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by: Moliere
PROLOGUE MERCURY, on a cloud; NIGHT, in a chariot drawn by two horses MERC. Wait! Gentle Night; deign to stay awhile: Some help is needed from you. I have two words to say to you from Jupiter. NIGHT. Ah! Ah! It is you, Seigneur Mercury! Who would have thought of you here, in that position? MERC. Well, feeling tired, and not being able to fulfil the different duties Jupiter ordered me, I quietly sat... more...

I. OLD MOODIE The evening before my departure for Blithedale, I was returning to my bachelor apartments, after attending the wonderful exhibition of the Veiled Lady, when an elderly man of rather shabby appearance met me in an obscure part of the street. "Mr. Coverdale," said he softly, "can I speak with you a moment?" As I have casually alluded to the Veiled Lady, it may not be amiss... more...

INTRODUCTION "This Comedy, which was produced by its Author the year after the performance of 'The Clouds,' may be taken as in some sort a companion picture to that piece. Here the satire is directed against the passion of the Athenians for the excitement of the law-courts, as in the former its object was the new philosophy. And as the younger generation—the modern school of... more...

SUMMER'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT.[16] Enter WILL SUMMER,[17] in his fool's coat but half on, coming out. Noctem peccatis et fraudibus objice nubem.[18] There is no such fine time to play the knave in as the night. I am a goose or a ghost, at least; for what with turmoil of getting my fool's apparel, and care of being perfect, I am sure I have not yet supp'd to-night. Will... more...

"Jimmie," said Lizzie, "couldn't we go see the pictures?" And Jimmie set down the saucer of hot coffee which he was in the act of adjusting to his mouth, and stared at his wife. He did not say anything; in three years and a half as a married man he had learned that one does not always say everything that comes into one's mind. But he meditated on the abysses that lie between... more...

Living as we do in the midst of a people, which, if not of unmixed English blood, is at least English in institutions, language and laws, where can we better read our destiny than in the pages of English history? “In our own hearts,” some will at once answer. But no, the thread of our fate is, to-day, more in the hands of the American people than in our own. The three nations, which have in modern... more...

CHAPTER I It was four o'clock in the morning when George Dupont closed the door and came down the steps to the street. The first faint streaks of dawn were in the sky, and he noticed this with annoyance, because he knew that his hair was in disarray and his whole aspect disorderly; yet he dared not take a cab, because he feared to attract attention at home. When he reached the sidewalk, he glanced... more...

CHAPTER I. "Sir—sir, it is a boy!" "A boy," said my father, looking up from his book, and evidently much puzzled: "what is a boy?" Now my father did not mean by that interrogatory to challenge philosophical inquiry, nor to demand of the honest but unenlightened woman who had just rushed into his study, a solution of that mystery, physiological and psychological, which has... more...

RED LIGHT. Mr. Gryce was melancholy. He had attained that period in life when the spirits flag and enthusiasm needs a constant spur, and of late there had been a lack of special excitement, and he felt dull and superannuated. He was even contemplating resigning his position on the force and retiring to the little farm he had bought for himself in Westchester; and this in itself did not tend to... more...

MARCH: AN ODE 1887 IEre frost-flower and snow-blossom faded and fell, and the splendour of winter had passed out of sight,The ways of the woodlands were fairer and stranger than dreams that fulfil us in sleep with delight;The breath of the mouths of the winds had hardened on tree-tops and branches that glittered and swayedSuch wonders and glories of blossomlike snow or of frost that outlightens all... more...