William Bouguereau The Broken Pitcher painting
John William Waterhouse Ophelia painting
Anne stepped off the train at Valley Road station and looked about to see if any one had come to meet her. She was to board with a certain Miss Janet Sweet, but she saw no one who answered in the least to her preconception of that lady, as formed from Esther's letter. The only person in sight was an elderly woman, sitting in a wagon with mail bags piled around her. Two hundred would have been a charitable guess at her weight; her face was as round and red as a harvest-moon and almost as featureless. She wore a tight, black, cashmere dress, made in the fashion of ten years ago, a little dusty black straw hat trimmed with bows of yellow ribbon, and faded black lace mits.
"Here, you," she called, waving her whip at Anne. "Are you the new Valley Road schoolma'am?"
"Yes."
"Well, I thought so. Valley Road is noted for its good-looking schoolma'ams, just as Millersville is noted for its humly ones. Janet Sweet asked me this morning if I could bring
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2008年7月7日星期一
2008年6月14日星期六
William Bouguereau The Broken Pitcher painting
William Bouguereau The Broken Pitcher painting
Edgar Degas Star of the Ballet painting
you for a bitter jest or two!
BIANCA
Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush;And then pursue me as you draw your bow.You are welcome all.
[Exeunt BIANCA, KATHARINA, and Widow]
PETRUCHIO
She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio.This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not;Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd.
TRANIO
O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound,PETRUCHIO
A good swift simile, but something currish.
TRANIO
'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself:'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay.
BAPTISTA
O ho, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now.
LUCENTIO
I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.
HORTENSIO
Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here?
PETRUCHIO
A' has a little gall'd me, I confess;And, as the jest did glance away from me,'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright.
BAPTISTA
Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
Edgar Degas Star of the Ballet painting
you for a bitter jest or two!
BIANCA
Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush;And then pursue me as you draw your bow.You are welcome all.
[Exeunt BIANCA, KATHARINA, and Widow]
PETRUCHIO
She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio.This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not;Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd.
TRANIO
O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound,PETRUCHIO
A good swift simile, but something currish.
TRANIO
'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself:'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay.
BAPTISTA
O ho, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now.
LUCENTIO
I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.
HORTENSIO
Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here?
PETRUCHIO
A' has a little gall'd me, I confess;And, as the jest did glance away from me,'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright.
BAPTISTA
Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
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