Frisking and mumming like an elf in moonlight!
BEN JONSON.
Peveril found the master of the vessel1 rather less rude than those in his station of life usually are, and received from him full satisfaction concerning the fate of Fenella, upon whom the captain bestowed2 a hearty3 curse, for obliging him to lay-to until he had sent his boat ashore4, and had her back again.
“I hope,” said Peveril, “no violence was necessary to reconcile her to go ashore? I trust she offered no foolish resistance?”
“Resist! mein Gott,” said the captain, “she did resist like a troop of horse — she did cry, you might hear her at Whitehaven — she did go up the rigging like a cat up a chimney; but dat vas ein trick of her old trade.”
“What trade do you mean?” said Peveril.
“Oh,” said the seaman5, “I vas know more about her than you, Meinheer. I vas know that she vas a little, very little girl, and prentice to one seiltanzer, when my lady yonder had the good luck to buy her.”
“A seiltanzer!” said Peveril; “what do you mean by that?”
“I mean a rope-danzer, a mountebank6, a Hans pickel-harring. I vas know Adrian Brackel vell — he sell de powders dat empty men’s stomach, and fill him’s own purse. Not know Adrian Brackel, mein Gott! I have smoked many a pound of tabak with him.”
Peveril now remembered that Fenella had been brought into the family when he and the young Earl were in England, and while the Countess was absent on an expedition to the continent. Where the Countess found her, she never communicated to the young men; but only intimated, that she had received her out of compassion7, in order to relieve her from a situation of extreme distress8.
He hinted so much to the communicative seaman, who replied, “that for distress he knew nocht’s on’t; only, that Adrian Brackel beat her when she would not dance on the rope, and starved her when she did, to prevent her growth.” The bargain between the countess and the mountebank, he said, he had made himself; because the Countess had hired his brig upon her expedition to the continent. None else knew where she came from. The Countess had seen her on a public stage at Ostend — compassionated9 her helpless situation, and the severe treatment she received — and had employed him to purchase the poor creature from her master, and charged him with silence towards all her retinue10. —“And so I do keep silence,” continued the faithful confidant, “van I am in the havens11 of Man; but when I am on the broad seas, den12 my tongue is mine own, you know. Die foolish beoples in the island, they say she is a wechsel-balg — what you call a fairy-elf changeling. My faith, they do not never have seen ein wechsel-balg; for I saw one myself at Cologne, and it was twice as big as yonder girl, and did break the poor people, with eating them up, like de great big cuckoo in the sparrow’s nest; but this Venella eat no more than other girls — it was no wechsel-balg in the world.”
By a different train of reasoning, Julian had arrived at the same conclusion; in which, therefore, he heartily13 acquiesced14. During the seaman’s prosing, he was reflecting within himself, how much of the singular flexibility15 of her limbs and movements the unfortunate girl must have derived16 from the discipline and instructions of Adrian Brackel; and also how far the germs of her wilful17 and capricious passions might have been sown during her wandering and adventurous18 childhood. Aristocratic, also, as his education had been, these anecdotes19 respecting Fenella’s original situation and education, rather increased his pleasure of having shaken off her company; and yet he still felt desirous to know any farther particulars which the seaman could communicate on the same subject. But he had already told all he knew. Of her parents he knew nothing, except that “her father must have been a damned hundsfoot, and a schelm, for selling his own flesh and blood to Adrian Brackel;” for by such a transaction had the mountebank become possessed20 of his pupil.
This conversation tended to remove any passing doubts which might have crept on Peveril’s mind concerning the fidelity21 of the master of the vessel, who appeared from thence to have been a former acquaintance of the Countess, and to have enjoyed some share of her confidence. The threatening motion used by Fenella, he no longer considered as worthy22 of any notice, excepting as a new mark of the irritability23 of her temper.
He amused himself with walking the deck, and musing24 on his past and future prospects25, until his attention was forcibly arrested by the wind, which began to rise in gusts26 from the north-west, in a manner so unfavourable to the course they intended to hold, that the master, after many efforts to beat against it, declared his bark, which was by no means an excellent sea-boat, was unequal to making Whitehaven; and that he was compelled to make a fair wind of it, and run for Liverpool. To this course Peveril did not object. It saved him some land journey, in case he visited his father’s castle; and the Countess’s commission would be discharged as effectually the one way as the other.
The vessel was put, accordingly, before the wind, and ran with great steadiness and velocity27. The captain, notwithstanding, pleading some nautical28 hazards, chose to lie off, and did not attempt the mouth of the Mersey until morning, when Peveril had at length the satisfaction of being landed upon the quay29 of Liverpool, which even then showed symptoms of the commercial prosperity that has since been carried to such a height.
The master, who was well acquainted with the port, pointed30 out to Julian a decent place of entertainment, chiefly frequented by seafaring people; for, although he had been in the town formerly31, he did not think it proper to go anywhere at present where he might have been unnecessarily recognised. Here he took leave of the seaman, after pressing upon him with difficulty a small present for his crew. As for his passage, the captain declined any recompense whatever; and they parted upon the most civil terms.
The inn to which he was recommended was full of strangers, seamen32, and mercantile people, all intent upon their own affairs, and discussing them with noise and eagerness, peculiar33 to the business of a thriving seaport34. But although the general clamour of the public room, in which the guests mixed with each other, related chiefly to their own commercial dealings, there was a general theme mingling35 with them, which was alike common and interesting to all; so that, amidst disputes about freight, tonnage, demurrage36, and such like, were heard the emphatic37 sounds of “Deep, damnable, accursed plot,”—“Bloody Papist villains,”—“The King in danger — the gallows38 too good for them,” and so forth39.
The fermentation excited in London had plainly reached even this remote seaport, and was received by the inhabitants with the peculiar stormy energy which invests men in their situation with the character of the winds and waves with which they are chiefly conversant40. The commercial and nautical interests of England were indeed particularly anti-Catholic; although it is not, perhaps, easy to give any distinct reason why they should be so, since theological disputes in general could scarce be considered as interesting to them. But zeal41, amongst the lower orders at least, is often in an inverse42 ratio to knowledge; and sailors were not probably the less earnest and devoted43 Protestants, that they did not understand the controversy44 between the Churches. As for the merchants, they were almost necessarily inimical to the gentry45 of Lancashire and Cheshire; many of whom still retained the faith of Rome, which was rendered ten times more odious46 to the men of commerce, as the badge of their haughty47 aristocratic neighbours.
From the little which Peveril heard of the sentiments of the people of Liverpool, he imagined he should act most prudently48 in leaving the place as soon as possible, and before any suspicion should arise of his having any connection with the party which appeared to have become so obnoxious49.
In order to accomplish his journey, it was first necessary that he should purchase a horse; and for this purpose he resolved to have recourse to the stables of a dealer50 well known at the time, and who dwelt in the outskirts51 of the place; and having obtained directions to his dwelling52, he went thither53 to provide himself.
Joe Bridlesley’s stables exhibited a large choice of good horses; for that trade was in former days more active than at present. It was an ordinary thing for a stranger to buy a horse for the purpose of a single journey, and to sell him, as well as he could, when he had reached the point of his destination; and hence there was a constant demand, and a corresponding supply; upon both of which, Bridlesley, and those of his trade, contrived55, doubtless, to make handsome profits.
Julian, who was no despicable horse-jockey, selected for his purpose a strong well-made horse, about sixteen hands high, and had him led into the yard, to see whether the paces corresponded with his appearance. As these also gave perfect satisfaction to the customer, it remained only to settle the price with Bridlesley; who of course swore his customer had pitched upon the best horse ever darkened the stable-door, since he had dealt that way; that no such horses were to be had nowadays, for that the mares were dead that foaled them; and having named a corresponding price, the usual haggling56 commenced betwixt the seller and purchaser, for adjustment of what the French dealers57 call le prix juste.
The reader, if he be at all acquainted with this sort of traffic, well knows it is generally a keen encounter of wits, and attracts the notice of all the idlers within hearing, who are usually very ready to offer their opinions, or their evidence. Amongst these, upon the present occasion, was a thin man, rather less than the ordinary size, and meanly dressed; but whose interference was in a confident tone, and such as showed himself master of the subject on which he spoke58. The price of the horse being settled to about fifteen pounds, which was very high for the period, that of the saddle and bridle54 had next to be adjusted, and the thin mean-looking person before-mentioned, found nearly as much to say on this subject as on the other. As his remarks had a conciliating and obliging tendency towards the stranger, Peveril concluded he was one of those idle persons, who, unable or unwilling59 to supply themselves with the means of indulgence at their own cost, do not scruple60 to deserve them at the hands of others, by a little officious complaisance61; and considering that he might acquire some useful information from such a person, was just about to offer him the courtesy of a morning draught62, when he observed he had suddenly left the yard. He had scarce remarked this circumstance, before a party of customers entered the place, whose haughty assumption of importance claimed the instant attention of Bridlesley, and all his militia63 of grooms64 and stable-boys.
“Three good horses,” said the leader of the party, a tall bulky man, whose breath was drawn65 full and high, under a consciousness of fat, and of importance —“three good and able-bodied horses, for the service of the Commons of England.”
Bridlesley said he had some horses which might serve the Speaker himself at need; but that, to speak Christian66 truth, he had just sold the best in his stable to that gentleman present, who, doubtless, would give up the bargain if the horse was needed for the service of the State.
“You speak well, friend,” said the important personage; and advancing to Julian, demanded, in a very haughty tone, the surrender of the purchase which he had just made.
Peveril, with some difficulty, subdued67 the strong desire which he felt to return a round refusal to so unreasonable68 a request, but fortunately, recollecting69 that the situation in which he at present stood, required, on his part, much circumspection70, he replied simply, that upon showing him any warrant to seize upon horses for the public service, he must of course submit to resign his purchase.
The man, with an air of extreme dignity, pulled from his pocket, and thrust into Peveril’s hand, a warrant, subscribed71 by the Speaker of the House of Commons, empowering Charles Topham, their officer of the Black Rod, to pursue and seize upon the persons of certain individuals named in the warrant; and of all other persons who are, or should be, accused by competent witnesses, of being accessory to, or favourers of, the hellish and damnable Popish Plot, at present carried on within the bowels72 of the kingdom; and charging all men, as they loved their allegiance, to render the said Charles Topham their readiest and most effective assistance, in execution of the duty entrusted73 to his care.
On perusing74 a document of such weighty import, Julian had no hesitation75 to give up his horse to this formidable functionary76; whom somebody compared to a lion, which, as the House of Commons was pleased to maintain such an animal, they were under the necessity of providing for by frequent commitments; until “Take him, Topham,” became a proverb, and a formidable one, in the mouth of the public.
The acquiescence77 of Peveril procured78 him some grace in the sight of the emissary; who, before selecting two horses for his attendants, gave permission to the stranger to purchase a grey horse, much inferior, indeed, to that which he had resigned, both in form and in action, but very little lower in price, as Mr. Bridlesley, immediately on learning the demand for horses upon the part of the Commons of England, had passed a private resolution in his own mind, augmenting79 the price of his whole stud, by an imposition of at least twenty per cent., ad valorem.
Peveril adjusted and paid the price with much less argument than on the former occasion; for, to be plain with the reader, he had noticed in the warrant of Mr. Topham, the name of his father, Sir Geoffrey Peveril of Martindale Castle, engrossed80 at full length, as one of those subjected to arrest by that officer.
When aware of this material fact, it became Julian’s business to leave Liverpool directly, and carry the alarm to Derbyshire, if, indeed, Mr. Topham had not already executed his charge in that county, which he thought unlikely, as it was probable they would commence by securing those who lived nearest to the seaports81. A word or two which he overheard strengthened his hopes.
“And hark ye, friend,” said Mr. Topham; “you will have the horses at the door of Mr. Shortell, the mercer, in two hours, as we shall refresh ourselves there with a cool tankard, and learn what folks live in the neighbourhood that may be concerned in my way. And you will please to have that saddle padded, for I am told the Derbyshire roads are rough. — And you, Captain Dangerfield, and Master Everett, you must put on your Protestant spectacles, and show me where there is the shadow of a priest, or of a priest’s favourer; for I am come down with a broom in my cap to sweep this north country of such like cattle.”
One of the persons he thus addressed, who wore the garb82 of a broken-down citizen, only answered, “Ay, truly, Master Topham, it is time to purge83 the garner84.”
The other, who had a formidable pair of whiskers, a red nose, and a tarnished85 laced coat, together with a hat of Pistol’s dimensions, was more loquacious86. “I take it on my damnation,” said this zealous87 Protestant witness, “that I will discover the marks of the beast on every one of them betwixt sixteen and seventy, as plainly as if they had crossed themselves with ink, instead of holy water. Since we have a King willing to do justice, and a House of Commons to uphold prosecutions88, why, damn me, the cause must not stand still for lack of evidence.”
“Stick to that, noble captain,” answered the officer; “but, prithee, reserve thy oaths for the court of justice; it is but sheer waste to throw them away, as you do in your ordinary conversation.”
“Fear you nothing, Master Topham,” answered Dangerfield; “it is right to keep a man’s gifts in use; and were I altogether to renounce89 oaths in my private discourse90, how should I know how to use one when I needed it? But you hear me use none of your Papist abjurations. I swear not by the mass, or before George, or by anything that belongs to idolatry; but such downright oaths as may serve a poor Protestant gentleman, who would fain serve Heaven and the King.”
“Bravely spoken, most noble Festus,” said his yoke-fellow. “But do not suppose, that although I am not in the habit of garnishing91 my words with oaths out of season, I shall be wanting, when called upon, to declare the height and the depth, the width and the length, of this hellish plot against the King and the Protestant faith.”
Dizzy, and almost sick, with listening to the undisguised brutality92 of these fellows, Peveril, having with difficulty prevailed on Bridlesley to settle his purchase, at length led forth his grey steed; but was scarce out of the yard, when he heard the following alarming conversation pass, of which he seemed himself the object.
“Who is that youth?” said the slow soft voice of the more precise of the two witnesses. “Methinks I have seen him somewhere before. Is he from these parts?”
“Not that I know of,” said Bridlesley; who, like all the other inhabitants of England at the time, answered the interrogatories of these fellows with the deference93 which is paid in Spain to the questions of an inquisitor. “A stranger — entirely94 a stranger — never saw him before — a wild young colt, I warrant him; and knows a horse’s mouth as well as I do.”
“I begin to bethink me I saw such a face as his at the Jesuits’ consult, in the White Horse Tavern,” answered Everett.
“And I think I recollect,” said Captain Dangerfield ——
“Come, come, master and captain,” said the authoritative95 voice of Topham, “we will have none of your recollections at present. We all know what these are likely to end in. But I will have you know, you are not to run till the leash96 is slipped. The young man is a well-looking lad, and gave up his horse handsomely for the service of the House of Commons. He knows how to behave himself to his betters, I warrant you; and I scarce think he has enough in his purse to pay the fees.”
This speech concluded the dialogue, which Peveril, finding himself so much concerned in the issue, thought it best to hear to an end. Now, when it ceased, to get out of the town unobserved, and take the nearest way to his father’s castle, seemed his wisest plan. He had settled his reckoning at the inn, and brought with him to Bridlesley’s the small portmanteau which contained his few necessaries, so that he had no occasion to return thither. He resolved, therefore, to ride some miles before he stopped, even for the purpose of feeding his horse; and being pretty well acquainted with the country, he hoped to be able to push forward to Martindale Castle sooner than the worshipful Master Topham; whose saddle was, in the first place, to be padded, and who, when mounted, would, in all probability, ride with the precaution of those who require such security against the effects of a hard trot97.
Under the influence of these feelings, Julian pushed for Warrington, a place with which he was well acquainted; but, without halting in the town, he crossed the Mersey, by the bridge built by an ancestor of his friend the Earl of Derby, and continued his route towards Dishley, on the borders of Derbyshire. He might have reached this latter village easily, had his horse been fitter for a forced march; but in the course of the journey, he had occasion, more than once, to curse the official dignity of the person who had robbed him of his better steed, while taking the best direction he could through a country with which he was only generally acquainted.
At length, near Altringham, a halt became unavoidable; and Peveril had only to look for some quiet and sequestered98 place of refreshment99. This presented itself, in the form of a small cluster of cottages; the best of which united the characters of an alehouse and a mill, where the sign of the Cat (the landlord’s faithful ally in defence of his meal-sacks), booted as high as Grimalkin in the fairy tale, and playing on the fiddle100 for the more grace, announced that John Whitecraft united the two honest occupations of landlord and miller101; and, doubtless, took toll102 from the public in both capacities.
Such a place promised a traveller, who journeyed incognito103, safer, if not better accommodation, than he was like to meet with in more frequented inns; and at the door of the Cat and Fiddle, Julian halted accordingly.
点击收听单词发音
1 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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2 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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3 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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4 ashore | |
adv.在(向)岸上,上岸 | |
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5 seaman | |
n.海员,水手,水兵 | |
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6 mountebank | |
n.江湖郎中;骗子 | |
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7 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
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8 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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9 compassionated | |
v.同情(compassionate的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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10 retinue | |
n.侍从;随员 | |
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11 havens | |
n.港口,安全地方( haven的名词复数 )v.港口,安全地方( haven的第三人称单数 ) | |
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12 den | |
n.兽穴;秘密地方;安静的小房间,私室 | |
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13 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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14 acquiesced | |
v.默认,默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15 flexibility | |
n.柔韧性,弹性,(光的)折射性,灵活性 | |
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16 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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17 wilful | |
adj.任性的,故意的 | |
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18 adventurous | |
adj.爱冒险的;惊心动魄的,惊险的,刺激的 | |
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19 anecdotes | |
n.掌故,趣闻,轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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20 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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21 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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22 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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23 irritability | |
n.易怒 | |
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24 musing | |
n. 沉思,冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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25 prospects | |
n.希望,前途(恒为复数) | |
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26 gusts | |
一阵强风( gust的名词复数 ); (怒、笑等的)爆发; (感情的)迸发; 发作 | |
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27 velocity | |
n.速度,速率 | |
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28 nautical | |
adj.海上的,航海的,船员的 | |
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29 quay | |
n.码头,靠岸处 | |
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30 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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31 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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32 seamen | |
n.海员 | |
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33 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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34 seaport | |
n.海港,港口,港市 | |
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35 mingling | |
adj.混合的 | |
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36 demurrage | |
n.滞期费,逾期费 | |
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37 emphatic | |
adj.强调的,着重的;无可置疑的,明显的 | |
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38 gallows | |
n.绞刑架,绞台 | |
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39 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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40 conversant | |
adj.亲近的,有交情的,熟悉的 | |
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41 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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42 inverse | |
adj.相反的,倒转的,反转的;n.相反之物;v.倒转 | |
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43 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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44 controversy | |
n.争论,辩论,争吵 | |
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45 gentry | |
n.绅士阶级,上层阶级 | |
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46 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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47 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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48 prudently | |
adv. 谨慎地,慎重地 | |
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49 obnoxious | |
adj.极恼人的,讨人厌的,可憎的 | |
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50 dealer | |
n.商人,贩子 | |
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51 outskirts | |
n.郊外,郊区 | |
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52 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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53 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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54 bridle | |
n.笼头,束缚;vt.抑制,约束;动怒 | |
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55 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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56 haggling | |
v.讨价还价( haggle的现在分词 ) | |
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57 dealers | |
n.商人( dealer的名词复数 );贩毒者;毒品贩子;发牌者 | |
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58 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 | |
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59 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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60 scruple | |
n./v.顾忌,迟疑 | |
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61 complaisance | |
n.彬彬有礼,殷勤,柔顺 | |
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62 draught | |
n.拉,牵引,拖;一网(饮,吸,阵);顿服药量,通风;v.起草,设计 | |
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63 militia | |
n.民兵,民兵组织 | |
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64 grooms | |
n.新郎( groom的名词复数 );马夫v.照料或梳洗(马等)( groom的第三人称单数 );使做好准备;训练;(给动物)擦洗 | |
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65 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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66 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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67 subdued | |
adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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68 unreasonable | |
adj.不讲道理的,不合情理的,过度的 | |
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69 recollecting | |
v.记起,想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
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70 circumspection | |
n.细心,慎重 | |
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71 subscribed | |
v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 );签署,题词;订阅;同意 | |
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72 bowels | |
n.肠,内脏,内部;肠( bowel的名词复数 );内部,最深处 | |
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73 entrusted | |
v.委托,托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74 perusing | |
v.读(某篇文字)( peruse的现在分词 );(尤指)细阅;审阅;匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览(某篇文字) | |
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75 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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76 functionary | |
n.官员;公职人员 | |
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77 acquiescence | |
n.默许;顺从 | |
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78 procured | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
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79 augmenting | |
使扩张 | |
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80 engrossed | |
adj.全神贯注的 | |
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81 seaports | |
n.海港( seaport的名词复数 ) | |
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82 garb | |
n.服装,装束 | |
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83 purge | |
n.整肃,清除,泻药,净化;vt.净化,清除,摆脱;vi.清除,通便,腹泻,变得清洁 | |
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84 garner | |
v.收藏;取得 | |
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85 tarnished | |
(通常指金属)(使)失去光泽,(使)变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 ); 玷污,败坏 | |
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86 loquacious | |
adj.多嘴的,饶舌的 | |
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87 zealous | |
adj.狂热的,热心的 | |
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88 prosecutions | |
起诉( prosecution的名词复数 ); 原告; 实施; 从事 | |
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89 renounce | |
v.放弃;拒绝承认,宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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90 discourse | |
n.论文,演说;谈话;话语;vi.讲述,著述 | |
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91 garnishing | |
v.给(上餐桌的食物)加装饰( garnish的现在分词 ) | |
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92 brutality | |
n.野蛮的行为,残忍,野蛮 | |
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93 deference | |
n.尊重,顺从;敬意 | |
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94 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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95 authoritative | |
adj.有权威的,可相信的;命令式的;官方的 | |
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96 leash | |
n.牵狗的皮带,束缚;v.用皮带系住 | |
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97 trot | |
n.疾走,慢跑;n.老太婆;现成译本;(复数)trots:腹泻(与the 连用);v.小跑,快步走,赶紧 | |
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98 sequestered | |
adj.扣押的;隐退的;幽静的;偏僻的v.使隔绝,使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 );扣押 | |
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99 refreshment | |
n.恢复,精神爽快,提神之事物;(复数)refreshments:点心,茶点 | |
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100 fiddle | |
n.小提琴;vi.拉提琴;不停拨弄,乱动 | |
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101 miller | |
n.磨坊主 | |
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102 toll | |
n.过路(桥)费;损失,伤亡人数;v.敲(钟) | |
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103 incognito | |
adv.匿名地;n.隐姓埋名;adj.化装的,用假名的,隐匿姓名身份的 | |
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