The greatest number of minds seem utterly9 incapable10 of fixing on any conclusion, except from the pressure of custom and authority: opposed to these there is another class less numerous but pretty formidable, who in all their opinions are equally under the influence of novelty and restless vanity. The prejudices of the one are counterbalanced by the paradoxes of the other; and folly11, ‘putting in one scale a weight of ignorance, in that of pride,’ might be said to ‘smile delighted with the eternal poise12.’ A sincere and manly13 spirit of inquiry14 is neither blinded by example nor dazzled by sudden flashes of light. Nature is always the same, the storehouse of lasting15 truth, and teeming16 with inexhaustible variety; and he who looks at her with steady and well-practised eyes will find enough to employ all his sagacity, whether it has or has not been seen by others before him. Strange as it may seem, to learn what an object is, the true philosopher looks at the object itself, instead of turning to others to know what they think or say or have heard of it, or instead of consulting the dictates17 of his vanity, petulance18, and ingenuity19 to see what can be said against their opinion, and to prove himself wiser than all the rest of the world. For want of this the real powers and resources of the mind are lost and dissipated in a conflict of opinions and passions, of obstinacy20 against levity21, of bigotry22 against self-conceit, of notorious abuses against rash innovations, of dull, plodding23, old-fashioned stupidity against new-fangled folly, of worldly interest against headstrong egotism, of the incorrigible24 prejudices of the old and the unmanageable humours of the young; while truth lies in the middle, and is overlooked by both parties. Or as Luther complained long ago, ‘human reason is like a drunken man on horseback: set it up on one side, and it tumbles over on the other.’— With one sort, example, authority, fashion, ease, interest, rule all: with the other, singularity, the love of distinction, mere whim25, the throwing off all restraint and showing an heroic disregard of consequences, an impatient and unsettled turn of mind, the want of sudden and strong excitement, of some new play-thing for the imagination, are equally ‘lords of the ascendant,’ and are at every step getting the start of reason, truth, nature, common sense, and feeling. With one party, whatever is, is right: with their antagonists26, whatever is, is wrong. These swallow every antiquated27 absurdity28: those catch at every new, unfledged project — and are alike enchanted29 with the velocipedes or the French Revolution. One set, wrapped up in impenetrable forms and technical traditions, are deaf to everything that has not been dinned30 in their ears, and in those of their forefathers31, from time immemorial: their hearing is thick with the same old saws, the same unmeaning form of words, everlastingly33 repeated: the others pique34 themselves on a jargon35 of their own, a Babylonish dialect, crude, unconcocted, harsh, discordant36, to which it is impossible for any one else to attach either meaning or respect. These last turn away at the mention of all usages, creeds38, institutions of more than a day’s standing39 as a mass of bigotry, superstition40, and barbarous ignorance, whose leaden touch would petrify41 and benumb their quick, mercurial42, ‘apprehensive, forgetive’ faculties43. The opinion of today supersedes44 that of yesterday: that of tomorrow supersedes, by anticipation45, that of today. The wisdom of the ancients, the doctrines46 of the learned, the laws of nations, the common sentiments of morality, are to them like a bundle of old almanacs. As the modern politician always asks for this day’s paper, the modern sciolist always inquires after the latest paradox. With him instinct is a dotard, nature a changeling, and common sense a discarded by-word. As with the man of the world, what everybody says must be true, the citizen of the world has quite a different notion of the matter. With the one, the majority; ‘the powers that be’ have always been in the right in all ages and places, though they have been cutting one another’s throats and turning the world upside down with their quarrels and disputes from the beginning of time: with the other, what any two people have ever agreed in is an error on the face of it. The credulous47 bigot shudders48 at the idea of altering anything in ‘time-hallowed’ institutions; and under this cant49 phrase can bring himself to tolerate any knavery50 or any folly, the Inquisition, Holy Oil, the Right Divine, etc.; — the more refined sceptic will laugh in your face at the idea of retaining anything which has the damning stamp of custom upon it, and is for abating51 all former precedents52, ‘all trivial, fond records,’ the whole frame and fabric53 of society as a nuisance in the lump. Is not this a pair of wiseacres well matched? The one stickles through thick and thin for his own religion and government: the other scouts54 all religions and all governments with a smile of ineffable55 disdain56. The one will not move for any consideration out of the broad and beaten path: the other is continually turning off at right angles, and losing himself in the labyrinths57 of his own ignorance and presumption58. The one will not go along with any party: the other always joins the strongest side. The one will not conform to any common practice: the other will subscribe59 to any thriving system. The one is the slave of habit: the other is the sport of caprice. The first is like a man obstinately61 bed-rid: the last is troubled with St. Vitus’s dance. He cannot stand still, he cannot rest upon any conclusion. ‘He never is — but always to be right.’
The author of the Prometheus Unbound (to take an individual instance of the last character) has a fire in his eye, a fever in his blood, a maggot in his brain, a hectic62 flutter in his speech, which mark out the philosophic64 fanatic65. He is sanguine66-complexioned and shrill-voiced. As is often observable in the case of religious enthusiasts67, there is a slenderness of constitutional stamina68, which renders the flesh no match for the spirit. His bending, flexible form appears to take no strong hold of things, does not grapple with the world about him, but slides from it like a river —
And in its liquid texture69 mortal wound
Receives no more than can the fluid air.
The shock of accident, the weight of authority make no impression on his opinions, which retire like a feather, or rise from the encounter unhurt through their own buoyancy. He is clogged70 by no dull system of realities, no earth-bound feelings, no rooted prejudices, by nothing that belongs to the mighty71 trunk and hard husk of nature and habit, but is drawn72 up by irresistible73 levity to the regions of mere speculation74 and fancy, to the sphere of air and fire, where his delighted spirit floats in ‘seas of pearl and clouds of amber75.’ There is no caput mortuum of worn-out, threadbare experience to serve as ballast to his mind; it is all volatile76 intellectual salt of tartar, that refuses to combine its evanescent, inflammable essence with anything solid or anything lasting. Bubbles are to him the only realities:— touch them, and they vanish. Curiosity is the only proper category of his mind, and though a man in knowledge, he is a child in feeling. Hence he puts everything into a metaphysical crucible77 to judge of it himself and exhibit it to others as a subject of interesting experiment, without first making it over to the ordeal78 of his common sense or trying it on his heart. This faculty79 of speculating at random80 on all questions may in its overgrown and uninformed state do much mischief81 without intending it, like an overgrown child with the power of a man. Mr. Shelley has been accused of vanity — I think he is chargeable with extreme levity; but this levity is so great that I do not believe he is sensible of its consequences. He strives to overturn all established creeds and systems; but this is in him an effect of constitution. He runs before the most extravagant opinions; but this is because he is held back by none of the merely mechanical checks of sympathy and habit. He tampers82 with all sorts of obnoxious83 subjects; but it is less because he is gratified with the rankness of the taint84 than captivated with the intellectual phosphoric light they emit. It would seem that he wished not so much to convince or inform as to shock the public by the tenor85 of his productions; but I suspect he is more intent upon startling himself with his electrical experiments in morals and philosophy; and though they may scorch86 other people, they are to him harmless amusements, the coruscations of an Aurora87 Borealis, that ‘play round the head, but do not reach the heart.’ Still I could wish that he would put a stop to the incessant88, alarming whirl of his voltaic battery. With his zeal89, his talent, and his fancy, he would do more good and less harm if he were to give, up his wilder theories, and if he took less pleasure in feeling his heart flutter in unison90 with the panic-struck apprehensions91 of his readers. Persons of this class, instead of consolidating93 useful and acknowledged truths, and thus advancing the cause of science and virtue94, are never easy but in raising doubtful and disagreeable questions, which bring the former into disgrace and discredit95. They are not contented96 to lead the minds of men to an eminence97 overlooking the prospect98 of social amelioration, unless, by forcing them up slippery paths and to the utmost verge99 of possibility, they can dash them down the precipice100 the instant they reach the promised Pisgah. They think it nothing to hang up a beacon101 to guide or warn, if they do not at the same time frighten the community like a comet. They do not mind making their principles odious102, provided they can make themselves notorious. To win over the public opinion by fair means is to them an insipid103, common-place mode of popularity: they would either force it by harsh methods, or seduce104 it by intoxicating105 potions. Egotism, petulance, licentiousness106, levity of principle (whatever be the source) is a bad thing in any one, and most of all in a philosophical107 reformer. Their humanity, their wisdom, is always ‘at the horizon.’ Anything new, anything remote, anything questionable108, comes to them in a shape that is sure of a cordial welcome — a welcome cordial in proportion as the object is new, as it is apparently109 impracticable, as it is a doubt whether it is at all desirable. Just after the final failure, the completion of the last act of the French Revolution, when the legitimate110 wits were crying out, ‘The farce111 is over, now let us go to supper,’ these provoking reasoners got up a lively hypothesis about introducing the domestic government of the Nayrs into this country as a feasible set-off against the success of the Borough-mongers. The practical is with them always the antipodes of the ideal; and like other visionaries of a different stamp, they date the Millennium112 or New Order of Things from the Restoration of the Bourbons. ‘Fine words butter no parsnips,’ says the proverb. ‘While you are talking of marrying, I am thinking of hanging,’ says Captain Macheath. Of all people the most tormenting113 are those who bid you hope in the midst of despair, who, by never caring about anything but their own sanguine, hair-brained Utopian schemes, have at no time any particular cause for embarrassment114 and despondency because they have never the least chance of success, and who by including whatever does not hit their idle fancy, kings, priests, religion, government, public abuses or private morals, in the same sweeping115 clause of ban and anathema116, do all they can to combine all parties in a common cause against them, and to prevent every one else from advancing one step farther in the career of practical improvement than they do in that of imaginary and unattainable perfection.
Besides, all this untoward117 heat and precocity118 often argues rottenness and a falling-off. I myself remember several instances of this sort of unrestrained license119 of opinion and violent effervescence of sentiment in the first period of the French Revolution. Extremes meet: and the most furious anarchists120 have since become the most barefaced121 apostates122. Among the foremost of these I might mention the present poet-laureate and some of his friends. The prose-writers on that side of the question — Mr. Godwin, Mr. Bentham, etc. — have not turned round in this extraordinary manner: they seem to have felt their ground (however mistaken in some points), and have in general adhered to their first principles. But ‘poets (as it has been said) have such seething124 brains, that they are disposed to meddle125 with everything, and mar63 all. They make bad philosophers and worse politicians.47 They live, for the most part, in an ideal world of their own; and it would perhaps be as well if they were confined to it. Their flights and fancies are delightful126 to themselves and to everybody else: but they make strange work with matter of fact; and if they were allowed to act in public affairs, would soon turn the world the wrong side out. They indulge only their own flattering dreams or superstitious127 prejudices, and make idols128 or bugbears of whatever they please, caring as little for history or particular facts as for general reasoning. They are dangerous leaders and treacherous129 followers130. Their inordinate131 vanity runs them into all sorts of extravagances; and their habitual132 effeminacy gets them out of them at any price. Always pampering133 their own appetite for excitement, and wishing to astonish others, their whole aim is to produce a dramatic effect, one way or other — to shock or delight the observers; and they are apparently as indifferent to the consequences of what they write as if the world were merely a stage for them to play their fantastic tricks on, and to make their admirers weep. Not less romantic in their servility than their independence, and equally importunate134 candidates for fame or infamy135, they require only to be distinguished136, and are not scrupulous137 as to the means of distinction. Jacobins or Anti–Jacobins — outrageous138 advocates for anarchy139 and licentiousness, or flaming apostles of political persecution140 — always violent and vulgar in their opinions, they oscillate, with a giddy and sickening motion, from one absurdity to another, and expiate141 the follies142 of youth by the heartless vices143 of advancing age. None so ready as they to carry every paradox to its most revolting and ridiculous excess — none so sure to caricature, in their own persons, every feature of the prevailing144 philosophy! In their days of blissful innovation, indeed, the philosophers crept at their heels like hounds, while they darted145 on their distant quarry146 like hawks147; stooping always to the lowest game; eagerly snuffing up the most tainted148 and rankest scents149; feeding their vanity with a notion of the strength of their digestion150 of poisons, and most ostentatiously avowing151 whatever would most effectually startle the prejudices of others.48 Preposterously152 seeking for the stimulus153 of novelty in abstract truth, and the eclat154 of theatrical155 exhibition in pure reason, it is no wonder that these persons at last became disgusted with their own pursuits, and that, in consequence of the violence of the change, the most inveterate156 prejudices and uncharitable sentiments have rushed in to fill up the void produced by the previous annihilation of common sense, wisdom, and humanity!’
I have so far been a little hard on poets and reformers. Lest I should be thought to have taken a particular spite to them, I will try to make them the amende honorable by turning to a passage in the writings of one who neither is nor ever pretended to be a poet or a reformer, but the antithesis157 of both, an accomplished158 man of the world, a courtier, and a wit, and who has endeavoured to move the previous question on all schemes of fanciful improvement, and all plans of practical reform, by the following declaration. It is in itself a finished common-place; and may serve as a test whether that sort of smooth, verbal reasoning which passes current because it excites no one idea in the mind, is much freer from inherent absurdity than the wildest paradox.
‘My lot,’ says Mr. Canning in the conclusion of his Liverpool speech, ‘is cast under the British Monarchy159. Under that I have lived; under that I have seen my country flourish;49 under that I have seen it enjoy as great a share of prosperity, of happiness, and of glory as I believe any modification161 of human society to be capable of bestowing162; and I am not prepared to sacrifice or to hazard the fruit of centuries of experience, of centuries of struggles, and of more than one century of liberty, as perfect as ever blessed any country upon the earth, for visionary schemes of ideal perfectibility, for doubtful experiments even of possible improvement.’50
Such is Mr. Canning’s common-place; and in giving the following answer to it, I do not think I can be accused of falling into that extravagant and unmitigated strain of paradoxical reasoning with which I have already found so much fault.
The passage, then, which the gentleman here throws down as an effectual bar to all change, to all innovation, to all improvement, contains at every step a refutation of his favourite creed37. He is not ‘prepared to sacrifice or to hazard the fruit of centuries of experience, of centuries of struggles, and of one century of liberty, for visionary schemes of ideal perfectibility.’ So here are centuries of experience and centuries of struggles to arrive at one century of liberty; and yet, according to Mr. Canning’s general advice, we are never to make any experiments or to engage in any struggles either with a view to future improvement, or to recover benefits which we have lost. Man (they repeat in our cars, line upon line, precept163 upon precept) is always to turn his back upon the future, and his face to the past. He is to believe that nothing is possible or desirable but what he finds already established to his hands in time-worn institutions or inveterate abuses. His unde to be made into a political automaton164, a go-cart of superstition and prejudice, never stirring hand or foot but as he is pulled by the wires and strings165 of the state-conjurers, the legitimate managers and proprietors166 of the show. His powers of will, of thought, and action are to be paralysed in him, and he is to be told and to believe that whatever is, must be. Perhaps Mr. Canning will say that men were to make experiments and to resolve upon struggles formerly167, but that now they are to surrender their understandings and their rights into his keeping. But at what period of the world was the system of political wisdom stereotyped168, like Mr. Cobbett’s Gold against Paper, so as to admit of no farther alterations169 or improvements, or correction of errors of the press? When did the experience of mankind become stationary170 or retrograde, so that we must act from the obsolete171 inferences of past periods, not from the living impulse of existing circumstances, and the consolidated172 force of the knowledge and reflection of ages up to the present instant, naturally projecting us forward into the future, and not driving us back upon the past? Did Mr. Canning never hear, did he never think, of Lord Bacon’s axiom, ‘That those times are the ancient times in which we live, and not those which, counting backwards173 from ourselves, ordine retrogrado, we call ancient’? The latest periods must necessarily have the advantage of the sum-total of the experience that has gone before them, and of the sum-total of human reason exerted upon that experience, or upon the solid foundation of nature and history, moving on in its majestic174 course, not fluttering in the empty air of fanciful speculation, nor leaving a gap of centuries between us and the long-mouldered grounds on which we are to think and act. Mr. Canning cannot plead with Mr. Burke that no discoveries, no improvements have been made in political science and institutions; for he says we have arrived through centuries of experience and of struggles at one century of liberty. Is the world, then, at a stand? Mr. Canning knows well enough that it is in ceaseless progress and everlasting32 change, but he would have it to be the change from liberty to slavery, the progress of corruption175, not of regeneration and reform. Why, no longer ago than the present year, the two epochs of November and January last presented (he tells us in this very speech) as great a contrast in the state of the country as any two periods of its history the most opposite or most remote. Well then, are our experience and our struggles at an end? No, he says, ‘the crisis is at hand for every man to take part for or against the institutions of the British Monarchy.’ His part is taken: ‘but of this be sure, to do aught good will never be his task!’ He will guard carefully against all possible improvements, and maintain all possible abuses sacred, impassive, immortal176. He will not give up the fruit of centuries of experience, of struggles, and of one century at least of liberty, since the Revolution of 1688, for any doubtful experiments whatever. We are arrived at the end of our experience, our struggles, and our liberty — and are to anchor through time and eternity177 in the harbour of passive obedience178 and non-resistance. We (the people of England) will tell Mr. Canning frankly179 what we think of his magnanimous and ulterior resolution. It is our own; and it has been the resolution of mankind in all ages of the world. No people, no age, ever threw away the fruits of past wisdom, or the enjoyment180 of present blessings181, for visionary schemes of ideal perfection. It is the knowledge of the past, the actual infliction182 of the present, that has produced all changes, all innovations, and all improvements — not (as is pretended) the chimerical183 anticipation of possible advantages, but the intolerable pressure of long-established, notorious, aggravated184, and growing abuses. It was the experience of the enormous and disgusting abuses and corruptions185 of the Papal power that produced the Reformation. It was the experience of the vexations and oppressions of the feudal186 system that produced its abolition187 after centuries of sufferings and of struggles. It was the experience of the caprice and tyranny of the Monarch160 that extorted188 Magna Charta at Runnymede. It was the experience of the arbitrary and insolent189 abuse of the prerogative190 in the reigns192 of the Tudors and the first Stuarts that produced the resistance to it in the reign191 of Charles I. and the Grand Rebellion. It was the experience of the incorrigible attachment193 of the same Stuarts to Popery and Slavery, with their many acts of cruelty, treachery, and bigotry, that produced the Revolution, and set the House of Brunswick on the Throne. It was the conviction of the incurable194 nature of the abuse, increasing with time and patience, and overcoming the obstinate60 attachment to old habits and prejudices — an attachment not to be rooted out by fancy or theory, but only by repeated, lasting, and incontrovertible proofs — that has abated195 every nuisance that ever was abated, and introduced every innovation and every example of revolution and reform. It was the experience of the abuses, licentiousness, and innumerable oppressions of the old Government in France that produced the French Revolution. It was the experience of the determination of the British Ministry196 to harass197, insult, and plunder198 them, that produced the Revolution of the United States. Away then with this miserable199 cant against fanciful theories, and appeal to acknowledged experience! Men never act against their prejudices but from the spur of their feelings, the necessity of their situations — their theories are adapted to their practical convictions and their varying circumstances. Nature has ordered it so, and Mr. Canning, by showing off his rhetorical paces, by his ‘ambling and lisping and nicknaming God’s creatures,’ cannot invert200 that order, efface201 the history of the past, or arrest the progress of the future. — Public opinion is the result of public events and public feelings; and government must be moulded by that opinion, or maintain itself in opposition202 to it by the sword. Mr. Canning indeed will not consent that the social machine should in any case receive a different direction from what it has had, ‘lest it should be hurried over the precipice and dashed to pieces.’ These warnings of national ruin and terrific accounts of political precipices203 put one in mind of Edgar’s exaggerations to Gloster; they make one’s hair stand on end in the perusal204 but the poor old man, like poor old England, could fall no lower than he was. Mr. Montgomery, the ingenious and amiable205 poet, after he had been shut up in solitary206 confinement207 for a year and a half for printing the Duke of Richmond’s Letter on Reform, when he first walked out into the narrow path of the adjoining field, was seized with an apprehension92 that he should fall over it, as if he had trod on the brink208 of an abrupt209 declivity210. The author of the loyal Speech at the Liverpool Dinner has been so long kept in the solitary confinement of his prejudices, and the dark cells of his interest and vanity, that he is afraid of being dashed to pieces if he makes a single false step, to the right or the left, from his dangerous and crooked211 policy. As to himself, his ears are no doubt closed to any advice that might here be offered him; and as to his country, he seems bent123 on its destruction. If, however, an example of the futility212 of all his projects and all his reasonings on a broader scale, ‘to warn and scare, be wanting,’ let him look at Spain, and take leisure to recover from his incredulity and his surprise. Spain, as Ferdinand, as the Monarchy, has fallen from its pernicious height, never to rise again: Spain, as Spain, as the Spanish people, has risen from the tomb of liberty, never (it is to be hoped) to sink again under the yoke213 of the bigot and the oppressor!
点击收听单词发音
1 paradoxes | |
n.似非而是的隽语,看似矛盾而实际却可能正确的说法( paradox的名词复数 );用于语言文学中的上述隽语;有矛盾特点的人[事物,情况] | |
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2 paradox | |
n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法;自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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3 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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4 sarcastic | |
adj.讥讽的,讽刺的,嘲弄的 | |
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5 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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6 specious | |
adj.似是而非的;adv.似是而非地 | |
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7 originality | |
n.创造力,独创性;新颖 | |
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8 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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9 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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10 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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11 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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12 poise | |
vt./vi. 平衡,保持平衡;n.泰然自若,自信 | |
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13 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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14 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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15 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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16 teeming | |
adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 );到处都是;(指水、雨等)暴降;倾注 | |
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17 dictates | |
n.命令,规定,要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
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18 petulance | |
n.发脾气,生气,易怒,暴躁,性急 | |
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19 ingenuity | |
n.别出心裁;善于发明创造 | |
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20 obstinacy | |
n.顽固;(病痛等)难治 | |
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21 levity | |
n.轻率,轻浮,不稳定,多变 | |
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22 bigotry | |
n.偏见,偏执,持偏见的行为[态度]等 | |
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23 plodding | |
a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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24 incorrigible | |
adj.难以纠正的,屡教不改的 | |
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25 whim | |
n.一时的兴致,突然的念头;奇想,幻想 | |
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26 antagonists | |
对立[对抗] 者,对手,敌手( antagonist的名词复数 ); 对抗肌; 对抗药 | |
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27 antiquated | |
adj.陈旧的,过时的 | |
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28 absurdity | |
n.荒谬,愚蠢;谬论 | |
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29 enchanted | |
adj. 被施魔法的,陶醉的,入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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30 dinned | |
vt.喧闹(din的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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31 forefathers | |
n.祖先,先人;祖先,祖宗( forefather的名词复数 );列祖列宗;前人 | |
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32 everlasting | |
adj.永恒的,持久的,无止境的 | |
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33 everlastingly | |
永久地,持久地 | |
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34 pique | |
v.伤害…的自尊心,使生气 n.不满,生气 | |
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35 jargon | |
n.术语,行话 | |
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36 discordant | |
adj.不调和的 | |
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37 creed | |
n.信条;信念,纲领 | |
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38 creeds | |
(尤指宗教)信条,教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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39 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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40 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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41 petrify | |
vt.使发呆;使…变成化石 | |
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42 mercurial | |
adj.善变的,活泼的 | |
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43 faculties | |
n.能力( faculty的名词复数 );全体教职员;技巧;院 | |
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44 supersedes | |
取代,接替( supersede的第三人称单数 ) | |
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45 anticipation | |
n.预期,预料,期望 | |
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46 doctrines | |
n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 );教义;学说;(政府政策的)正式声明 | |
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47 credulous | |
adj.轻信的,易信的 | |
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48 shudders | |
n.颤动,打颤,战栗( shudder的名词复数 )v.战栗( shudder的第三人称单数 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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49 cant | |
n.斜穿,黑话,猛扔 | |
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50 knavery | |
n.恶行,欺诈的行为 | |
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51 abating | |
减少( abate的现在分词 ); 减去; 降价; 撤消(诉讼) | |
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52 precedents | |
引用单元; 范例( precedent的名词复数 ); 先前出现的事例; 前例; 先例 | |
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53 fabric | |
n.织物,织品,布;构造,结构,组织 | |
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54 scouts | |
侦察员[机,舰]( scout的名词复数 ); 童子军; 搜索; 童子军成员 | |
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55 ineffable | |
adj.无法表达的,不可言喻的 | |
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56 disdain | |
n.鄙视,轻视;v.轻视,鄙视,不屑 | |
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57 labyrinths | |
迷宫( labyrinth的名词复数 ); (文字,建筑)错综复杂的 | |
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58 presumption | |
n.推测,可能性,冒昧,放肆,[法律]推定 | |
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59 subscribe | |
vi.(to)订阅,订购;同意;vt.捐助,赞助 | |
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60 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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61 obstinately | |
ad.固执地,顽固地 | |
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62 hectic | |
adj.肺病的;消耗热的;发热的;闹哄哄的 | |
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63 mar | |
vt.破坏,毁坏,弄糟 | |
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64 philosophic | |
adj.哲学的,贤明的 | |
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65 fanatic | |
n.狂热者,入迷者;adj.狂热入迷的 | |
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66 sanguine | |
adj.充满希望的,乐观的,血红色的 | |
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67 enthusiasts | |
n.热心人,热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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68 stamina | |
n.体力;精力;耐力 | |
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69 texture | |
n.(织物)质地;(材料)构造;结构;肌理 | |
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70 clogged | |
(使)阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 ); 淤滞 | |
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71 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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72 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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73 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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74 speculation | |
n.思索,沉思;猜测;投机 | |
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75 amber | |
n.琥珀;琥珀色;adj.琥珀制的 | |
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76 volatile | |
adj.反复无常的,挥发性的,稍纵即逝的,脾气火爆的;n.挥发性物质 | |
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77 crucible | |
n.坩锅,严酷的考验 | |
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78 ordeal | |
n.苦难经历,(尤指对品格、耐力的)严峻考验 | |
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79 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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80 random | |
adj.随机的;任意的;n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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81 mischief | |
n.损害,伤害,危害;恶作剧,捣蛋,胡闹 | |
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82 tampers | |
n.捣棒( tamper的名词复数 );打夯机;夯具;填塞者v.窜改( tamper的第三人称单数 );篡改;(用不正当手段)影响;瞎摆弄 | |
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83 obnoxious | |
adj.极恼人的,讨人厌的,可憎的 | |
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84 taint | |
n.污点;感染;腐坏;v.使感染;污染 | |
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85 tenor | |
n.男高音(歌手),次中音(乐器),要旨,大意 | |
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86 scorch | |
v.烧焦,烤焦;高速疾驶;n.烧焦处,焦痕 | |
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87 aurora | |
n.极光 | |
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88 incessant | |
adj.不停的,连续的 | |
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89 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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90 unison | |
n.步调一致,行动一致 | |
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91 apprehensions | |
疑惧 | |
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92 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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93 consolidating | |
v.(使)巩固, (使)加强( consolidate的现在分词 );(使)合并 | |
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94 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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95 discredit | |
vt.使不可置信;n.丧失信义;不信,怀疑 | |
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96 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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97 eminence | |
n.卓越,显赫;高地,高处;名家 | |
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98 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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99 verge | |
n.边,边缘;v.接近,濒临 | |
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100 precipice | |
n.悬崖,危急的处境 | |
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101 beacon | |
n.烽火,(警告用的)闪火灯,灯塔 | |
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102 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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103 insipid | |
adj.无味的,枯燥乏味的,单调的 | |
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104 seduce | |
vt.勾引,诱奸,诱惑,引诱 | |
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105 intoxicating | |
a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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106 licentiousness | |
n.放肆,无法无天 | |
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107 philosophical | |
adj.哲学家的,哲学上的,达观的 | |
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108 questionable | |
adj.可疑的,有问题的 | |
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109 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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110 legitimate | |
adj.合法的,合理的,合乎逻辑的;v.使合法 | |
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111 farce | |
n.闹剧,笑剧,滑稽戏;胡闹 | |
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112 millennium | |
n.一千年,千禧年;太平盛世 | |
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113 tormenting | |
使痛苦的,使苦恼的 | |
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114 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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115 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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116 anathema | |
n.诅咒;被诅咒的人(物),十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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117 untoward | |
adj.不利的,不幸的,困难重重的 | |
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118 precocity | |
n.早熟,早成 | |
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119 license | |
n.执照,许可证,特许;v.许可,特许 | |
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120 anarchists | |
无政府主义者( anarchist的名词复数 ) | |
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121 barefaced | |
adj.厚颜无耻的,公然的 | |
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122 apostates | |
n.放弃原来信仰的人( apostate的名词复数 );叛教者;脱党者;反叛者 | |
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123 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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124 seething | |
沸腾的,火热的 | |
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125 meddle | |
v.干预,干涉,插手 | |
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126 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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127 superstitious | |
adj.迷信的 | |
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128 idols | |
偶像( idol的名词复数 ); 受崇拜的人或物; 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物; 神像 | |
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129 treacherous | |
adj.不可靠的,有暗藏的危险的;adj.背叛的,背信弃义的 | |
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130 followers | |
追随者( follower的名词复数 ); 用户; 契据的附面; 从动件 | |
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131 inordinate | |
adj.无节制的;过度的 | |
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132 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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133 pampering | |
v.纵容,宠,娇养( pamper的现在分词 ) | |
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134 importunate | |
adj.强求的;纠缠不休的 | |
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135 infamy | |
n.声名狼藉,出丑,恶行 | |
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136 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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137 scrupulous | |
adj.审慎的,小心翼翼的,完全的,纯粹的 | |
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138 outrageous | |
adj.无理的,令人不能容忍的 | |
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139 anarchy | |
n.无政府状态;社会秩序混乱,无秩序 | |
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140 persecution | |
n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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141 expiate | |
v.抵补,赎罪 | |
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142 follies | |
罪恶,时事讽刺剧; 愚蠢,蠢笨,愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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143 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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144 prevailing | |
adj.盛行的;占优势的;主要的 | |
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145 darted | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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146 quarry | |
n.采石场;v.采石;费力地找 | |
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147 hawks | |
鹰( hawk的名词复数 ); 鹰派人物,主战派人物 | |
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148 tainted | |
adj.腐坏的;污染的;沾污的;感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 );使污染;败坏;被污染,腐坏,败坏 | |
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149 scents | |
n.香水( scent的名词复数 );气味;(动物的)臭迹;(尤指狗的)嗅觉 | |
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150 digestion | |
n.消化,吸收 | |
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151 avowing | |
v.公开声明,承认( avow的现在分词 ) | |
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152 preposterously | |
adv.反常地;荒谬地;荒谬可笑地;不合理地 | |
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153 stimulus | |
n.刺激,刺激物,促进因素,引起兴奋的事物 | |
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154 eclat | |
n.显赫之成功,荣誉 | |
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155 theatrical | |
adj.剧场的,演戏的;做戏似的,做作的 | |
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156 inveterate | |
adj.积习已深的,根深蒂固的 | |
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157 antithesis | |
n.对立;相对 | |
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158 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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159 monarchy | |
n.君主,最高统治者;君主政体,君主国 | |
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160 monarch | |
n.帝王,君主,最高统治者 | |
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161 modification | |
n.修改,改进,缓和,减轻 | |
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162 bestowing | |
砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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163 precept | |
n.戒律;格言 | |
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164 automaton | |
n.自动机器,机器人 | |
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165 strings | |
n.弦 | |
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166 proprietors | |
n.所有人,业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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167 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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168 stereotyped | |
adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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169 alterations | |
n.改动( alteration的名词复数 );更改;变化;改变 | |
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170 stationary | |
adj.固定的,静止不动的 | |
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171 obsolete | |
adj.已废弃的,过时的 | |
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172 consolidated | |
a.联合的 | |
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173 backwards | |
adv.往回地,向原处,倒,相反,前后倒置地 | |
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174 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
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175 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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176 immortal | |
adj.不朽的;永生的,不死的;神的 | |
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177 eternity | |
n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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178 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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179 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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180 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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181 blessings | |
n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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182 infliction | |
n.(强加于人身的)痛苦,刑罚 | |
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183 chimerical | |
adj.荒诞不经的,梦幻的 | |
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184 aggravated | |
使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 ); 使更严重; 激怒; 使恼火 | |
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185 corruptions | |
n.堕落( corruption的名词复数 );腐化;腐败;贿赂 | |
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186 feudal | |
adj.封建的,封地的,领地的 | |
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187 abolition | |
n.废除,取消 | |
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188 extorted | |
v.敲诈( extort的过去式和过去分词 );曲解 | |
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189 insolent | |
adj.傲慢的,无理的 | |
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190 prerogative | |
n.特权 | |
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191 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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192 reigns | |
n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 );君主统治时期;任期;当政期 | |
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193 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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194 incurable | |
adj.不能医治的,不能矫正的,无救的;n.不治的病人,无救的人 | |
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195 abated | |
减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 ); 减去; 降价; 撤消(诉讼) | |
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196 ministry | |
n.(政府的)部;牧师 | |
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197 harass | |
vt.使烦恼,折磨,骚扰 | |
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198 plunder | |
vt.劫掠财物,掠夺;n.劫掠物,赃物;劫掠 | |
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199 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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200 invert | |
vt.使反转,使颠倒,使转化 | |
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201 efface | |
v.擦掉,抹去 | |
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202 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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203 precipices | |
n.悬崖,峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
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204 perusal | |
n.细读,熟读;目测 | |
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205 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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206 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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207 confinement | |
n.幽禁,拘留,监禁;分娩;限制,局限 | |
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208 brink | |
n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘,边沿 | |
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209 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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210 declivity | |
n.下坡,倾斜面 | |
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211 crooked | |
adj.弯曲的;不诚实的,狡猾的,不正当的 | |
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212 futility | |
n.无用 | |
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213 yoke | |
n.轭;支配;v.给...上轭,连接,使成配偶 | |
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