Consider, for instance, a porter in Naples or Venice (in the north of Europe solicitude for the winter months makes people more thoughtful and therefore reflective); look at the life he leads, from its beginning to its end:--driven by poverty; living on his physical strength; meeting the needs of every day, nay, of every hour, by hard work, great effort, constant tumult, want in all its forms, no care for the morrow; his only comfort rest after exhaustion; continuous quarreling; not a moment free for reflection; such sensual delights as a mild climate and only just sufficient food will permit of; and then, finally, as the metaphysical element, the crass superstition of his church; the whole forming a manner of life with only a low degree of consciousness, where a man hustles, or rather is hustled, through his existence.
At the water gate, Rudolph, Heywood, and the padre, with a few forlorn Christians,--driven in like sheep, at the last moment,--were building a rough screen against the arrows that had flown in darkness, and that now lay scattered along the path.
So she was handed into the carriage, and driven away with the King; and as soon as they arrived at his castle the wedding was celebrated with great splendor, as the Dwarfs had granted to the maiden.
But you must bear in mind, Monsignor, that you've driven--" (he corrected his phrase)--"you drove us into a corner.
41, marginal gloss--*driven*.
No man of McLean's gangs could honestly say that he ever had been overdriven or underpaid.
The readers know, without even being told, that she left him "to work out her own salvation"--driven, by his cold brutality, beyond the breaking-point.
I said how we were in our measure emperors and kings, men undriven, free to do as we pleased with life; we classed among the happy ones, our bread and common necessities were given us for nothing, we had abilities,--it wasn't modesty but cowardice to behave as if we hadn't--and Fortune watched us to see what we might do with opportunity and the world.
Sirrah, at home we have a servingman; He is not humour'd bluntly as Coomes is, Yet his condition makes me often merry: I'll tell thee, sirrah, he's a fine neat fellow, A spruce slave; I warrant ye, he will have His cruel garters cross about the knee, His woollen hose as white as th'driven snow, His shoes dry-leather neat, and tied with red ribbons, A nosegay bound with laces in his hat-- Bridelaces, sir--and his hat all green, Green coverlet for such a grass-green wit.