thegoodfellas/blogset-br huggingface dataset:
that he had a brother.Cecily. I am sorry to say they have notbeen on good terms for a long time.Gwendolen. Ah! that accounts for it. And nowthat I think of it I have never heard any man mention his brother. The subjectseems distasteful to most men. Cecily, you have lifted a load from my mind. Iwas growing almost anxious. It would have p.489been terrible if any cloud hadcome across a friendship like ours, would it not? Of course you are quite,quite sure that it is not Mr. Ernest Worthing who is your guardian? Cecily. Quite sure. [[A pause.]] Infact, I am going to be his.Gwendolen. [[Inquiringly.]]I beg your pardon?Cecily. [[Rather shy and confidingly.]]Dearest Gwendolen, there is no reason why I should make a secret of it to you.Our little county newspaper is sure to chronicle the fact next week. Mr. ErnestWorthing and I are engaged to be married.Gwendolen. [[Quite politely, rising.]]My darling Cecily, I think there must be some slight error. Mr. Ernest Worthingis engaged to me. The announcement will appear in the MorningPost on Saturday at the latest.Cecily. [[Very politely, rising.]]I am afraid you must be under some misconception. Ernest proposed to me exactlyten minutes ago.[Shows diary.]Gwendolen. [[Examines diary through herlorgnette carefully.]] It is certainly very curious, for he askedme to be his wife yesterday afternoon at 5.30. If you would care to verify theincident, pray do so. [[Produces diary of her own.]]I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensationalto read in the train. I am so sorry, dear Cecily, if it is any disappointmentto you, but I am afraid I have the prior claim.Cecily. It would distress me more than Ican tell you, dear Gwendolen, if it caused you any mental or physical anguish,but I feel bound to point out that since Ernest proposed to you he clearly haschanged his mind.Gwendolen. [[Meditatively.]]If the poor fellow has been entrapped into any foolish promise I shall considerit my duty to rescue him at once, and with a firm hand.Cecily. [[Thoughtfully and sadly.]]Whatever unfortunate entanglement my dear boy may have got into, I will neverreproach him with it after we are married.Gwendolen. Do you allude to me, Miss Cardew,as an entanglement? You are presumptuous. On an occasion of this kind itbecomes more than a moral duty to speak one's mind. It becomes a pleasure.Cecily. Do you suggest, Miss Fairfax,that I entrapped Ernest into an engagement? How dare you? This is no time forwearing the p.490shallow mask of manners. When Isee a spade I call it a spade. Gwendolen. [[Satirically.]]I am glad to say that I have never seen a spade. It is obvious that our socialspheres have been widely different.Enter Merriman, followed by the footman. He carries a salver, tablecloth, and plate stand. Cecily is about to retort. The presence of the servantsexercises a restraining influence, under which both girls chafe.Merriman. Shall I lay tea here as usual,Miss?Cecily. [[Sternly, in a calm voice.]]Yes, as usual.[Merriman begins to cleartable and lay cloth. A long pause. Cecily and Gwendolen glare at each other.]Gwendolen. Are there many interesting walksin the vicinity, Miss
this wretched business is that your friend Bunbury isquite exploded. p.494You won't be able to run down tothe country quite so often as you used to do, dear Algy. And a very good thingtoo. Algernon. Your brother is a little offcolour, isn't he, dear Jack? You won't be able to disappear to London quite sofrequently as your wicked custom was. And not a bad thing either.Jack. As for your conduct towards MissCardew, I must say that your taking in a sweet, simple, innocent girl like thatis quite inexcusable. To say nothing of the fact that she is my ward.Algernon. I can see no possible defence atall for your deceiving a brilliant, clever, thoroughly experienced young ladylike Miss Fairfax. To say nothing of the fact that she is my cousin.Jack. I wanted to be engaged toGwendolen, that is all. I love her.Algernon. Well, I simply wanted to beengaged to Cecily. I adore her.Jack. There is certainly no chance ofyour marrying Miss Cardew.Algernon. I don't think there is muchlikelihood, Jack, of you and Miss Fairfax being united.Jack. Well, that is no business ofyours.Algernon. If it was my business, I wouldn'ttalk about it. [[Begins to eat muffins.]] It is very vulgar to talkabout one's business. Only people like stockbrokers do that, and then merely atdinner-parties.Jack. How you can sit there, calmlyeating muffins when we are in this horrible trouble, I can't make out. You seemto me to be perfectly heartless.Algernon. Well, I can't eat muffins in anagitated manner. The butter would probably get on my cuffs. One should alwayseat muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them.Jack. I say it's perfectly heartlessyour eating muffins at all, under the circumstances.Algernon. When I am in trouble, eating isthe only thing that consoles me. Indeed, when I am in really great trouble, asanyone who knows me intimately will tell you, I refuse everything except foodand drink. At the present moment I am eating muffins because I am unhappy.Besides, I am particularly fond of muffins.[Rising.]Jack. [[Rising.]] Well,that is no reason why you should eat them all in that greedy way.[Takes muffins from Algernon.] p.495Algernon. [[Offering tea-cake.]]I wish you would have tea-cake instead. I don't like tea-cake.Jack. Good heavens! I suppose a man mayeat his own muffins in his own garden.Algernon. But you have just said it was perfectlyheartless to eat muffins.Jack. I said it was perfectly heartlessof you, under the circumstances. That is a very different thing.Algernon. That may be. But the muffins arethe same. [[He seizes the muffin-dish from Jack.]]Jack. Algy, I wish to goodness youwould go.Algernon. You can't possibly ask me to gowithout having some dinner. It's absurd. I never go without my dinner. No oneever does, except vegetarians and people like that. Besides I have just madearrangements with Dr. Chasuble to be christened at a quarter to six under thename of Ernest.Jack. My dear fellow, the sooner yougive up that nonsense the better. I made arrangements this morning with Dr.Chasuble to be christened myself at 5.30, and I naturally will take the name ofErnest. Gwendolen would wish it. We can't both be christened
Oxonian.Jack. I fear there can be no possibledoubt about the matter. This afternoon, during my temporary absence in Londonon an important question of romance, he obtained admission to my house by meansof the false pretence of being my brother. Under an assumed name he drank, I'vejust been informed by my butler, an entire pint bottle of my Perrier-Jouet,Brut, '89; a wine I was specially reserving for myself. Continuing hisdisgraceful deception, he succeeded in the course of the afternoon inalienating the affections of my only ward. He subsequently stayed to tea, anddevoured every single muffin. And what makes his conduct all the more heartlessis, that he was perfectly well aware from the first that I have no brother,that I never had a brother, and that I don't intend to have a brother, not evenof any kind. I distinctly told him so myself yesterday afternoon. p.503Lady Bracknell. Ahem! Mr. Worthing, after carefulconsideration I have decided entirely to overlook my nephew's conduct to you.Jack. That is very generous of you,Lady Bracknell. My own decision, however, is unalterable. I decline to give myconsent.Lady Bracknell. [[To Cecily.]]Come here, sweet child. [[Cecily goes over.]] Howold are you, dear?Cecily. Well, I am really only eighteen,but I always admit to twenty when I go to evening parties.Lady Bracknell. You are perfectly right in makingsome slight alteration. Indeed, no woman should ever be quite accurate abouther age. It looks so calculating. . . . [[In a meditative manner.]]Eighteen, but admitting to twenty at evening parties. Well, it will not be verylong before you are of age and free from the restraints of tutelage. So I don'tthink your guardian's consent is, after all, a matter of any importance.Jack. Pray excuse me, Lady Bracknell,for interrupting you again, but it is only fair to tell you that according tothe terms of her grandfather's will Miss Cardew does not come legally of agetill she is thirty-five.Lady Bracknell. That does not seem to me to be agrave objection. Thirty-five is a very attractive age. London society is fullof women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remainedthirty-five for years. Lady Dumbleton is an instance in point. To my ownknowledge she has been thirty-five ever since she arrived at the age of forty,which was many years ago now. I see no reason why our dear Cecily should not beeven still more attractive at the age you mention than she is at present. Therewill be a large accumulation of property.Cecily. Algy, could you wait for me tillI was thirty-five?Algernon. Of course I could, Cecily. Youknow I could.Cecily. Yes, I felt it instinctively, butI couldn't wait all that time. I hate waiting even five minutes for anybody. Italways makes me rather cross. I am not punctual myself, I know, but I do likepunctuality in others, and waiting, even to be married, is quite out of thequestion.Algernon. Then what is to be done, Cecily?Cecily. I don't know, Mr. Moncrieff.Lady Bracknell. My dear Mr. Worthing, as MissCardew states positively that she cannot wait till she is thirty-five---aremark p.504which I am bound to say seems tome to
And here, on the lock, are my initials. I had forgottenthat in an extravagant mood I had had them placed there. The bag is undoubtedlymine. I am delighted to have it so unexpectedly restored to me. It has been agreat inconvenience being without it all these years.Jack. [[In a pathetic voice.]]Miss Prism, more is restored to you than this hand-bag. I was the baby youplaced in it.Miss Prism. [[Amazed.]] You?Jack. [[Embracing her.]]Yes . . . mother!Miss Prism. [[Recoiling in indignantastonishment.]] Mr. Worthing! I am unmarried!Jack. Unmarried! I do not deny that isa serious blow. But after all, who has the right to cast a stone against onewho has suffered? Cannot repentance wipe out an act of folly? Why should therebe one law for men, and another for women? Mother, I forgive you. [[Triesto embrace her again.]]Miss Prism. [[Still more indignant.]]Mr. Worthing, there is some error. [[Pointing to Lady Bracknell.]]There is the lady who can tell you who you really are.Jack. [[After a pause.]]Lady Bracknell, I hate to seem inquisitive, but would you kindly inform me whoI am?Lady Bracknell. I am afraid that the news I haveto give you will not altogether please you. You are the son of my poor sister,Mrs. Moncrieff, and consequently Algernon's elder brother. p.508Jack. Algy's elder brother! Then I havea brother after all. I knew I had a brother! I always said I had a brother!Cecily,---how could you have ever doubted that I had a brother? [[Siezeshold of Algernon.]] Dr. Chasuble, my unfortunate brother. MissPrism, my unfortunate brother. Gwendolen, my unfortunate brother. Algy, youyoung scoundrel, you will have to treat me with more respect in the future. Youhave never behaved to me like a brother in all your life.Algernon. Well, not till to-day, old boy, Iadmit. I did my best, however, though I was out of practice.[Shakes hands.]Gwendolen. [[To Jack.]] Myown! But what own are you? What is your Christian name, now that you havebecome someone else?Jack. Good heavens! . . . I had quiteforgotten that point. Your decision on the subject of my name is irrevocable, Isuppose?Gwendolen. I never change, except in myaffections.Cecily. What a noble nature you have,Gwendolen!Jack. Then the question had better becleared up at once. Aunt Augusta, a moment. At the time when Miss Prism left mein the hand-bag, had I been christened already?Lady Bracknell. Every luxury that money couldbuy, including christening, had been lavished on you by your fond and dotingparents.Jack. Then I was christened! That issettled. Now, what name was I given? Let me know the worst.Lady Bracknell. Being the eldest son you werenaturally christened after your father.Jack. [[Irritably.]]Yes, but what was my father's Christian name?Lady Bracknell. [[Meditatively.]]I cannot at the present moment recall what the General's Christian name was.But I have no doubt he had one. He was eccentric, I admit. But only in lateryears. And that was the result of the Indian climate, and marriage, andindigestion, and other things of that kind.Jack. Algy! Can't you recollect whatour father's Christian name was?Algernon. My dear boy, we were never evenon speaking terms. He died before I was a year old.Jack. His name
would appear in the ArmyLists of the period, I suppose, Aunt Augusta.Lady Bracknell. The General was essentially a manof peace, except p.509in his domestic life. But I haveno doubt his name would appear in any military directory. Jack. The Army Lists of the last fortyyears are here. These delightful records should have been my constant study. [[Rushesto bookcase and tears the books out.]] M. Generals . . . Mallam,Maxbohm, Magley, what ghastly names they have---Markby, Migsby, Mobbs,Moncrieff! Lieutenant 1840, Captain, Lieutenant-Colonel, Colonel, General 1869,Christian names, Ernest John. [[Puts book very quietly down and speaksquite calmly.]] I always told you, Gwendolen, my name was Ernest,didn't I? Well, it is Ernest after all. I mean it naturally is Ernest.Lady Bracknell. Yes, I remember now that theGeneral was called Ernest. I knew I had some particular reason for dislikingthe name.Gwendolen. Ernest! My own Ernest! I feltfrom the first that you could have no other name!Jack. Gwendolen, it is a terrible thingfor a man to find out suddenly that all his life he has been speaking nothingbut the truth. Can you forgive me?Gwendolen. I can. For I feel that you aresure to change.Jack. My own one!Chasuble. [[To Miss Prism.]]Ltitia! [[Embraces her.]]Miss Prism. [[Enthusiastically.]]Frederick! At last!Algernon. Cecily! [[Embraces her.]]At last!Jack. Gwendolen! [[Embraces her.]]At last!Lady Bracknell. My nephew, you seem to bedisplaying signs of triviality.Jack. On the contrary, Aunt Augusta,I've now realized for the first time in my life the vital Importance of BeingEarnest.TableauCurtain
any famousperson.FactsAlthough little is known about Shakespeare theman, there is in fact much more known about him than about many of hiscontemporaries. Public records enable us to reconstruct the framework of hislife, such as his baptism, death, marriage and many business and legaltransactions. There are also a number of specifically theatrical documents thatrecord facts about him. More personalinformation may be gleaned from stories told about him by his contemporaries,and some information is also available through allusions to Shakespeare in thework of other writers of his time Inferences aboutShakespeare's lifeWhile the facts are fewer than we might like,there is much we have learned about the life of people like Shakespeare: theirschooling and their domestic lives. We know about life in Stratford and in the growing city of London. Many theatrerecords survive, and even from those that do not specifically mentionShakespeare we can learn much about his activities in the theatre. LegendsBecause of a lack of personal information aboutShakespeare's life, there are many apocryphal stories about him both as man andas writer. There is also a great deal of room for interesting speculation abouthim. In thematerial that follows, legend and speculation are carefully labelled so thatthey can be kept separate from factual information and well-informedinferences.
"The Second Coming"by William Butler YeatsTURNING and turning in the widening gyreThe falcon cannot hear the falconer;Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhereThe ceremony of innocence is drowned;The best lack all conviction, while the worstAre full of passionate intensity.Surely some revelation is at hand;Surely the Second Coming is at hand.The Second Coming! Hardly are those words outWhen a vast image out of Spiritus MundiTroubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desertA shape with lion body and the head of a man,A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,Is moving its slow thighs, while all about itReel shadows of the indignant desert birds.The darkness drops again; but now I knowThat twenty centuries of stony sleepWere vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? Excerpts fromCharles Dichen s Hard TimesDicken s viewon Education in the Victorian Period (19th century)Chapter I The One Thing NeedfulNOW, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing butFacts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root outeverything else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts:nothing else will ever be of any service to them. This is the principle onwhich I bring up my own children, and this is the principle on which I bring upthese children. Stick to Facts, sir!The scene was a plain, bare, monotonous vault of a schoolroom, and thespeakers square forefinger emphasized his observations by underscoring everysentence with a line on the schoolmasters sleeve. The emphasis was helped bythe speakers square wall of a forehead, which had his eyebrows for its base,while his eyes found commodious cellarage in two dark caves, overshadowed bythe wall. The emphasis was helped by the speakers mouth, which was wide, thin,and hard set. The emphasis was helped by the speakers voice, which wasinflexible, dry, and dictatorial. The emphasis was helped by the speakershair, which bristled on the skirts of his bald head, a plantation of firs tokeep the wind from its shining surface, all covered with knobs, like the crustof a plum pie, as if the head had scarcely warehouse-room for the hard factsstored inside. The speakers obstinate carriage, square coat, square legs,square shoulders, nay, his very neckcloth, trained to take him by the throatwith an unaccommodating grasp, like a stubborn fact, as it was, all helpedthe emphasis.In this life, we want nothing but Facts, sir; nothing but Facts!The speaker, and the schoolmaster, and the thirdgrown person present, all backed a little, and swept with their eyes theinclined plane of little vessels then and there arranged in order, ready tohave imperial gallons of facts poured into them until they were full to thebrim. Excerpt Describing CoketownDicken s view of industrialism Chapter 5: THE KEY-NOTE... Let us strike the key-note, Coketown, before pursuing our tune. It was a town of red brick, or of brick that would have been red if the smoke and ashes had allowed it; but as matters stood, it was a town
of unnatural red and black like the painted face of a savage. It was a town of machinery and tall chimneys, out of which interminable serpents of smoke trailed themselves for ever and ever, and never got uncoiled. It had a black canal in it, and a river that ran purple with ill-smelling dye, and vast piles of building full of windows where there was a rattling and a trembling all day long, and where the piston of the steam-engine worked monotonously up and down, like the head of an elephant in a state of melancholy madness. It contained several large streets all very like one another, and many small streets still more like one another, inhabited by people equally like one another, who all went in and out at the same hours, with the same sound upon the same pavements, to do the same work, and to whom every day was the same as yesterday and to-morrow, and every year the counterpart of the last and the next. These attributes of Coketown were in the main inseparable from the work by which it was sustained; against them were to be set off, comforts of life which found their way all over the world, and elegancies of life which made, we will not ask how much of the fine lady, who could scarcely bear to hear the place mentioned. The rest of its features were voluntary, and they were these. You saw nothing in Coketown but what was severely workful. If the members of a religious persuasion built a chapel there - as the members of eighteen religious persuasions had done - they made it a pious warehouse of red brick, with sometimes (but this is only in highly ornamental examples) a bell in a birdcage on the top of it. The solitary exception was the New Church; a stuccoed edifice with a square steeple over the door, terminating in four short pinnacles like florid wooden legs. All the public inscriptions in the town were painted alike, in severe characters of black and white. The jail might have been the infirmary, the infirmary might have been the jail, the town-hall might have been either, or both, or anything else, for anything that appeared to the contrary in the graces of their construction. Fact, fact, fact, everywhere in the material aspect of the town; fact, fact, fact, everywhere in the immaterial. The M'Choakumchild school was all fact, and the school of design was all fact, and the relations between master and man were all fact, and everything was fact between the lying-in hospital and the cemetery, and what you couldn't state in figures, or show to be purchaseable in the cheapest market and saleable in the dearest, was not, and never should be, world without end, Amen Another Brick In The WallPink Floydparte1Daddy'sflown across the oceanLeaving just a memorySnapshot in the family albumDaddy what else did you leave for me?Daddy, what'd'ja leave behind for me?!?All in all it was just a brick in the wall.All in all it was all just bricks in
the wall."You! Yes, you behind the bikesheds, stand stilllady!"When we grew up and went to schoolThere were certain teachers who wouldHurt the children in any way they could(oof!)By pouring their derisionUpon anything we didAnd exposing every weaknessHowever carefully hidden by the kidsBut in the town it was well knownWhen they got home at night, their fat andPsychopathic wives would thrash themWithin inches of their lives.parte 2We don't need no educationWe dont need no thought controlNo dark sarcasm in the classroomTeachers leave them kids aloneHey! Teachers! Leave them kids alone!All in all it's just another brick in the wall.All in all you're just another brick in the wall.We don't need no educationWe don't need no thought controlNo dark sarcasm in the classroomTeachers leave us kids aloneHey! Teachers! Leave us kids alone!All in all it's just another brick in the wall.All in all you're just another brick in the wall."Wrong, Guess again! 2xIf you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding.How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?You! Yes, you behind the bikesheds, stand still laddie!"parte 3I don't need no arms around meAnd I don't need no drugs to calm meI have seen the writing on the wallDon't think I need anything at allNo! Don't think I'll need anything at allAll in all it was all just bricks in the wall.All in all you were all just bricks in the wall