work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
5876,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""judge"" in HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO.",2004-08-31 00:00:00 UTC,"TITANIA.
'Tis well, my haughty Monarch.
Is Oberon then to learn, that the best hearts,
The most aspiring, and the bravest, cherish
Most comprehensive feelings? Little minds
Do judge of great things, like the purblind gnat,
That deems a fly, a monster. Nobler natures
Encompass universal circumstance:
And while they can create their own enjoyment,
Find pleasing occupation every where.
The maid, that had a sigh for public sorrows,
Was happy, seeking to relieve those sorrows;
And being now a mother, will indulge,
Ev'n tho' a gossip's lullaby excite it,
A mother's ecstasy.--You, Sir, have seen her
Pleading the cause of nations.--I too, Sir,
I too have seen her; I have seen her wear
The robe of Majesty; yet never so,
But that she might descend to ease and sweetness,
All royalty preserv'd. We both have listen'd,
When midst the courtly bands, like one enraptur'd,
She hath enrich'd the gales with heaven-taught harmony:
Yet dwelt such mildness on her brow the while,
Such meek complacence, as did seem to say,
She could have own'd a pleasure in approving
A milk-maid's madrigal!--We both have seen
Her consort Lord, amidst the cares of millions,
Their homage, their applause, yearn to release
A death-doom'd felon's forfeit!--surely then,
Where regal bosoms bear so bland affections,
Titania's talk as well may hope access,
As Oberon's benediction look for welcome.
(pp. 83-5)",,15616,"","""Little minds / Do judge of great things, like the purblind gnat, / That deems a fly, a monster""",Animals,2014-04-23 18:04:14 UTC,""
5891,"","Searching in HDIS (Drama): found again, ""head"" and ""monk""",2006-11-16 00:00:00 UTC,"RALPH
Oh! a plague of these women! They are just like--
[Air.--Ralph.]
A woman is like to--but stay,
What a woman is like, who can say?
There's no living with, or without one.
Love bites, like a fly,
Now an ear, now an eye,
Buz, buz, always buzzing about one.
When she's tender and kind,
She is like, to my mind,
(And Fanny was so, I remember.)
She is like to--O dear!
She's as good very near
As a ripe melting peach in September.
If she laugh, and she chat,
Play, joke, and all that,
And with smiles and good humour she meet me,
She is like a rich dish
Of ven'son or fish,
That cries from the table, ""Come eat me:""
But she'll plague you, and vex you,
Distract and perplex you;
False-hearted and ranging,
Unsettled and changing,--
What then do you think she is like?
Like a sand! Like a rock!
Like a wheel! Like a clock!
Aye, a clock that is always at strike.
Her head's like the island, folks tell on,
Which nothing but monkies can dwell on;
Her heart's like a lemon, so nice,
She carves for each lover a slice:
In truth, she's to me
Like the wind, like the sea,
Whose raging will hearken to no man.
Like a mill,
Like a pill,
Like a flail,
Like a whale,
Like an ass,
Like a glass,
Whose image is constant to no man:
Like a flower,
Like a shower,
Like a fly,
Like a pye,
Like a pea,
Like a flea,
Like a thief,
Like--in brief,
She's like nothing on earth--but a woman.",2012-06-29,15648,•I've included twice: Island and Monkies,"""Her head's like the island, folks tell on, / Which nothing but monkies can dwell on""","",2012-06-29 17:47:54 UTC,"Act I, Scene ii"
6858,"",Browsing in Google Books,2011-05-20 15:38:52 UTC,"By Locke, true WIT is best defin'd,
Her pleasant pictures lure the mind;
Associations sudden rise,
And seize the fancy by surprise;
The effect is strong,--because it's odd,
Like fire electric from a clod;
Or when fix'd air puts out a light,
Tho' vital makes it blaze more bright.
Thus novelty a zest supplies,
And WIT still pleads by surprise;
The brilliant thought that charm'd to day,
By repetition fades away;
A maid thus shines the joy of life;-—
But what a different thing's a wife?
Wit suits not the heroic line,
Her similes are not divine;
The ludicrous they blithly season,
And make us laugh in spite of reason:-—
Discordant tho' the ideas be,
In Fancy's logic they agree;
As in the Ark by special grace,
Mice liv'd with Cats, yet throve apace.
(pp. 29-30)",,18453,"","""Discordant tho' the ideas be, / In Fancy's logic they agree; / As in the Ark by special grace, / Mice liv'd with Cats, yet throve apace.""","",2011-05-20 15:38:52 UTC,""
7159,"","Searching ""mind"" in Google Books",2012-01-09 22:31:08 UTC,"'Well, Sir, you say the passions are dangerous, I believe they are useful, and only rebellious, when we would give them false, meanings, or render them subservient to poor convenience. The passions are the wings of spirit. Cold tranquillity the grave of thought. Turn you eyes to my convent! Even there the passions reign; but they rove through the mind like murmuring, winds through barren and gloomy regions.""
(I, p. 190)",,19432,"","""The passions are the wings of spirit. Cold tranquillity the grave of thought""",Beasts,2012-01-09 22:32:22 UTC,""
7159,"",Searching in Google Books,2012-01-09 22:36:28 UTC," [...] The carriage soon left the high roads; the hoofs of the horses were not to be heard, and I concluded they were for many miles running over turf. The mind of man, when disturbed, is a chaos, 'without form and void.' His ideas take no shape, or the formation he tries at swiftly dies. Millions of chimeras floated on my imagination all were rejected in speedy succession ere they became old enough to take the colour of reason; yet fancy will be busy till we are no more.
(I, pp. 137-8)",,19435,"","""Millions of chimeras floated on my imagination all were rejected in speedy succession ere they became old enough to take the colour of reason; yet fancy will be busy till we are no more.""","",2012-01-09 22:36:28 UTC,""
7835,"",ECCO-TCP,2014-03-11 21:21:19 UTC,"""In the present instance, I allow that it has not. Ambrosio's character is perfectly without reproach; and a man who has passed the whole of his life within the walls of a convent, cannot have found the opportunity to be guilty, even were he possessed of the inclination. But now, when, obliged by the duties of his situation, he must enter occasionally into the world, and be thrown into the way of temptation, it is now that it behoves him to show the brilliance of his virtue. The trial is dangerous; he is just at that period of life when the passions are most vigorous, unbridled, and despotic; his established reputation will mark him out to seduction as an illustrious victim; novelty will give additional charms to the allurements of pleasure; and even the talents with which nature has endowed him will contribute to his ruin, by facilitating the means of obtaining his object. Very few would return victorious from a contest so severe.""
(I, pp. 29-30)",,23527,"","""The trial is dangerous; he is just at that period of life when the passions are most vigorous, unbridled, and despotic.""",Animals and Empire,2014-03-11 21:21:19 UTC,""
7835,"",ECCO-TCP,2014-03-11 21:28:42 UTC,"[...] But this never can be the case. This inscription was merely placed here for the ornament of the grotto, and the sentiments and the hermit are equally imaginary. Man was born for society. However little he may be attached to the world, he never can wholly forget it, or bear to be wholly forgotten by it. Disgusted at the guilt or absurdity of mankind, the misanthrope flies from it; he resolves to become an hermit, and buries himself in the cavern of some gloomy rock. While hate inflames his bosom, possibly he may feel contented with his situation: but when his passions begin to cool; when Time has mellowed his sorrows, and healed those wounds which he bore with him to his solitude, think you that Content becomes his companion? Ah! no, Rosario. No longer sustained by the violence of his passions, he feels all the monotony of his way of living, and his heart becomes the prey of ennui and weariness. He looks round, and finds himself alone in the universe: the love of society revives in his bosom, and he pants to return to that world which he has abandoned. Nature loses all her charms in his eyes: no one is near him to point out her beauties, or share in his admiration of her excellence and variety. Propped upon the fragment of some rock, he gazes upon the tumbling water-fall with a vacant eye; he views, without emotion, the glory of the setting sun. Slowly he returns to his cell at evening, for no one there is anxious for his arrival; he has no comfort in his solitary, unfavoury meal: he throws himself upon his couch of moss despondent and dissatisfied, and wakes only to pass a day as joyless, as monotonous as the former.""
(I, p. 90-1)",,23530,"","""No longer sustained by the violence of his passions, he feels all the monotony of his way of living, and his heart becomes the prey of ennui and weariness.""",Animals,2014-03-11 21:28:52 UTC,""
7835,"",ECCO-TCP,2014-03-11 21:29:25 UTC,"""They will not excite your pity. You know not the power of those irresistible, those fatal sentiments to which her heart was a prey. Father, she loved unfortunately. A passion for one endowed with every virtue, for a man—oh! rather let me say for a divinity—proved the bane of her existence. His noble form, his spotless character, his various talents, his wisdom solid, wonderful, and glorious, might have warmed the bosom of the most insensible. My sister saw him, and dared to love, though she never dared to hope.""
(I, pp. 95-6)",,23531,"","""You know not the power of those irresistible, those fatal sentiments to which her heart was a prey.""",Animals,2014-03-11 21:29:25 UTC,""
7835,"",ECCO-TCP,2014-03-11 21:33:45 UTC,"""I will not compel you to quit the monastery; you have received my solemn oath to the contrary: but yet, when I throw myself upon your generosity; when I declare to you the embarrassments in which your presence involves me, will you not release me from that oath? Reflect upon the danger of a discovery; upon the opprobrium in which such an event would plunge me: reflect, that my honour and reputation are at stake; and that my peace of mind depends on your compliance. As yet, my heart is free; I shall separate from you with regret, but not with despair. Stay here, and a few weeks will sacrifice my happiness on the altar of your charms; you are but too interesting, too amiable! I should love you, I should doat on you! my bosom would become the prey of desires, which honour and my profession forbid me to gratify. If I resisted them, the impetuosity of my wishes unsatisfied would drive me to madness: if I yielded to the temptation, I should sacrifice to one moment of guilty pleasure, my reputation in this world, my salvation in the next. To you, then, I sly for defence against myself. Preserve me from losing the reward of thirty years of sufferings! preserve me from becoming the victim of remorse! Your heart has already felt the anguish of hopeless love: oh! then, if you really value me, spare mine that anguish! give me back my promise; fly from these walls. Go, and you bear with you my warmest prayers for your happiness, my friendship, my esteem, and admiration: stay, and you become to me the source of danger, of sufferings, of despair. Answer me, Matilda, what is your resolve?"" She was silent.--""Will you not speak, Matilda? Will you not name your choice?""
(I, pp. 122-3)",,23537,"","""I should love you, I should doat on you! my bosom would become the prey of desires, which honour and my profession forbid me to gratify.""",Animals,2014-03-11 21:34:02 UTC,""
7835,"",ECCO-TCP,2014-03-11 21:38:13 UTC,"""Ambrosio, it must not be. When I thought thus, I deceived both you and myself: either I must die at present, or expire by the lingering torments of unsatisfied desire. Oh! since we last conversed together, a dreadful veil has been rent from before my eyes. I love you no longer with the devotion which is paid to a saint; I prize you no more for the virtues of your soul; I lust for the enjoyment of your person. The woman reigns in my bosom, and I am become a prey to the wildest of passions. Away with friendship! 'tis a cold unfeeling word: my bosom burns with love, with unutterable love, and love must be its return. Tremble then, Ambrosio, tremble to succeed in your prayers. If I live, your truth, your reputation, your reward of a life past in sufferings, all that you value, is irretrievably lost. I shall no longer be able to combat my passions, shall seize every opportunity to excite your desires, and labour to effect your dishonour and my own. No, no, Ambrosio, I must not live; I am convinced with every moment that I have but one alternative; I feel with every heart throb, that I must enjoy you or die.""
(I, pp. 157-8)",,23542,"","""The woman reigns in my bosom, and I am become a prey to the wildest of passions.""",Animals and Empire,2014-03-11 21:38:13 UTC,""