text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"DORIMANT
""Music so softens and disarms the mind--""
HARRIET
""That not one arrow does resistance find.""
(Act V, scene ii, p. 143)",2011-05-25 20:58:34 UTC,"""Music so softens and disarms the mind.""",2003-07-23 00:00:00 UTC,"Act V, scene ii. Dorimant and Harriet Woodvill split a Waller couplet","",2003-10-23,"","•Dorimant quotes Waller throughout the play. Harriet, his equal in wit, is able to finish his couplets for him. From ""Of my Lady Isabella, Playing on the Lute"" (ll. 11-12)",Reading,9581,3700
"SIR FOPLING
Hey, Champagne, Norman, La Rose, La Fleur, La Tour, La Verdure!--Dorimant!--
LADY WOODVILL
Here, here he is among this rout! He names him! Come away, Harriet, come away!
Exeunt Lady Woodvill, Harriet, Busy, and Young Bellair.
DORIMANT
This fool's coming has spoiled all: she's gone. But she has left a pleasing image of herself that wanders in my soul. It must not settle there.
SIR FOPLING
What reverie is this? Speak, man.
DORIMANT
""Snatched from myself, how far behind
Already I behold the shore!""
(Act III, scene iii, p. 115)",2013-06-04 15:59:11 UTC,"""But she has left a pleasing image of herself that wanders in my soul. It must not settle there.""",2003-07-23 00:00:00 UTC,"Act III, scene iii","",,Inhabitants,"• Dorimant has just met Harriet Woodvill. Dorimant quotes Waller's ""Of Loving at First Sight""
•An early use of ""reverie""? (in 1676!)
•I've included twice: Wandering and Settling",Reading,9585,3700
"As Amoret with Phillis sat
One evening on the plain,
And saw the charming Strephon wait
To tell the nymph his pain,
The threat'ning danger to remove,
She whispered in his ear,
""Ah Phillis, if you would not love,
This shepherd do not hear:
None ever had so strange an art,
His passion to convey
Into a list'ning virgin's heart
And steal her soul away.
(Act V, scene ii, p. 143)",2009-09-14 19:34:20 UTC,"The soul may be stolen from a ""list'ning"" virgin's heart",2003-07-23 00:00:00 UTC,"Act V, scene ii. Busy sings song ""made"" by Dorimant. Emilia teases Harriet, who has had the song sung ""at least a dozen times"" that morning.","",,"",•My reading: the passion (like a lover) makes its way into the heart (a home) and steals away or elopes with the soul (a young virgin).,Reading,9586,3700
"MRS. LOVEIT
Was it no idle mistress, then?
DORIMANT
Believe me--a wife, to repair the ruins of my estate that needs it.
MRS. LOVEIT
The knowledge of this makes my grief hang lighter on my soul, but I shall never more be happy.
(V, ii, p. 147)",2011-05-23 17:19:58 UTC,"""The knowledge of this makes my grief hang lighter on my soul, but I shall never more be happy.""",2003-07-23 00:00:00 UTC,"Act V, scene ii","",2011-05-23,"","Dorimant tries to ""clear"" himself with Mrs. Loveit",Reading,9587,3700
"There is not so Disproportionate a Mixture in any Creature, as that is in Man, of Soul and Body. There is Intemperance, join'd with Divinity; Folly, with Severity; Sloth, with Activity; and Uncleanness, with Purity. But, a Good Sword is never the worse for an ill Scabbard. We are mov'd more by Imaginary Fears, than Truths; for Truth has a Certainty, and Foundation; but, in the other, we are expos'd to the Licence, and Conjecture of a distracted Mind; and our Enemies, are not more Imperious, than our Pleasures. We set our Hearts upon Transitory Things; as if they Themselves were Everlasting; or We, on the other side, to possess them for Ever. Why do we not rather advance our Thoughts to things that are Eternal, and contemplate the Heavenly Original of all Beings? Why do we not, by the Divinity of Reason, triumph over the Weaknesses of Flesh, and Blood? It is by Providence that the World is preserv'd; and not from any Virtue in the Matter of it; for the World is as Mortal as we are; only the Almighty Wisdom carries it safe through all the Motions of Corruption. And so by Prudence, Human Life it self may be prolong'd if we will but stint our selves in those Pleasures, that bring the greater part of us untimely to our End. Our Passions are nothing else but certain Disallowable Motions of the Mind; Sudden, and Eager; which, by Frequency, and Neglect, turn to a Disease; as a Distillation brings us first to a Cough, and then to a Phthisick. We are carry'd Up to the Heavens, and Down again into the Deep, by Turns; so long as we are govern'd by our Affections, and not by Virtue: Passion, and Reason, are a kind of Civil War within us; and as the one, or the other has Dominion, we are either Good, or Bad. So that it should be our Care, that the worst Mixture may not prevail. And they are link'd, like the Chain of Causes, and Effects, one to another. Betwixt violent Passion, and a Fluctuation, or Wambling of the Mind, there is such a Difference, as betwixt the Agitation of a Storm, and the Nauseous Sickness of a Calm. And they have all of them their Symptoms too, as well as our Bodily Distempers: They that are troubled with the Falling-Sickness, know when the Fit is a coming, by the Cold of the Extreme Parts; the Dazling of the Eyes; the Failing of the Memory; the Trembling of the Nerves, and the Giddiness of the Head: So that every Man knows his own Disease, and should provide against it. Anger, Love, Sadness, Fear, may be read in the Countenance; and so may the Virtues too. Fortitude makes the Eye Vigorous; Prudence makes it Intent; Reverence shews it self in Modesty; Joy, in Serenity; and Truth, in Openness, and Simplicity. There are sown the Seeds of Divine Things in Mortal Bodies. If the Mind be well Cultivated, the Fruit answers the Original; and, if not, all runs into Weeds. We are all of us Sick of Curable Diseases; And it costs us more to be Miserable, than would make us perfectly Happy. Consider the Peaceable state of Clemency, and the Turbulence of Anger; the Softness, and Quiet of Modesty, and the Restlessness of Lust. How cheap, and easie to us is the Service of Virtue, and how dear we pay for our Vices! The Sovereign Good of Man, is a Mind that subjects all things to it self; and is it self subject to nothing: His Pleasures are Modest, Severe, and Reserv'd; and rather the Sauce, or the Diversion of Life, than the Entertainment of it. It may be some Question, whether such a Man goes to Heaven, or Heaven comes to Him: For a good Man is Influenc'd, by God himself; and has a kind of Divinity within him. What if one Good Man Lives in Pleasure, and Plenty, and another in Want, and Misery? 'Tis no Virtue, to contemn Superfluities, but Necessities: And they are both of them Equally Good, though under several Circumstances, and in different Stations.
(pp. 474-476)",2011-09-20 16:25:31 UTC,"""There is not so Disproportionate a Mixture in any Creature, as that is in Man, of Soul and Body ... But, a Good Sword is never the worse for an ill Scabbard.""",2011-09-20 16:25:31 UTC,Epistle XXII.,"",,"",Rich Passage: see 5 entries following,"Searching ""mind"" in Google Books",19195,7097
"There is not so Disproportionate a Mixture in any Creature, as that is in Man, of Soul and Body. There is Intemperance, join'd with Divinity; Folly, with Severity; Sloth, with Activity; and Uncleanness, with Purity. But, a Good Sword is never the worse for an ill Scabbard. We are mov'd more by Imaginary Fears, than Truths; for Truth has a Certainty, and Foundation; but, in the other, we are expos'd to the Licence, and Conjecture of a distracted Mind; and our Enemies, are not more Imperious, than our Pleasures. We set our Hearts upon Transitory Things; as if they Themselves were Everlasting; or We, on the other side, to possess them for Ever. Why do we not rather advance our Thoughts to things that are Eternal, and contemplate the Heavenly Original of all Beings? Why do we not, by the Divinity of Reason, triumph over the Weaknesses of Flesh, and Blood? It is by Providence that the World is preserv'd; and not from any Virtue in the Matter of it; for the World is as Mortal as we are; only the Almighty Wisdom carries it safe through all the Motions of Corruption. And so by Prudence, Human Life it self may be prolong'd if we will but stint our selves in those Pleasures, that bring the greater part of us untimely to our End. Our Passions are nothing else but certain Disallowable Motions of the Mind; Sudden, and Eager; which, by Frequency, and Neglect, turn to a Disease; as a Distillation brings us first to a Cough, and then to a Phthisick. We are carry'd Up to the Heavens, and Down again into the Deep, by Turns; so long as we are govern'd by our Affections, and not by Virtue: Passion, and Reason, are a kind of Civil War within us; and as the one, or the other has Dominion, we are either Good, or Bad. So that it should be our Care, that the worst Mixture may not prevail. And they are link'd, like the Chain of Causes, and Effects, one to another. Betwixt violent Passion, and a Fluctuation, or Wambling of the Mind, there is such a Difference, as betwixt the Agitation of a Storm, and the Nauseous Sickness of a Calm. And they have all of them their Symptoms too, as well as our Bodily Distempers: They that are troubled with the Falling-Sickness, know when the Fit is a coming, by the Cold of the Extreme Parts; the Dazling of the Eyes; the Failing of the Memory; the Trembling of the Nerves, and the Giddiness of the Head: So that every Man knows his own Disease, and should provide against it. Anger, Love, Sadness, Fear, may be read in the Countenance; and so may the Virtues too. Fortitude makes the Eye Vigorous; Prudence makes it Intent; Reverence shews it self in Modesty; Joy, in Serenity; and Truth, in Openness, and Simplicity. There are sown the Seeds of Divine Things in Mortal Bodies. If the Mind be well Cultivated, the Fruit answers the Original; and, if not, all runs into Weeds. We are all of us Sick of Curable Diseases; And it costs us more to be Miserable, than would make us perfectly Happy. Consider the Peaceable state of Clemency, and the Turbulence of Anger; the Softness, and Quiet of Modesty, and the Restlessness of Lust. How cheap, and easie to us is the Service of Virtue, and how dear we pay for our Vices! The Sovereign Good of Man, is a Mind that subjects all things to it self; and is it self subject to nothing: His Pleasures are Modest, Severe, and Reserv'd; and rather the Sauce, or the Diversion of Life, than the Entertainment of it. It may be some Question, whether such a Man goes to Heaven, or Heaven comes to Him: For a good Man is Influenc'd, by God himself; and has a kind of Divinity within him. What if one Good Man Lives in Pleasure, and Plenty, and another in Want, and Misery? 'Tis no Virtue, to contemn Superfluities, but Necessities: And they are both of them Equally Good, though under several Circumstances, and in different Stations.
(pp. 474-476)",2011-09-20 16:27:19 UTC,"""Our Passions are nothing else but certain Disallowable Motions of the Mind; Sudden, and Eager; which, by Frequency, and Neglect, turn to a Disease; as a Distillation brings us first to a Cough, and then to a Phthisick.""",2011-09-20 16:27:19 UTC,Epistle XXII.,"",,"","","Searching ""mind"" in Google Books",19196,7097
"There is not so Disproportionate a Mixture in any Creature, as that is in Man, of Soul and Body. There is Intemperance, join'd with Divinity; Folly, with Severity; Sloth, with Activity; and Uncleanness, with Purity. But, a Good Sword is never the worse for an ill Scabbard. We are mov'd more by Imaginary Fears, than Truths; for Truth has a Certainty, and Foundation; but, in the other, we are expos'd to the Licence, and Conjecture of a distracted Mind; and our Enemies, are not more Imperious, than our Pleasures. We set our Hearts upon Transitory Things; as if they Themselves were Everlasting; or We, on the other side, to possess them for Ever. Why do we not rather advance our Thoughts to things that are Eternal, and contemplate the Heavenly Original of all Beings? Why do we not, by the Divinity of Reason, triumph over the Weaknesses of Flesh, and Blood? It is by Providence that the World is preserv'd; and not from any Virtue in the Matter of it; for the World is as Mortal as we are; only the Almighty Wisdom carries it safe through all the Motions of Corruption. And so by Prudence, Human Life it self may be prolong'd if we will but stint our selves in those Pleasures, that bring the greater part of us untimely to our End. Our Passions are nothing else but certain Disallowable Motions of the Mind; Sudden, and Eager; which, by Frequency, and Neglect, turn to a Disease; as a Distillation brings us first to a Cough, and then to a Phthisick. We are carry'd Up to the Heavens, and Down again into the Deep, by Turns; so long as we are govern'd by our Affections, and not by Virtue: Passion, and Reason, are a kind of Civil War within us; and as the one, or the other has Dominion, we are either Good, or Bad. So that it should be our Care, that the worst Mixture may not prevail. And they are link'd, like the Chain of Causes, and Effects, one to another. Betwixt violent Passion, and a Fluctuation, or Wambling of the Mind, there is such a Difference, as betwixt the Agitation of a Storm, and the Nauseous Sickness of a Calm. And they have all of them their Symptoms too, as well as our Bodily Distempers: They that are troubled with the Falling-Sickness, know when the Fit is a coming, by the Cold of the Extreme Parts; the Dazling of the Eyes; the Failing of the Memory; the Trembling of the Nerves, and the Giddiness of the Head: So that every Man knows his own Disease, and should provide against it. Anger, Love, Sadness, Fear, may be read in the Countenance; and so may the Virtues too. Fortitude makes the Eye Vigorous; Prudence makes it Intent; Reverence shews it self in Modesty; Joy, in Serenity; and Truth, in Openness, and Simplicity. There are sown the Seeds of Divine Things in Mortal Bodies. If the Mind be well Cultivated, the Fruit answers the Original; and, if not, all runs into Weeds. We are all of us Sick of Curable Diseases; And it costs us more to be Miserable, than would make us perfectly Happy. Consider the Peaceable state of Clemency, and the Turbulence of Anger; the Softness, and Quiet of Modesty, and the Restlessness of Lust. How cheap, and easie to us is the Service of Virtue, and how dear we pay for our Vices! The Sovereign Good of Man, is a Mind that subjects all things to it self; and is it self subject to nothing: His Pleasures are Modest, Severe, and Reserv'd; and rather the Sauce, or the Diversion of Life, than the Entertainment of it. It may be some Question, whether such a Man goes to Heaven, or Heaven comes to Him: For a good Man is Influenc'd, by God himself; and has a kind of Divinity within him. What if one Good Man Lives in Pleasure, and Plenty, and another in Want, and Misery? 'Tis no Virtue, to contemn Superfluities, but Necessities: And they are both of them Equally Good, though under several Circumstances, and in different Stations.
(pp. 474-476)",2011-09-20 16:34:14 UTC,"""It may be some Question, whether such a Man goes to Heaven, or Heaven comes to Him: For a good Man is Influenc'd, by God himself; and has a kind of Divinity within him.""",2011-09-20 16:34:14 UTC,Epistle XXII.,"",,"","","Searching ""mind"" in Google Books",19200,7097
"Dim, as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,
Is reason to the soul; and as on high,
Those rolling fires discover but the sky
Not light us here; so reason's glimmering ray
Was lent not to assure our doubtful way,
But guide us upward to a better day.
And as those nightly tapers disappear
When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere
So pale grows reason at religion's sight:
So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.
Some few, whose lamp shone brighter, have been led
From cause to cause, to Nature's secret head;
And found that one first principle must be:
But what, or who, that Universal He;
Whether some soul incompassing this ball
Unmade, unmov'd; yet making, moving all;
Or various atoms' interfering dance
Leapt into form (the noble work of chance;)
Or this great all was from eternity;
Not even the Stagirite himself could see;
And Epicurus guess'd as well as he:
As blindly grop'd they for a future state;
As rashly judg'd of Providence and Fate:
But least of all could their endeavours find
What most concern'd the good of human kind.
For happiness was never to be found;
But vanish'd from 'em, like enchanted ground.
One thought content the good to be enjoy'd:
This, every little accident destroy'd:
The wiser madmen did for virtue toil:
A thorny, or at best a barren soil:
In pleasure some their glutton souls would steep;
But found their line too short, the well too deep;
And leaky vessels which no bliss could keep.
Thus anxious thoughts in endless circles roll,
Without a centre where to fix the soul:
In this wild maze their vain endeavours end:
How can the less the greater comprehend?
Or finite reason reach infinity?
For what could fathom God were more than He.
(ll. 1-41)",2011-12-17 21:07:19 UTC,"""Dim, as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars / To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers, / Is reason to the soul; and as on high, / Those rolling fires discover but the sky / Not light us here; so reason's glimmering ray / Was lent not to assure our doubtful way, / But guide us upward to a better day.""",2011-12-17 20:13:20 UTC,"","",,Optics,"","Reading. Found in Johnson's Dictionary <:Link>. Found again in Marshall Brown, ""Romanticism and Enlightenment"" The Cambridge Companion to British Romanticism, edited by Stuart Curran (Cambridge UP, 1993), 33.
",19349,7132
"Dim, as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,
Is reason to the soul; and as on high,
Those rolling fires discover but the sky
Not light us here; so reason's glimmering ray
Was lent not to assure our doubtful way,
But guide us upward to a better day.
And as those nightly tapers disappear
When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere
So pale grows reason at religion's sight:
So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.
Some few, whose lamp shone brighter, have been led
From cause to cause, to Nature's secret head;
And found that one first principle must be:
But what, or who, that Universal He;
Whether some soul incompassing this ball
Unmade, unmov'd; yet making, moving all;
Or various atoms' interfering dance
Leapt into form (the noble work of chance;)
Or this great all was from eternity;
Not even the Stagirite himself could see;
And Epicurus guess'd as well as he:
As blindly grop'd they for a future state;
As rashly judg'd of Providence and Fate:
But least of all could their endeavours find
What most concern'd the good of human kind.
For happiness was never to be found;
But vanish'd from 'em, like enchanted ground.
One thought content the good to be enjoy'd:
This, every little accident destroy'd:
The wiser madmen did for virtue toil:
A thorny, or at best a barren soil:
In pleasure some their glutton souls would steep;
But found their line too short, the well too deep;
And leaky vessels which no bliss could keep.
Thus anxious thoughts in endless circles roll,
Without a centre where to fix the soul:
In this wild maze their vain endeavours end:
How can the less the greater comprehend?
Or finite reason reach infinity?
For what could fathom God were more than He.
(ll. 1-41)",2011-12-17 20:25:03 UTC,"""In pleasure some their glutton souls would steep; / But found their line too short, the well too deep; / And leaky vessels which no bliss could keep.",2011-12-17 20:24:12 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,19352,7132
"Dim, as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,
Is reason to the soul; and as on high,
Those rolling fires discover but the sky
Not light us here; so reason's glimmering ray
Was lent not to assure our doubtful way,
But guide us upward to a better day.
And as those nightly tapers disappear
When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere
So pale grows reason at religion's sight:
So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.
Some few, whose lamp shone brighter, have been led
From cause to cause, to Nature's secret head;
And found that one first principle must be:
But what, or who, that Universal He;
Whether some soul incompassing this ball
Unmade, unmov'd; yet making, moving all;
Or various atoms' interfering dance
Leapt into form (the noble work of chance;)
Or this great all was from eternity;
Not even the Stagirite himself could see;
And Epicurus guess'd as well as he:
As blindly grop'd they for a future state;
As rashly judg'd of Providence and Fate:
But least of all could their endeavours find
What most concern'd the good of human kind.
For happiness was never to be found;
But vanish'd from 'em, like enchanted ground.
One thought content the good to be enjoy'd:
This, every little accident destroy'd:
The wiser madmen did for virtue toil:
A thorny, or at best a barren soil:
In pleasure some their glutton souls would steep;
But found their line too short, the well too deep;
And leaky vessels which no bliss could keep.
Thus anxious thoughts in endless circles roll,
Without a centre where to fix the soul:
In this wild maze their vain endeavours end:
How can the less the greater comprehend?
Or finite reason reach infinity?
For what could fathom God were more than He.
(ll. 1-41)",2011-12-17 20:27:45 UTC,"""Thus anxious thoughts in endless circles roll, / Without a centre where to fix the soul.""",2011-12-17 20:27:45 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,19353,7132