brigley, thank you; some other time."
Are Actors justified in acting the Play so as to dwarf the Love plot and cut out Act V as needless? Is Portia the proper counterpart in consummate character creation to Shylock? To whom does, if properly played, the ultimate interest of the Play belong? Why does this position belong to no other character's part? What is the business of Act V? How is it linked to the preceding Act?
Sometimes when he was beginning to try to write things and to imagine characters, if he imagined a character's dying, then he became afraid he was that character, and was going to die.
The 'character' had concluded that anecdote, and was half-way through another, when Charteris, looking at his watch, found that it was almost six o'clock. He interrupted one of the 'character's' periods by diving past him and moving rapidly down the street. The historian did not seem to object. Charteris looked round and saw that he had button-holed a fresh victim.
I'm afraid my character's already pretty well fixed in its present form. When it comes over me, for instance, to play the clown, I've got to do it or burst. And you're naturally a tyrant, you know." "I am.
He was a dispirited, but a grateful creature, after he had delivered them up. The delirium came by fits, as if a devil lurked to surprise him. "With this money," said the demon, "you might speculate, and in two days make ten times the amount." To which Anthony answered: "My character's worth fifty times the amount." Such was his reply, but he did not think it.
As on the evening before, the young man was smoking his after-dinner cigar on the veranda, when the Irish Setter and a whiff of pipe smoke announced the strange character's presence. Without taking a seat, the novelist said, "I always have a look at the mountains, at this time of the day, Mr. King would you care to come?
"All this time," he said, "you've not told me what you intend to do with her." "Do with her? You talk as if she were a yard of calico. I shall do absolutely nothing with her, and she herself will do everything she chooses. She gave me notice of that." "What you meant then, in your telegram, was that her character's independent."
'What do you mean? I was finding it difficult, such is the effect of a guilty conscience, to meet his eye, and the fact irritated me. 'I want to find out that address you gave the Ford kid this morning out in the stable-yard. It is strange how really literal figurative expressions are. I had read stories in which some astonished character's heart leaped into his mouth.
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