This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1884 Excerpt: ...authority, then, to act. Doris. Surely. But run no risk of rioting. Factor. Oh! never fear. Exit Factor. Doris. And now you would not mind Walking across the hill, perhaps, on Sunday? You'll have rare fun, and you could serve me too. I have been moving some of my poor tenants From wretched crofts to settle by the sea, ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1884 Excerpt: ...authority, then, to act. Doris. Surely. But run no risk of rioting. Factor. Oh! never fear. Exit Factor. Doris. And now you would not mind Walking across the hill, perhaps, on Sunday? You'll have rare fun, and you could serve me too. I have been moving some of my poor tenants From wretched crofts to settle by the sea, Where they can fish, and better their estate, And better, too, my rents by foresting Their ill-tilled, scanty fields. They do not like it, And I would fain know what is said and done About it at this preaching. The factor will Report, of course, but your account would be More picturesque--perhaps a trifle truer. Tremain. Certainly, I will go. Doris. Till then, adieu. You will think over what I said to you? Chorus. Cat-like, purring and mewling, and softest rubbing of fur, With just a pat of the claw, now and then, for a needed spur, Touching the quick of his vanity, making him keen to go Whithersoever she would, though whither he did not know, Seeming to answer love with love, though her heart was cool, And the clear-working brain was practising as on a fool, So she played with her victim who thought he was playing with her, For there was not a heart between them to master or minister. Clever the fool might be, yet would she wind him around her thumb, Reason soon to be blinded, conscience soon to be dumb; For when a woman is good, she doth to all good inspire, But being evil, alas 1 she burns up the soul like fire. Rouse thee, man, for an effort; what though her speech be smooth, What though she smile too upon thee in splendour of beauty and youth, There is no pity in her; look at her hard, cold eye; You she will use for her tool now, and mock with her scorn by and by. ACT THIRD.--SCENE SECOND. Chorus. Our fates are linked together, high and l...
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