“Pshaw! pshaw!” exclaimed Doctor T——. “Now, I perceive no reason,” resumed Sir John, “why any man should perform such an operation better than yourself: and if you advertise in the Petit Avis that you have a quantity of genuine Glinsk O’Bourke gore always at command, to transfuse into persons who wish to acquire the gentilities and the feelings of noblesse, without pain or patent, my blood, fresh from the veins, would bring you at least a Nap a spoonful: and in particular proportions, would so refine and purify the vulgar puddle of the bourgeois , that they might soon be regarded (in conjunction with their money) as high at least as the half-starved quatrième nobility, who hobble down to their sugar and water at soirées in the fauxbourg St. Germain, and go to bed in the dark to save candle-light.”
— from Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 3 (of 3) by Barrington, Jonah, Sir

Let some one mount a horse and lead another that he may come more quickly.
— from Marguerite de Valois by Alexandre Dumas

After that he fell under a shower of wounds, and when he was dead the mob abused him as loudly as they had flattered him in his lifetime—and with as little reason.
— from Tacitus: The Histories, Volumes I and II by Cornelius Tacitus

She had swept aside, quite a long time ago, her earlier efforts of the days of the McGrath; she had outgrown, too, the Meunier-like figures, all muscle and hammers and leather aprons, that had first attracted Mr. Hamilton Dix’s attention; and all round that Cheyne Walk room were stacked the canvases of her latest and (she hoped) her finally settled phase—her Saturday night street-markets, her “character studies” worked up from sketches made in Whitechapel and Shoreditch, her scenes sketched in alleys and courts and during long waits in gallery-queues.
— from Gray youth: The story of a very modern courtship and a very modern marriage by Oliver Onions