Mrs. Quickly. — Good people, bring a rescue or two.
Henry IV. Part I.
The followers2 of Peveril were so well accustomed to the sound of “Boot and Saddle,” that they were soon mounted and in order; and in all the form, and with some of the dignity of danger, proceeded to escort the Countess of Derby through the hilly and desert tract3 of country which connects the frontier of the shire with the neighbouring county of Cheshire. The cavalcade4 moved with considerable precaution, which they had been taught by the discipline of the Civil Wars. One wary5 and well-mounted trooper rode about two hundred yards in advance; followed, at about half that distance, by two more, with their carabines advanced, as if ready for action. About one hundred yards behind the advance, came the main body; where the Countess of Derby, mounted on Lady Peveril’s ambling6 palfrey (for her own had been exhausted7 by the journey from London to Martindale Castle), accompanied by one groom8, of approved fidelity9, and one waiting-maid, was attended and guarded by the Knight10 of the Peak, and three files of good and practised horsemen. In the rear came Whitaker, with Lance Outram, as men of especial trust, to whom the covering the retreat was confided11. They rode, as the Spanish proverb expresses it, “with the beard on the shoulder,” looking around, that is, from time to time, and using every precaution to have the speediest knowledge of any pursuit which might take place.
But, however wise in discipline, Peveril and his followers were somewhat remiss12 in civil policy. The Knight had communicated to Whitaker, though without any apparent necessity, the precise nature of their present expedition; and Whitaker was equally communicative to his comrade Lance, the keeper. “It is strange enough, Master Whitaker,” said the latter, when he had heard the case, “and I wish you, being a wise man, would expound13 it; — why, when we have been wishing for the King — and praying for the King — and fighting for the King — and dying for the King, for these twenty years, the first thing we find to do on his return, is to get into harness to resist his warrant?”
“Pooh! you silly fellow,” said Whitaker, “that is all you know of the true bottom of our quarrel! Why, man, we fought for the King’s person against his warrant, all along from the very beginning; for I remember the rogues’ proclamations, and so forth14, always ran in the name of the King and Parliament.”
“Ay! was it even so?” replied Lance. “Nay, then, if they begin the old game so soon again, and send out warrants in the King’s name against his loyal subjects, well fare our stout15 Knight, say I, who is ready to take them down in their stocking-soles. And if Bridgenorth takes the chase after us, I shall not be sorry to have a knock at him for one.”
“Why, the man, bating he is a pestilent Roundhead and Puritan,” said Whitaker, “is no bad neighbour. What has he done to thee, man?”
“He has poached on the manor,” answered the keeper.
“The devil he has!” replied Whitaker. “Thou must be jesting, Lance. Bridgenorth is neither hunter nor hawker; he hath not so much of honesty in him.”
“Ay, but he runs after game you little think of, with his sour, melancholy16 face, that would scare babes and curdle17 milk,” answered Lance.
“Thou canst not mean the wenches?” said Whitaker; “why, he hath been melancholy mad with moping for the death of his wife. Thou knowest our lady took the child, for fear he should strangle it for putting him in mind of its mother, in some of his tantrums. Under her favour, and among friends, there are many poor Cavaliers’ children, that care would be better bestowed18 upon — But to thy tale.”
“Why, thus it runs,” said Lance. “I think you may have noticed, Master Whitaker, that a certain Mistress Deborah hath manifested a certain favour for a certain person in a certain household.”
“For thyself, to wit,” answered Whitaker; “Lance Outram, thou art the vainest coxcomb19 ——”
“Coxcomb?” said Lance; “why, ’twas but last night the whole family saw her, as one would say, fling herself at my head.”
“I would she had been a brickbat then, to have broken it, for thy impertinence and conceit,” said the steward20.
“Well, but do but hearken. The next morning — that is, this very blessed morning — I thought of going to lodge21 a buck22 in the park, judging a bit of venison might be wanted in the larder23, after yesterday’s wassail; and, as I passed under the nursery window, I did but just look up to see what madam governante was about; and so I saw her, through the casement24, whip on her hood25 and scarf as soon as she had a glimpse of me. Immediately after I saw the still-room door open, and made sure she was coming through the garden, and so over the breach26 and down to the park; and so, thought I, ‘Aha, Mistress Deb, if you are so ready to dance after my pipe and tabor, I will give you a couranto before you shall come up with me.’ And so I went down Ivy-tod Dingle, where the copse is tangled27, and the ground swampy28, and round by Haxley-bottom, thinking all the while she was following, and laughing in my sleeve at the round I was giving her.”
“You deserved to be ducked for it,” said Whitaker, “for a weather-headed puppy; but what is all this Jack-a-lantern story to Bridgenorth?”
“Why, it was all along of he, man,” continued Lance, “that is, of Bridgenorth, that she did not follow me — Gad29, I first walked slow, and then stopped, and then turned back a little, and then began to wonder what she had made of herself, and to think I had borne myself something like a jackass in the matter.”
“That I deny,” said Whitaker, “never jackass but would have borne him better — but go on.”
“Why, turning my face towards the Castle, I went back as if I had my nose bleeding, when just by the Copely thorn, which stands, you know, a flight-short from the postern-gate, I saw Madam Deb in close conference with the enemy.”
“What enemy?” said the steward.
“What enemy! why, who but Bridgenorth? They kept out of sight, and among the copse; but, thought I, it is hard if I cannot stalk you, that have stalked so many bucks30. If so, I had better give my shafts31 to be pudding pins. So I cast round the thicket32, to watch their waters; and may I never bend crossbow again, if I did not see him give her gold, and squeeze her by the hand!”
“And was that all you saw pass between them?” said the steward.
“Faith, and it was enough to dismount me from my hobby,” said Lance. “What! when I thought I had the prettiest girl in the Castle dancing after my whistle, to find that she gave me the bag to hold, and was smuggling33 in a corner with a rich old Puritan!”
“Credit me, Lance, it is not as thou thinkest,” said Whitaker. “Bridgenorth cares not for these amorous34 toys, and thou thinkest of nothing else. But it is fitting our Knight should know that he has met with Deborah in secret, and given her gold; for never Puritan gave gold yet, but it was earnest for some devil’s work done, or to be done.”
“Nay, but,” said Lance, “I would not be such a dog-bolt as to go and betray the girl to our master. She hath a right to follow her fancy, as the dame35 said who kissed her cow — only I do not much approve her choice, that is all. He cannot be six years short of fifty; and a verjuice countenance36, under the penthouse of a slouched beaver37, and bag of meagre dried bones, swaddled up in a black cloak, is no such temptation, methinks.”
“I tell you once more,” said Whitaker, “you are mistaken; and that there neither is, nor can be, any matter of love between them, but only some intrigue38, concerning, perhaps, this same noble Countess of Derby. I tell thee, it behoves my master to know it, and I will presently tell it to him.”
So saying, and in spite of all the remonstrances39 which Lance continued to make on behalf of Mistress Deborah, the steward rode up to the main body of their little party, and mentioned to the Knight, and the Countess of Derby, what he had just heard from the keeper, adding at the same time his own suspicions, that Master Bridgenorth of Moultrassie Hall was desirous to keep up some system of espial in the Castle of Martindale, either in order to secure his menaced vengeance40 on the Countess of Derby, as authoress of his brother-inlaw’s death, or for some unknown, but probably sinister41 purpose.
The Knight of the Peak was filled with high resentment42 at Whitaker’s communication. According to his prejudices, those of the opposite faction43 were supposed to make up by wit and intrigue what they wanted in open force; and he now hastily conceived that his neighbour, whose prudence44 he always respected, and sometimes even dreaded45, was maintaining for his private purposes, a clandestine46 correspondence with a member of his family. If this was for the betrayal of his noble guest, it argued at once treachery and presumption47; or, viewing the whole as Lance had done, a criminal intrigue with a woman so near the person of Lady Peveril, was in itself, he deemed, a piece of sovereign impertinence and disrespect on the part of such a person as Bridgenorth, against whom Sir Geoffrey’s anger was kindled48 accordingly.
Whitaker had scarce regained49 his post in the rear, when he again quitted it, and galloped50 to the main body with more speed than before, with the unpleasing tidings that they were pursued by half a score of horseman, and better.
“Ride on briskly to Hartley-nick,” said the Knight, “and there, with God to help, we will bide51 the knaves52. — Countess of Derby — one word and a short one — Farewell! — you must ride forward with Whitaker and another careful fellow, and let me alone to see that no one treads on your skirts.”
“I will abide53 with you and stand them,” said the Countess; “you know of old, I fear not to look on man’s work.”
“You must ride on, madam,” said the Knight, “for the sake of the young Earl, and the rest of my noble friends’ family. There is no manly54 work which can be worth your looking upon; it is but child’s play that these fellows bring with them.”
As she yielded a reluctant consent to continue her flight, they reached the bottom of Hartley-nick, a pass very steep and craggy, and where the road, or rather path, which had hitherto passed over more open ground, became pent up and confined betwixt copsewood on the one side, and, on the other, the precipitous bank of a mountain stream.
The Countess of Derby, after an affectionate adieu to Sir Geoffrey, and having requested him to convey her kind commendations to her little page-elect and his mother, proceeded up the pass at a round pace, and with her attendants and escort, was soon out of sight. Immediately after she had disappeared, the pursuers came up with Sir Geoffrey Peveril, who had divided and drawn55 up his party so as completely to occupy the road at three different points.
The opposite party was led, as Sir Geoffrey had expected, by Major Bridgenorth. At his side was a person in black, with a silver greyhound on his arm; and he was followed by about eight or ten inhabitants of the village of Martindale Moultrassie, two or three of whom were officers of the peace, and others were personally known to Sir Geoffrey as favourers of the subverted56 government.
As the party rode briskly up, Sir Geoffrey called to them to halt; and as they continued advancing, he ordered his own people to present their pistols and carabines; and after assuming that menacing attitude, he repeated, with a voice of thunder, “Halt, or we fire!”
The other party halted accordingly, and Major Bridgenorth advanced, as if to parley57.
“Why, how now, neighbour,” said Sir Geoffrey, as if he had at that moment recognised him for the first time — “what makes you ride so sharp this morning? Are you not afraid to harm your horse, or spoil your spurs?”
“Sir Geoffrey,” said the Major, “I have not time for jesting — I’m on the King’s affairs.”
“Are you sure it is not upon Old Noll’s, neighbour? You used to hold his the better errand,” said the Knight, with a smile which gave occasion to a horse-laugh among his followers.
“Show him your warrant,” said Bridgenorth to the man in black formerly58 mentioned, who was a pursuivant. Then taking the warrant from the officer, he gave it to Sir Geoffrey —“To this, at least, you will pay regard.”
“The same regard which you would have paid to it a month back or so,” said the Knight, tearing the warrant to shreds59. —“What a plague do you stare at? Do you think you have a monopoly of rebellion, and that we have not a right to show a trick of disobedience in our turn?”
“Make way, Sir Geoffrey Peveril,” said Bridgenorth, “or you will compel me to do that I may be sorry for. I am in this matter the avenger60 of the blood of one of the Lord’s saints, and I will follow the chase while Heaven grants me an arm to make my way.”
“You shall make no way here but at your peril,” said Sir Geoffrey; “this is my ground — I have been harassed61 enough for these twenty years by saints, as you call yourselves. I tell you, master, you shall neither violate the security of my house, nor pursue my friends over the grounds, nor tamper62, as you have done, amongst my servants, with impunity63. I have had you in respect for certain kind doings, which I will not either forget or deny, and you will find it difficult to make me draw a sword or bend a pistol against you; but offer any hostile movement, or presume to advance a foot, and I will make sure of you presently. And for those rascals64, who come hither to annoy a noble lady on my bounds, unless you draw them off, I will presently send some of them to the devil before their time.”
“Make room at your proper peril,” said Major Bridgenorth; and he put his right hand on his holster-pistol. Sir Geoffrey closed with him instantly, seized him by the collar, and spurred Black Hastings, checking him at the same time, so that the horse made a courbette, and brought the full weight of his chest against the counter of the other. A ready soldier might, in Bridgenorth’s situation, have rid himself of his adversary65 with a bullet. But Bridgenorth’s courage, notwithstanding his having served some time with the Parliament army, was rather of a civil than a military character; and he was inferior to his adversary, not only in strength and horsemanship, but also and especially in the daring and decisive resolution which made Sir Geoffrey thrust himself readily into personal contest. While, therefore, they tugged66 and grappled together upon terms which bore such little accordance with their long acquaintance and close neighbourhood, it was no wonder that Bridgenorth should be unhorsed with much violence. While Sir Geoffrey sprung from the saddle, the party of Bridgenorth advanced to rescue their leader, and that of the Knight to oppose them. Swords were unsheathed, and pistols presented; but Sir Geoffrey, with the voice of a herald67, commanded both parties to stand back, and to keep the peace.
The pursuivant took the hint, and easily found a reason for not prosecuting68 a dangerous duty. “The warrant,” he said, “was destroyed. They that did it must be answerable to the Council; for his part, he could proceed no farther without his commission.”
“Well said, and like a peaceable fellow!” said Sir Geoffrey. —“Let him have refreshment69 at the Castle — his nag70 is sorely out of condition. — Come, neighbour Bridgenorth, get up, man — I trust you have had no hurt in this mad affray? I was loath71 to lay hand on you, man, till you plucked out your petronel.”
As he spoke72 thus, he aided the Major to rise. The pursuivant, meanwhile, drew aside; and with him the constable73 and head-borough, who were not without some tacit suspicion, that though Peveril was interrupting the direct course of law in this matter, yet he was likely to have his offence considered by favourable74 judges; and therefore it might be as much for their interest and safety to give way as to oppose him. But the rest of the party, friends of Bridgenorth, and of his principles, kept their ground notwithstanding this defection, and seemed, from their looks, sternly determined75 to rule their conduct by that of their leader, whatever it might be.
But it was evident that Bridgenorth did not intend to renew the struggle. He shook himself rather roughly free from the hands of Sir Geoffrey Peveril; but it was not to draw his sword. On the contrary, he mounted his horse with a sullen76 and dejected air; and, making a sign to his followers, turned back the same road which he had come. Sir Geoffrey looked after him for some minutes. “Now, there goes a man,” said he, “who would have been a right honest fellow had he not been a Presbyterian. But there is no heartiness77 about them — they can never forgive a fair fall upon the sod — they bear malice78, and that I hate as I do a black cloak, or a Geneva skull-cap, and a pair of long ears rising on each side on’t, like two chimneys at the gable ends of a thatched cottage. They are as sly as the devil to boot; and, therefore, Lance Outram, take two with you, and keep after them, that they may not turn our flank, and get on the track of the Countess again after all.”
“I had as soon they should course my lady’s white tame doe,” answered Lance, in the spirit of his calling. He proceeded to execute his master’s orders by dogging Major Bridgenorth at a distance, and observing his course from such heights as commanded the country. But it was soon evident that no manoeuvre79 was intended, and that the Major was taking the direct road homeward. When this was ascertained80, Sir Geoffrey dismissed most of his followers; and retaining only his own domestics, rode hastily forward to overtake the Countess.
It is only necessary to say farther, that he completed his purpose of escorting the Countess of Derby to Vale Royal, without meeting any further hindrance81 by the way. The lord of the mansion82 readily undertook to conduct the high-minded lady to Liverpool, and the task of seeing her safely embarked83 for her son’s hereditary84 dominions85, where there was no doubt of her remaining in personal safety until the accusation86 against her for breach of the Royal Indemnity87, by the execution of Christian88, could be brought to some compromise.
For a length of time this was no easy matter. Clarendon, then at the head of Charles’s administration, considered her rash action, though dictated89 by motives90 which the human breast must, in some respects, sympathise with, as calculated to shake the restored tranquillity91 of England, by exciting the doubts and jealousies92 of those who had to apprehend93 the consequences of what is called, in our own time, a reaction. At the same time, the high services of this distinguished94 family — the merits of the Countess herself — the memory of her gallant95 husband — and the very peculiar96 circumstances of jurisdiction97 which took the case out of all common rules, pleaded strongly in her favour; and the death of Christian was at length only punished by the imposition of a heavy fine, amounting, we believe, to many thousand pounds; which was levied98, with great difficulty, out of the shattered estates of the young Earl of Derby.
点击收听单词发音
1 fang | |
n.尖牙,犬牙 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 followers | |
追随者( follower的名词复数 ); 用户; 契据的附面; 从动件 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 tract | |
n.传单,小册子,大片(土地或森林) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 cavalcade | |
n.车队等的行列 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 wary | |
adj.谨慎的,机警的,小心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 ambling | |
v.(马)缓行( amble的现在分词 );从容地走,漫步 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 groom | |
vt.给(马、狗等)梳毛,照料,使...整洁 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 knight | |
n.骑士,武士;爵士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 confided | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的过去式和过去分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 remiss | |
adj.不小心的,马虎 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 expound | |
v.详述;解释;阐述 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 curdle | |
v.使凝结,变稠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 coxcomb | |
n.花花公子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 steward | |
n.乘务员,服务员;看管人;膳食管理员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 lodge | |
v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 buck | |
n.雄鹿,雄兔;v.马离地跳跃 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 larder | |
n.食物贮藏室,食品橱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 casement | |
n.竖铰链窗;窗扉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 hood | |
n.头巾,兜帽,覆盖;v.罩上,以头巾覆盖 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 breach | |
n.违反,不履行;破裂;vt.冲破,攻破 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 tangled | |
adj. 纠缠的,紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 swampy | |
adj.沼泽的,湿地的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 gad | |
n.闲逛;v.闲逛 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 bucks | |
n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 );钱;(英国十九世纪初的)花花公子;(用于某些表达方式)责任v.(马等)猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 );抵制;猛然震荡;马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 shafts | |
n.轴( shaft的名词复数 );(箭、高尔夫球棒等的)杆;通风井;一阵(疼痛、害怕等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 thicket | |
n.灌木丛,树林 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 smuggling | |
n.走私 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 amorous | |
adj.多情的;有关爱情的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 dame | |
n.女士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 beaver | |
n.海狸,河狸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 intrigue | |
vt.激起兴趣,迷住;vi.耍阴谋;n.阴谋,密谋 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 remonstrances | |
n.抱怨,抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 faction | |
n.宗派,小集团;派别;派系斗争 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 dreaded | |
adj.令人畏惧的;害怕的v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 clandestine | |
adj.秘密的,暗中从事的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 presumption | |
n.推测,可能性,冒昧,放肆,[法律]推定 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 kindled | |
(使某物)燃烧,着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 ); 激起(感情等); 发亮,放光 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 regained | |
复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 galloped | |
(使马)飞奔,奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 ); 快速做[说]某事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 bide | |
v.忍耐;等候;住 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 knaves | |
n.恶棍,无赖( knave的名词复数 );(纸牌中的)杰克 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 abide | |
vi.遵守;坚持;vt.忍受 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 subverted | |
v.颠覆,破坏(政治制度、宗教信仰等)( subvert的过去式和过去分词 );使(某人)道德败坏或不忠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 parley | |
n.谈判 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 shreds | |
v.撕碎,切碎( shred的第三人称单数 );用撕毁机撕毁(文件) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 avenger | |
n. 复仇者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 harassed | |
adj. 疲倦的,厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 tamper | |
v.干预,玩弄,贿赂,窜改,削弱,损害 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 impunity | |
n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 rascals | |
流氓( rascal的名词复数 ); 无赖; (开玩笑说法)淘气的人(尤指小孩); 恶作剧的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 adversary | |
adj.敌手,对手 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 tugged | |
v.用力拉,使劲拉,猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 herald | |
vt.预示...的来临,预告,宣布,欢迎 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 prosecuting | |
检举、告发某人( prosecute的现在分词 ); 对某人提起公诉; 继续从事(某事物); 担任控方律师 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 refreshment | |
n.恢复,精神爽快,提神之事物;(复数)refreshments:点心,茶点 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 nag | |
v.(对…)不停地唠叨;n.爱唠叨的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 loath | |
adj.不愿意的;勉强的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 constable | |
n.(英国)警察,警官 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 sullen | |
adj.愠怒的,闷闷不乐的,(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 heartiness | |
诚实,热心 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 malice | |
n.恶意,怨恨,蓄意;[律]预谋 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 manoeuvre | |
n.策略,调动;v.用策略,调动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 ascertained | |
v.弄清,确定,查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 hindrance | |
n.妨碍,障碍 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 mansion | |
n.大厦,大楼;宅第 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 embarked | |
乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 ); 装载; 从事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 dominions | |
统治权( dominion的名词复数 ); 领土; 疆土; 版图 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 accusation | |
n.控告,指责,谴责 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 indemnity | |
n.赔偿,赔款,补偿金 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
89 dictated | |
v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
90 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
91 tranquillity | |
n. 平静, 安静 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
92 jealousies | |
n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 );妒羡 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
93 apprehend | |
vt.理解,领悟,逮捕,拘捕,忧虑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
94 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
95 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
96 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
97 jurisdiction | |
n.司法权,审判权,管辖权,控制权 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
98 levied | |
征(兵)( levy的过去式和过去分词 ); 索取; 发动(战争); 征税 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |