large/12344/word_portraits_of_famous_writers_1805_librivox_64kb_mp3/wordportraits_011_wotton_64kb_0
large/12344/word_portraits_of_famous_writers_1805_librivox_64kb_mp3/wordportraits_011_wotton_64kb
English
12344
Mark him well, eye him closely: you have not much time to lose. Alas! the giant is very old, though with frame yet unenfeebled, with intellect yet gloriously unclouded. But the sands are running, ever running. MARK HIM WELL EYE HIM CLOSELY YOU HAVE NOT MUCH TIME TO LOSE ALAS THE GIANT IS VERY OLD THOUGH WITH FRAME YET UNENFEEBLED WITH INTELLECT YET GLORIOUSLY UNCLOUDED BUT THE SANDS ARE RUNNING EVER RUNNING
oselle. Would prefer onions or strongly-infused malt and hops; something honest and unsophisticated. Watch this old man narrowly, young visitor to the Lords. Scan his furrowed visage. Mark his odd angular ways and gestures passing uncouth. Now he crouches, very dog-like, in his crimson bench: clasps one shepherd’s plaid leg in both his hands. Botherem, _q.c._, is talking nonsense, I think. Now the legs are crossed, and the hands thrown behind the head; now he digs his elbows into the little Gothic writing-table before him, and buries his hands in that puissant white hair of his. The quiddities of Floorem, _q.c._, are beyond human patience. Then with a wrench, a wriggle, a shake, a half-turn and half-start up--still very dog-like, but of the Newfoundland rather, now--he asks a lawyer or a witness a question. Question very sharp and to the point, not often complimentary by times, and couched in that which is neither broad Scotch nor Northumbrian burr, but a rebellious mixture of the two. ITHER I THINK OR THE DELICATE AROMO SPARKLING MOSELLE WOULD PREFER ONIONS OR STRONGLY INFUSED MOLTEN HOPS SOMETHING HONEST AND UNSOPHISTICATED WATCH THIS OLD MAN NARROWLY YOUNG VISITOR TO THE LORDS SCAN HIS FURRIED VISAGE MARK HIS ODD ANGULAR WAYS AND GESTURES PASSING UNCOUTH NOW HE CROUCHES VERY DOG LIKE IN HIS CRIMSON BENCH CLASPS ONE SHEPHERD'S PLAGUE LEG IN BOTH HIS HANDS BOTHERUM C IS TALKING NONSENSE I THINK NOW THE LEGS ARE CROSSED AND THE HANDS THROWN BEHIND THE HEAD NOW HE DIGS HIS ELBOWS INTO THE LITTLE GOTHIC WRITING TABLE BEFORE HIM AND BURIES HIS HANDS IN THAT PUISSANT WHITE HAIR OF HIS THE QUIDDITIES OF FLORUM C ARE BEYOND HUMAN PATIENCE THEN WITH A WRENCH A WRIGGLE A SHAKE A HALF TURN AND A HALF START UP STILL VERY DOG LIKE BUT OF THE NEW FOUNDLAND RATHER NOW HE ASKS A LAWYER OR WITNESS A QUESTION QUESTION VERY SHARP AND TO THE POINT NOT OFTEN COMPLIMENTARY BY TIMES AND COUCHED IN THAT WHICH IS NEITHER BROAD SCOTCH NOR NORTHUMBRIAN BUR BUT A REBELLIOUS MIXTURE OF THE TWO
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