Word: friar
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Inquisitive readers who searched From 'Prentice to Patron found 6-year-old Printer Thomas' broadside to be an antique, circuitous poem which told how a Lawyer had been produced by a series of cohabitations between such persons as a Knight, a Friar, a Nun, a Lady...
...charms but he is not quite Mr. Aherne. Thus also with Maurice Evans in the difficult role of Romeo. He hasn't Basil Rathbone's experienced skill but he does give the part a youthfully romantic vigor which his predecessor failed to achieve. Charles Waldron is still fine as Friar Lawrence, and Florence Roed is excellent as the nurse, though perhaps not quite up to the standard which Edith Evans set for the New York run. As Paris, John Cromwell gives a very promising performance...
...showing the Emperor of Japan walking off with the Nobel Peace Prize, Vanity Fair also showed J. P. Morgan making a stump speech against Capitalism, Admiral Byrd wintering in tropical Tahiti, William Randolph Hearst as Ambassador to Soviet Russia and Huey Long in a friar's robe entering a monastery. To crack this page of mirth wide open it was captioned "NOT ON YOUR TINTYPE. Five highly unlikely historical situations by one who is sick of the same old headlines...
Warm winds whispered through the pale night, and moonbeams shimmered mockingly over the ancient stones of the nunnery. Inside slept Chastity like a drift of snow in a cave in summer. Behind the grilled window of a tower chamber in candle burned. A young friar saw it and smiled as he walked up and down in the walled-in garden of the nunnery. The wan night air, fragrant with the scent of flowers, caressed him. Old repressions and half-forgotten dusty dont's quickened his pleasure in the escapade. If one could only catch this fragile essence and then only...
...candle in the tower winked out. All was stillness. The friar turned toward the building and stood motionless. Presently a latch clicked, and a woman hurried across the moonlit award and slipped into his arms. They kissed, and then stood for a long time whispering. At intervals, in the pale light, their faces fused. His the eager artist's, burning with creation; her's with a strange detachment--one day to be immortalized in pigment. At last they moved apart and then stole quickly down the garden path to a door in the old wall. The man opened...