OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Tempest (Rackham)/Act 5

ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.
Before Prospero’s cell.
Enter Prospero in his magic robes, and Ariel.
Prospero.
Ariel.
Prospero.
Ariel.
Prospero.
You said our work should cease. ‍Dost thou think so, spirit?
Ariel.
Mine would, sir, were I human.
Prospero.
Ariel.
And they shall be themselves. ‍I'll fetch them, sir, [Exit.
Prospero.
Ariel sings and helps to aitire him.
Prospero.
Ariel.
Gonzalo.
Prospero.
Alonso.
Prospero.
Gonzalo.
Prospero.
Sebastian.
[Aside.] The devil speaks in him.
Prospero.
19
Alonso.
Prospero.
My dear son Ferdinand. ‍I am woe for ’t, sir.
Alonso.
Prospero.
Alonso.
And rest myself content. ‍You the like loss!
Prospero.
Alonso.
Prospero.
Miranda.
Sweet lord, you play me false.
Ferdinand.
Miranda.
Alonso.
Sebastian.
Shall I twice lose. ‍A most high miracle!
Ferdinand.
Alonso.
Miranda.
Prospero.
That has such people in ’t! ‍’Tis new to thee.
Alonso.
Ferdinand.
Alonso.
Prospero.
Gonzalo.
Alonso.
I say, Amen, Gonzalo!
Gonzalo.
Alonso.
Gonzalo.
Boatswain.
Ariel.
Prospero.
Have I done since I went. ‍[Aside to Ariel.] My tricksy spirit!
Alonso.
Boatswain.
Ariel.
[Aside to Prospero.] Was’t well done?
Prospero.
[Aside to Ariel.] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free.
20
Alonso.
Prospero.
Re-enter Ariel, driving in Caliban, Stephano and Trinculo, in their stolen apparel.
Stephano.
Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself; for all is but fortune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio!
Trinculo.
If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's a goodly sight.
Caliban.
Sebastian.
Antonio,
Prospero.
Caliban.
Acknowledge mine. ‍I shall be pinch’d to death.
Alonso.
Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?
Sebastian.
He is drunk now: where had he wine?
Alonso.
Trinculo.
I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing.
Sebastian.
Why, how now, Stephano!
Stephano.
O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a cramp.
Prospero.
You ’ld be king o’ the isle, sirrah?
Stephano.
I should have been a sore one then.
Alonso.
This is a strange thing as e’er I look’d on.
[Pointing to Caliban.
Prospero.
Caliban.
Prospero.
And worship this dull fool! ‍Go to; away!
Alonso.
Sebastian.
Or stole it, rather. [Exeunt Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo.
Prospero.
Alonso.
Prospero.
[Exeunt.
EPILOGUE.
Spoken by Prospero.
# The Templar

The Templar is a periodical, published from February 1788 to 1789.
* Volume 1 (1789) External scan External scan
* Volume 2 (1789) External scan External scan
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Tempest (Rackham)/Act 4

ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.
Before Prospero’s cell. Enter, Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.
Prospero.
Ferdinand.
Prospero.
Ferdinand.
Prospero.
Enter Ariel.
Ariel.
What would my potent master? here I am.
Prospero.
Ariel.
And they expect it from me. ‍Presently?
Prospero.
Ay, with a twink.
Ariel.
Prospero.
Ariel.
Till thou dost hear me call. ‍Well, I conceive.
Prospero.
Ferdinand.
Prospero.
Enter Iris.
Iris.
Enter Ceres.
Ceres.
16
IV. i. 132.
Iris.
Ceres.
Iris.
Ceres.
Enter Juno.
Juno.
Juno.
Ceres.
Ferdinand
Prospero.
Ferdinand
Prospero.
Iris.
Prospero.
Ferdinand
Miranda.
Prospero.
Ferdinand. Miranda.
Prospero.
Ariel.
Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure?
Prospero.
Ariel.
Prospero.
Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?
Ariel.
Prospero.
Ariel.
O’erstunk their feet. ‍I go, I go.
Prospero.
Prospero and Ariel remain, invisible. Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet.
Caliban.
Stephano.
Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little better than played the Jack with us.
17
Trinculo.
Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which my nose is in great indignation.
Stephano.
So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take a displeasure against you, look you,—
Trinculo.
Thou wert but a lost monster.
Caliban.
Trinculo.
Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,—
Stephano.
There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster, but an infinite loss.
Trinculo.
That ’s more to me than my wetting: yet this is your harmless fairy, monster.
Stephano.
I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er ears for my labour.
Caliban.
Stephano.
Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts.
Trinculo.
O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look what a wardrobe here is for thee!
Caliban.
Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.
Trinculo.
O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery. O king Stephano!
Stephano.
Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I ’ll have that gown.
Trinculo.
Thy grace shall have it.
Caliban.
Stephano.
Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair and prove a bald jerkin.
Trinculo.
Do, do: we steal by line and level, an’t like your grace
Stephano.
I thank thee for that jest; here’s a garment for’t: wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country. “Steal by line and level” is an excellent pass of pate; there ’s another garment fort.
Trinculo.
Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and away with the rest.
Caliban.
Stephano.
Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this away where my hogshead of wine is, or I ’ll turn you out of my kingdom: go to, carry this.
Trinculo.
And this.
Stephano.
Ay, and this.
Prospero.
Hey, Mountain, hey!
Ariel.
Silver! there it goes, Silver!
Prospero.
Ariel.
Hark, they roar!
Prospero.
18
IV. i. 259.
# The Tempest (Song)

Traditional Scottish song.
* "The Tempest" in Captain Glen's Unhappy Voyage to New Barbary (1800s(?)).
* "The Tempest" in The Tempest, To which are added… (1802).
# The Siren's Song

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Siren's Song."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* "The Siren's Song", poem by William Browne
* "The Siren's Song", song by Jerome Kern (music) and P. G. Wodehouse (lyrics)
# The Sister-years

* "The Sister-years" in Twice-Told Tales
* "The Sister Years" in Tales of the White Hills, and sketches, 1889
# The Siren
## Dissenting Opinion

    Nelson
United States Supreme Court
74 U.S. 152
The Siren
APPEAL from the District Court for Massachusetts.
The steamer Siren was captured in the harbor of Charleston in attempting to violate the blockade of that port, in February, 1865, by the steamer Gladiolus, belonging to the navy of the United States. She was placed in charge of a prize master and crew, and ordered to the port of Boston for adjudication. On her way she was obliged to put into the port of New York for coal, and, in proceeding thence through the narrow passage which leads to Long Island Sound, known as Hurlgate, she ran into and sank the sloop Harper, loaded with iron, and bound from New York to Providence, Rhode Island. The collision was regarded by this court, on the evidence, as the fault of the Siren.
On the arrival of the steamer at Boston, a libel in prize was filed against her, and no claim having been presented, she was, in April following, condemned as lawful prize, and sold. The proceeds of the sale were deposited with the assistant treasurer of the United States, in compliance with the act of Congress, where they now remain, subject to the order of the court.
In these proceedings the owners of the sloop Harper, and the owners of her cargo, intervened by petition, asserting a claim upon the vessel and her proceeds, for the damages sustained by the collision, and praying that their claim might be allowed and paid out of the proceeds.
The District Court held that the intervention could not be allowed, and dismissed the petitions; and hence the present appeals.
Mr. Ashton, Assistant Attorney-General Of the United States, argued the case fully, upon principles and authority, maintaining the correctness of the decree below upon several specific grounds, resolvable into these two general ones:
1st. That to allow the intervention would be, in substance, to allow the citizen to implead the government, which, he asserted, was universally repugnant to settled principles; and,
2d. That the question as to a claim upon a prize ship, created after capture, was not within the jurisdiction of a prize court, which, he contended, can deal only with the question of prize or no prize.
Mr. Causten Browne, contra.
Mr. Justice FIELD delivered the opinion of the court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Siren's Song (Kern and Wodehouse)

* information about this edition.
* related portals: sheet music.
Song from the musical Leave It to Jane.
[Verse]
    (Jane.) On an Island far away,
    So the old world legends say,
    Sat wicked Sirens all day long,
    singing their sweet deceitful song
    Mariners came sailing near,
    heard that song so soft and clear,
    Answered the call that lured them all,
    and upon the reef came straight to grief.
[Refrain]
    Come to us, We've waited so long for you,
    Ev'ry day we'll make a new song for you,
    come, come, to us we love you so.
    Leave behind the world and it's fretting,
    and we will give you rest and forgetting.
    So sang the Sirens ages and ages ago.
    Come to us, we've waited so long for you,
    we'll make life a beautiful song for you,
    come, come to us. We love you so.
    leave behind the world and it's fretting,
    And we will give you rest and forgetting.
    So sang the Sirens ages and ages ago.
[Verse]
    (Bessie.) Now long years have passed away,
    Sirens are a myth they say,
    But you still find them none the less,
    singing today in modern dress
    Just the same they set their snare,
    sweetly smiling, false and fair,
    Turn a deaf ear when you are near,
    or upon the reef you'll come to grief.
[Refrain]
    Come to us, We've waited so long for you,
    We'll make life one beautiful song for you,
    come, come, to us we love you so.
    That's the song the Sirens will sing you,
    and if you hark to shipwreck they'll bring you.
    Just as they used to ages and ages ago.
    Come to us, we've waited so long for you,
    we'll make life a beautiful song for you,
    come, come to us. We love you so.
    leave behind the world and it's fretting,
    And we will give you rest and forgetting.
    So sang the Sirens ages and ages ago.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1975, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 48 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Sister's Dream

* The Sister's Dream, in Forget Me Not, 1828.
* The Sister's Dream, in National Lyrics, and Songs for Music, 1834.
# The Pearl/Volume 1/Amen

Oh! cunt is a kingdom, and prick is its lord; A whore is a slave, and her mistress a bawd; Her quim is her freehold, which brings in her rent; Where you pay when you enter, and leave when you've spent.
# The Pearl/Volume 1/Love

Nature, everywhere the same, Imparts to man a lustful flame; In Russian snow or Indian fire, All men alike indulge desire, All alike, feel passion's heat, All alike, enjoyment greet, So that wheresoe'er you go, Still the same voluptuous glow Throbs through every purple vein, Thirsts enjoyment to obtain; 'Mongst the dark, or with the fair, Woman is empress everywhere.
# The Pearl/Volume 1/The Meeting of the Waters

A Parody on Moore's Melody
There is not in this wide world a valley so sweet, As that vale where the thighs of a pretty girl meet: Oh, the last ray of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Yet it is not that Nature has shed o'er the scene, The purest of red, the most delicate skin, 'Tis not the sweet smell of the genial hill; Ah, no! it is something more exquisite still.
'Tis because the last favours of woman are there, Which make every part of her body more dear. We feel how the charms of Nature improve, When we bathe in the spendings of her whom we love.
# The Pearl/Volume 1/The Origin Species

Air.—"Derry Down."
When Adam and Eve were first put into Eden, They never once thought of that pleasant thing—breeding Though they had not a rag to cover their front, Adam sported his prick, and Eve sported her cunt. Derry down.
Adam's prick was so thick and so long—such a teaser; Eve's cunt was so hairy and fat—such a breezer; Adam's thing was just formed any maiden to please, And his bollocks hung down very near to his knees. Derry down.
Eve played with his balls, and thought it no harm: He fingered her quim and ne'er felt alarm; He tickled her bubbies, she rubbed up his yard, And yet for a fuck, why they felt no regard. Derry down.
But when Mrs. Eve did taste of the fruit, It was then that her eyes first beheld Adam's root; Then he ate an apple, and after he had done't, Why then he first found out the value of cunt. Derry down.   Then they say they made fig leaves, that's fiddle-de-dee. He wanted a quim, and quite ready was she; They gazed on their privates with mutual delight, And she soon found a hole to put jock out of sight! Derry down.
Then Adam soon laid Mrs. Eve on the grass, He pop't in his prick, she heaved up her arse; He wriggled, she wiggled, they both stuck to one tether And she tickled his balls, till they both came together! Derry down.
Since then, all her children are filled with desire, And the women a stiff-standing prick all require! And no son of Adam will e'er take affront, For where is the man that can live without cunt. Derry down.
# The Pearl/Volume 1/The Pleasures Of Love

Pressed in the arms of him I so adored, The keeper of my charms, my pride, my lord! By day experiencing each sweet delight, And meeting endless transports every night When on our downy bed we fondly lay, Heating each other by our am'rous play; Till Nature, yielding to the luscious game, Would fierce desire and quenchless lust inflame! Oh! then we join'd in love's most warm embrace, And pressed soft kisses on our every grace! Around my form his pliant limbs entwined, Love's seat of bliss to him I then resigned! We pant, we throb, we both convulsive start! Heavens! then what passions thro' our fibres dart! We heave, we wriggle, bite, laugh, tremble, sigh!
We taste Elysian bliss—we fondle—die.
# The Pearl/Volume 1/A Prologue

Spoke by Miss Bella de Lancy, on her retiring from the Stage to open a Fashionable Bawdy House.
(Written by S. Johnson, LL.D.)
When cunt first triumphed (as the learned suppose) O'er failing pricks, Immortal Dildo rose, From fucks unnumbered, still erect he drew, Exhausted cunts, and then demanded new;
Dame Nature saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting pricks toiled after him in vain; The laxest folds, the deepest depths he filled; The juiciest drained; the toughest hymens drilled.
The fair lay gasping with distended limbs, And unremitting cockstands stormed their quims. Then Frigging came, instructed from the school, And scorned the aid of India-rubber tool.
With restless finger, fired the dormant blood, Till Clitoris rose, sly, peeping thro' her hood. Gently was worked this titillating art, It broke no hymen, and scarce stretched the part;
Yet lured its votaries to a sudden doom, And stamped Consumption's flush on Beauty's bloom. Sweet Gamahuche found softer ways to fame, It asked not Dildo's art, nor Frigging's flame.
Tongue, not prick, now probes the central hole, And mouth, not cunt, becomes prick's destined goal. It always found a sympathetic friend; And pleased limp pricks, and those who could not spend,
No tedious wait, for laboured stand, delays The hot and pouting cunt, which tongue allays. The taste was luscious, tho' the smell was strong; The fuck was easy, and would last so long;
Til wearied tongues found gamahuching cloy, And pricks, and cunts, grew callous to the joy. Then dulled by frigging, by mock pricks enlarged, Her noble duties Cunt but ill discharged.
Her nymphæ drooped, her devil's bite grew weak, And twice two pricks might flounder in her creek; Till all the edge was taken off the bliss, And Cunt's sole occupation was to piss.
Forced from her former joys, with scoft and brunt, She saw great Arsehole lay the ghost Cunt Exulting buggers hailed the joyful day, And piles and hœmerrids confirmed his sway.
But who lust's future fancies can explore, And mark the whimsies that remain in store? Perhaps it shall be deemed a lover's treat, To suck the flowering quims of mares in heat;
Perhaps, where beauty held unequalled sway, A Cochin fowl shall rival Mabel Grey; Nobles be rained by the Hyaena's smile, And Seals get short engagements from th' Argyle.
Hard is her lot, that here by Fortune placed, Must watch the wild vicissitudes of taste; Catch every whim, learn every bawdy trick, And chase the new born bubbles of the prick;
Ah, let not Censure term our fate, our choice, The Bawd but echoes back the public voice; The Brothers laws, the Brothel's patrons give, And those that live to please, must please to live;
Then purge these growing follies from your hearts, And turn to female arms, and female arts; 'Tis yours this night, to bid the reign begin, Of all the good old-fashioned ways to sin;
Clean, wholesome girls, with lip, tongue, cunt, and hand, Shall raise, keep up, put in, take down a stand; Your bottoms shall by lily hands be bled, And birches blossom under every bed.
# The Pearl/Volume 1/Nursery Rhymes

There was a young man of Bombay, Who fashioned a cunt out of clay; But the heat of his prick Turned it into a brick, And chafed all his foreskin away.
There was a young man of Peru, Who had nothing whatever to do; So he took out his carrot And buggered his parrot, And sent the result to the Zoo.
There was a young girl of Ostend, Who her maidenhead tried to defend, But a Chasseur d'Afrique Inserted his prick, And taught that ex-maid how to spend.
There was a young man of Calcutta, Who tried to write "Cunt" on a shutter. When he got to C-U, A pious Hindoo Knocked him arse over head in the gutter.
There was a young man of Ostend, Whose wife caught him fucking her friend; "It's no use, my duck, Interrupting our fuck, For I'm damned if I draw till I spend."
There was a young man of Wood Green, Who tried to fart "God Save the Queen." When he reached the soprano, He shot his guano, And his breeches weren't fit to be seen.
There was a young man of Dundee, Who one night went out on the spree; He wound up his clock With the tip of his cock, And buggered himself with the key.
There was a young lady of Troy, Who invented a new kind of joy: She sugared her thing Both outside and in, And then had it sucked by a boy.
There was a young man of Santander, Who tried hard to bugger a gander; But the virtuous bird Plugged his arse with a turd, And refused to such low tastes to pander.
There was a young lady of Hitchin, Who was skrotching her cunt in the kitchen; Her father said "Rose, It's the crabs, I suppose." "You're right, pa, the buggers are itching."
There was an old person of Sark, Who buggered a pig in the dark; The swine, in surprise, Murmured "God blast your eyes, Do you take me for Boulton or Park?"
# The Times/1895/News/William Younger Fletcher

William Younger Fletcher (1830-1913) Source: News. The Times, Friday, Mar 08, 1895; Issue 34519; pg. 10; col A
Layout 2Mr. William Younger Fletcher has retired from the office of assistant-keeper in the department of printed books in the British Museum after 46 years' service, and had been succeeded by Mr. Robert Edmund Graves.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Times/1894/Obituary/John Nichol

* related portals: Obituaries.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, quotes, Wikidata item.
Source: The Times, Saturday, Oct 13, 1894; pg. 6; Issue 34394 — Obituary. Professor Nichol.
Layout 2
Obituary Professor Nichol
The death is announced, in Kensington, on Thursday, after a prolonged illness, of Professor John Nichol, Emeritus Professor of English Literature in Glasgow University, at the age of 61 years.
born at Montrose, Forfarshire, the only son of a former Professor of Astronomy in the University of the West of Scotland, Dr. Nichol was educated at Glasgow (1848-55) and at Balliol College, Oxford (1855-59). He graduated B.A. at Oxford, with first-class in classics and philosophy and honours in mathematics in 1869, but did not proceed to the degree of M.A. until 1874, after the abolition of the tests. The degree of LL.D. was conferred upon him by the University of St. Andrews, February 25, 1873. In 1861 he was appointed by the Crown Professor of English Literature in the University of Glasgow. He resigned his chair in 1889. In addition to teaching at the University, Dr. Nichol was much engaged as a private tutor at Oxford and in lecturing, especially to ladies' classes, in various parts of Scotland and England. He took some part in political and other controversies, as an advocate of the North in the American Civil War, of secular education, and of Broad Church theology.
He was the author of the following works:—"Fragments of Criticism," a volume of essays, 1860; "Hannibal," a classical drama, 1872; "Tables of European Literature and History, A.D. 200-1876," published in 1876 (the fifth edition, carried down to date, appeared in 1888); "Tables of Ancient Literature and History," 1877; "English Composition," a literature primer, 1879; "Questions on English Composition," 1890; "Byron" (English Men of Letters Series), 1880; "The Death of Themistocles and other Poems," 1881; "Robert Burns: a Sketch of his Career and Genius"; "American Literature: a Historical Review," 1882; and two volumes on "Lord Bacon's Life and Philosophy" for Black's Series of Philosophical Writers, 1887-89. He wrote the life of Carlyle in the English Men of Letters Series in 1892. He also wrote numerous essays for the Westminster, North British, and other reviews; articles in the "Encyclopædia Britannica" and several pamphlets on education questions.
This work was published in 1894 and is anonymous or pseudonymous due to unknown authorship. It is in the public domain in the United States as well as countries and areas where the copyright terms of anonymous or pseudonymous works are 129 years or less since publication.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse