BLTC Press Titles

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Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Lewis Carroll

Through the Looking Glass

Lewis Carroll

The Art of Worldly Wisdom

Baltasar Gracian

Further Adventures of an Irish R. M.

Edith Somerville and Martin Ross

Faust: a tragedy

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe



Grey, my young friend, is every Theory,
And verdant is Life's golden Tree!


I do declare 'tis like a dream to me!
May 1 for another audience make petition,
To hear on this a fundamental disquisition?


To th' utmost of my power yours to command.


I cannot possibly go away Ere I my Common-Place Book to you hand; This token of your favour grant, I pray.


Most willingly.

[Writes, and returns it to him.

Student (reads).

Eritis sicut Deus scientes bonum et malum.

[Reverently closes the Book, makes his obeisance,

and exit.


But follow this adage old—and the ways of my

Cousin the Snake! Cause enough (with thy likeness to God !) shalt

thou have, ere long, to quake.

Enter Faust. Now whither go we?


Where'er you choose: We 'll first the low—then the high world peruse. With what delight and profit too Will you these lectures scamper through.


Yet, with this chin's long growth of hair,

I want the easy scavoir faire;

Success to th' attempt will never come—

In the world I never was at home;

I feel so small with others; and must bear

About me ever an embarrassed air.


All that must be—but I this maxim give,

"Learn self-reliance,and you have learn'd to live."


Tell me, how start we, then ? and where
Your carriage, horses, servants are?


We need but spread a mantle wide,

And on it through the air we'll ride.

You must not any heavy pack

Take with you, in this daring track.

Some gas, I know how to prepare,

Shall lift us up into the air;

And if we are light, we shall mount rapidly.

Of your new course of life I wish you joy.

auetfiacb'0 cellar in Leipzig.

A set of Boon Companions over their Wine.


Will none be jolly ?—will none drink?
—I 'll teach ye to sit there and wink!
You are all just like wet straw to-day—
Yet other whiles you flare away.


That's your fault, now ! we are all your quotum

less— You sport no nonsense—sport no beastliness!


[Pouring a glass of Wine over his Head! There's both for you!


You twice-beast, you!


You voted that I should be so.


Come ! out with him who squabbles here.

Let's swill and shout—and sing with voices clear



Oh Lord! I am driven to fits; Some cotton here !—my ears that fellow splits.


The full power of the Bass is only known
When from the vaulted roof 'tis echoed down.


Right! him who takes offence, we'll out with, soon. La ! tara ! lara da!


La! tara! lara da!


Our throats are all in tune.
The dear old Roman Empire!
How holds it still together?


A scurvy song! Fie! A political song!

An offensive song ! Each morning bless your stars,

That for the Empire you need have no cares!

I, for my part, am thankful more and more,

I am neither Emperor nor Chancellor.

To do without some head, though, we can't hope;

Therefore, I say, let us elect a Pope.

You know the kind of qualities

That kick the beam and make the man to rise.


Up, Dame Nightingale! Soar above!
Ten thousand greetings give to my love!

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