work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3979,"","Reading Felicity Nussbaum's The Limits of the Human (New York and Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003), p. 29.",2006-12-18 00:00:00 UTC,"Maria had newly risen, and with her Night-gown only thrown loose about her, had look'd out of the Window, just as her Father and Dangerfield were approaching the Gate, at the same Instant she cast her Eyes upon Dangerfield, and he accidentally look'd up to the Window where she stood, their Surprize was mutual, but that of Dangerfield the greater; he saw such an amazing Sight of Beauty, as made him doubt the Reality of the Object, or distrust the Perfection of his Sight; he saw his dear Lady, who had so captivated him the preceeding Day, he saw her in all the heightning Circumstances of her Charms, he saw her in all her native Beauties, free from the Incumbrance of Dress, her Hair as black as Ebony, hung flowing in careless Curls over her Shoulders, it hung link'd in amorous Twinings, as if in Love with its own Beauties; her Eyes not yet freed from the Dullness of the late Sleep, cast a languishing Pleasure in their Aspect, which heaviness of Sight added the greatest Beauties to those Suns, because under the Shade of such a Cloud, their Lustre cou'd only be view'd; the lambent Drowsiness that play'd upon her Face, seem'd like a thin Veil not to hide, but to heighten the Beauty which it cover'd; her Night-gown hanging loose, discover'd her charming Bosom, which cou'd bear no Name, but Transport, Wonder and Extasy, all which struck his Soul, as soon as the Object hit his Eye; her Breasts with an easy Heaving, show'd the Smoothness of her Soul and of her Skin; their Motions were so languishingly soft, that they cou'd not be said to rise and fall, but rather to swell up towards Love, the Heat of which seem'd to melt them down again; some scatter'd jetty Hairs, which hung confus'dly over her Breasts, made her Bosom show like Venus caught in Vulcan's Net, but 'twas the Spectator, not she, was captivated. This Dangerfield saw, and all this at once, and with Eyes that were adapted by a preparatory Potion; what must then his Condition be? He was stricken with such Amazement, that he was forced to Support himself, by leaning on Rinaldo's Arm, who started at his sudden Indisposition. ‘I'm afraid, Sir, (said he) you have received some Wound in the Duel.' ‘Oh! Sir, (said he) I am mortally wounded'; but recollecting himself after a little Pause, ‘now I am better.' Rinaldo wou'd have sent for a Surgeon to have it searched. ‘Your pardon, Sir, (said Dangerfield) my Indisposition proceeds from an inward Malady, not by a Sword, but like those made by Achilles's Spear, nothing can cure, but what gave the Wound.' Rinaldo guessing at the Distemper, but not the Cause of it, out of good Manners declined any further enquiry, but conducting him in, entertained him with all the Courtesy imaginable; but in half a Hour, a Messenger came from the Senate, requiring his immediate Attendance; he lying under an indispensable Necessity of making his personal Appearance, begg'd Dangerfield's Pardon, intreating him to stay, and command his House till his return, and conducting him to a fine Library, said he might there find Entertainment, if he were addicted to Study; adding withal, as a farther Engagement of his Patience, that he should meet the Admiral at the Senate, whom he wou'd bring home as an Addition to their Company at Dinner. Dangerfield needed none of these Motives to stay, being detained by a secret Inclination to the Place; walking therefore into the Library, Rinaldo went to the Senate. Dangerfield when alone, fell into deep Ruminating on his strange Condition, he knew himself in the House, with one of his dear Charmers, but durst not hope to see her, which added to his Torment; like Tantalus remov'd the farther from Happiness, by being nearer to it, contemplated so far on the Beauties of that dear Creature, that he concluded, if her Wit were like that of his t'other Mistress, he wou'd endeavour to confine his Passion wholly to that Object.
(pp. 432-4)",2011-06-16,10338,"INTEREST: crazy passage. Worthwile writing about in terms of mind/body dualism. Here the breast (one of my keywords)--or rather, breasts?--is yoked, in zeugma, to the soul","""Her Night-gown hanging loose, discover'd her charming Bosom, which cou'd bear no Name, but Transport, Wonder and Extasy, all which struck his Soul, as soon as the Object hit his Eye; her Breasts with an easy Heaving, show'd the Smoothness of her Soul and of her Skin; their Motions were so languishingly soft, that they cou'd not be said to rise and fall, but rather to swell up towards Love, the Heat of which seem'd to melt them down again; some scatter'd jetty Hairs, which hung confus'dly over her Breasts, made her Bosom show like Venus caught in Vulcan's Net, but 'twas the Spectator, not she, was captivated.""","",2014-07-11 19:22:10 UTC,""
7539,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-11 18:21:35 UTC,"To diversifie the Stile of my Narration, I will sometimes make my Traveller speak, and sometimes I will take up the Discourse my self. I will represent to my self the abstracted Ideas of an Indian, and I will likewise represent ours to him. In short, taking it for granted, that we two understand one another by half a Word, I will set both his and my Imagination on the Ramble. Those that won't take the Pains to follow us, may stay where they are, and spare themselves the trouble of reading further in the Book; but they that are minded to Amuse themselves, ought to attend the Caprice of the Author for a few Moments.
(p. 20)",,21654,"","""In short, taking it for granted, that we two understand one another by half a Word, I will set both his and my Imagination on the Ramble.""","",2013-07-11 18:21:35 UTC,""
7539,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-11 18:22:20 UTC,"He sees an infinite Number of different Machines, all in violent Motion. Some Riding on the Top, some Within, others Behind, and Jehu in the Coach-Box before, whirling some Dignify'd Villain towards the Devil, who has got an Estate by Cheating the Publick. He Lolls at full Stretch within, and half a Dozen Brawny Bulk-begotten Footmen behind. Some Carry, others are Carry'd: Make Way there, says a Gouty-Leg'd Chairman, that is carrying a Punk of Quality to a Mornings Exercise: Or a Bartholomew-Baby Beau, newly Launch'd out of a Chocolate-House, with his Pockets as empty as his Brains. Make Room there, says another Fellow driving a Wheel-Barrow of Nuts, that spoil the Lungs of the City Prentices, and make them Wheeze over their Mistresses, as bad as the Phlegmatick Cuckolds their Masters do, when call'd to Family Duty. One Draws, another Drives. Stand up there, you Blind Dog, says a Carman, Will you have the Cart squeeze your Guts out? One Tinker Knocks, another Bawls, Have you Brass Pot, Iron Pot, Kettle, Skillet, or a Frying-Pan to mend: Whilst another Son of a Whore yells louder than Homer's Stentor, Two a Groat, and Four for Six Pence Mackarel. One draws his Mouth up to his Ears, and Howls out, Buy my Flawnders, and is followed by an Old Burly Drab, that Screams out the Sale of her Maids and her Sole at the same Instant.
(pp. 21-2)",,21655,"","""Or a Bartholomew-Baby Beau, newly Launch'd out of a Chocolate-House, with his Pockets as empty as his Brains.""","",2013-07-11 18:22:20 UTC,""
7539,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-11 18:23:19 UTC,"Here walk'd a Fellow with a long white Rod on his Shoulder, that's asham'd to cry his Trade, though he gets his Living by it; another bawling out TODD's Four Volumes in Print, which a Man in Reading of, wou'd wonder that so much Venom should not tear him to pieces, but that some of the ancient Moralists have observed, that the Rankest Poyson may be kept in an Asses Hoof, or a Fool's Bosom. Some say, the first Word he spoke was Rascal, and that if he lives to have Children, they will all speak the same Dialect, and have a Natural Antipathy to Eggs, because their Father was palted with hundreds of them, when he was dignified on the Pillory.
(pp. 110-1)",,21656,"","""Here walk'd a Fellow with a long white Rod on his Shoulder, that's asham'd to cry his Trade, though he gets his Living by it; another bawling out TODD's Four Volumes in Print, which a Man in Reading of, wou'd wonder that so much Venom should not tear him to pieces, but that some of the ancient Moralists have observed, that the Rankest Poyson may be kept in an Asses Hoof, or a Fool's Bosom.""","",2013-07-11 18:23:32 UTC,""
7539,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-11 18:24:21 UTC,"But I find nothing will be lost. There sits a Gentleman in the corner of a quite different Temper, who takes every thing upon himself, that was meant to another. He Blushes, he grows Pale, he's out of Countenance; at last quits the Room, and as he goes out, threatens all the Company with his Eyes. What does the World think of this holding up the Buckler, they put but a bad Construction upon it, and say that his Conscience is Ulcerated, that you cannot touch any String, but it will answer to some painful place. Touch a Gall'd Horse and He'll Wince. In a word, he's wounded all over, because he's all over Sensible of Pain.
(pp. 153-4)",,21657,"","""What does the World think of this holding up the Buckler, they put but a bad Construction upon it, and say that his Conscience is Ulcerated, that you cannot touch any String, but it will answer to some painful place.""","",2013-07-11 18:24:21 UTC,""