Sublime

Temperance was a delicate wench.

Apart from his dinners and his coursing, Mr Vincy, blustering as he was, had as little of his own way as if he had been a prime minister: the force of circumstances was easily too much for him, as it is for most pleasure-loving florid men; and the circumstance called Rosamond was particularly forcible by means of that mild persistence which, as we

no more like my father Than I to Hercules:

Filippo, Duke of Milan, who slew his wife and painted her lips with a scarlet poison that her lover might suck death from the dead thing he fondled;

Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me.

Then comes the kicker: and so death spread to all men because all men sinned. A glorious non-sequitur, if I’ve ever seen one. Is Paul saying we die, because we also sin? Or we die, because Adam sinned? That’s certainly what he seems to be saying . . . because of one man’s trespass, death reigned through that one man. Which suggests that all of us h

‘Yes, Lydgate is bored,’ said Will, who had more comprehension of Lydgate than Rosamond had, and was not offended by his manner, easily imagining outdoor causes of annoyance. ‘There is the more need for you to stay,’ said Rosamond, playfully, and in her lightest accent; ‘he will not speak to me all the evening.’ ‘Yes, Rosamond, I shall,’ said Lydga