The Novels and Tales of Robert Louis Stevenson: Weir of Hermiston. The plays. Fables. v. 21. St. IvesScribner's, 1896 |
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Admiral ain't AINSLIE ANTHONY Anthony Musgrave Archie Archie's ARETHUSA auld AUSTIN Awke BARBARA BERTRAND blind Bosbury BRIGADIER brother Cap'n Captain Cauldstaneslap CHARLES child Clem cried Dand daughter David Pew Deacon Deacon Brodie dead dear devil door DOROTHY DRAKE DUMONT Erchie eyes face father FENWICK Frank Frank Innes GAUNT gentleman Geordie George girl Glenalmond Glenkindie GORIOT hand hang hear heart honour HUNT Innes Jack JEAN Jerry Hunt John Fenwick king's evidence Kirstie lady lassie LAWSON LESLIE look Lord Glenalmond MACAIRE madam maid mair MARQUIS marry MARY MENTEITH mind MISS FOSTER MOORE mother Musgrave never night Pew's poor SCENE smile SMITH speak talk tell there's thing thought voice Weel Weir Weir of Hermiston what's wife William Brodie woman word ye'll ye're young
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 367 - Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried : the LORD do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.
الصفحة 152 - ... badly, it must end badly from the beginning. Now, your book began to end well. You let yourself fall in love with, and fondle, and smile at your puppets. Once you had done that, your honour was committed — at the cost of truth to life you were bound to save them.
الصفحة 156 - I HAVE a novel on the stocks to be called The Justice-Clerk. It is pretty Scotch, the Grand Premier is taken from Braxfield — (Oh, by the by, send me Cockburn's Memorials} — and some of the story is — well — queer. The heroine is seduced by one man, and finally disappears with the other man who shot him. . . . Mind you, I expect The JusticeClerk to be my masterpiece. My Braxfield is already a thing of beauty and a joy for ever, and so far as he has gone far my best character.
الصفحة 361 - Twas time for us to go." PEW (sings): " We carried away the royal yard, and the stunsail boom was gone ; Says the skipper, ' They may go or stand, I'm damned if I don't crack on; So the weather braces we'll round in, and the trysail set also, And we'll keep the brig three p'ints away, for it's time for us to go.
الصفحة 187 - Brodie flaming forth the man of men he is!] — How still it is! . . . My father and Mary — Well! the day for them, the night for me; the grimy cynical night that makes all cats grey, and all honesties of one complexion. Shall a man not have half a life of his own? — not eight hours out of twenty-four ? [Eight shall he have should he dare the pit of Tophet.] (Takes out money.) Where's the blunt ? I must be cool to-night, or ... steady, Deacon, you must win; damn you, you must!
الصفحة 412 - I'd be honest tomorrow. BERTRAND. Ah! Don't you wish you may get it! MACAIRE. Bertrand, I will bet you my head against your own — the longest odds I can imagine — that with honesty for my spring-board, I leap through history like a paper hoop, and come out among posterity heroic and immortal. SCENE II To these, all the former characters, less the NOTARY. The fiddles are heard without, playing dolefully. Air: " O dear, what can the matter be}" in time to which the procession enters.
الصفحة 61 - For that is the mark of the Scot of all classes: that he stands in an attitude towards the past unthinkable to Englishmen, and remembers and cherishes the memory of his forebears, good or bad; and there burns alive in him a sense of identity with the dead even to the twentieth generation.
الصفحة 342 - GAUNT. David Pew, I have known you a long time. PEW. And so you have ; aboard the old Arethusa ; and you don't seem that cheered up as I'd looked for, with an old shipmate dropping in, one as has been seeking you two years and more — and blind at that. Don't you remember the old chantie? — "Time for us to go, Time for us to go, And when we'd clapped the hatches on, 'Twas time for us to go.
الصفحة 38 - I'll never support ye in idleset. What do ye fancy ye'll be fit for ? The pulpit ? Na, they could never get diveenity into that bloackhead. Him that the law of man whammles is no likely to do muckle better by the law of God. What would ye make of hell ? Wouldna your gorge rise at that ? Na, there's no room for splairgers under the fower quarters of John Calvin.