章节正文
Harris; but he answered:
"Not a bit of it. Serve `em all jolly well right, and I'd go and sing
comic songs on the ruins."
I was vexed to hear Harris go on in this blood-thirsty strain. We never
ought to allow our instincts of justice to degenerate into mere
vindictiveness. It was a long while before I could get Harris to take a
more Christian view of the subject, but I succeeded at last, and he
promised me that he would spare the friends and relations at all events,
and would not sing comic songs on the ruins.
You have never heard Harris sing a comic song, or you would understand
the service I had rendered to mankind. It is one of Harris's fixed ideas
that he CAN sing a comic song; the fixed idea, on the contrary, among
those of Harris's friends who have heard him try, is that he CAN'T and
never will be able to, and that he ought not to be allowed to try.
When Harris is at a party, and is asked to sing, he replies: "Well, I can
only sing a COMIC song, you know;" and he says it in a tone that implies
that his singing of THAT, however, is a thing that you ought to hear
once, and then die.
"Oh, that IS nice," says the hostess. "Do sing one, Mr. Harris;" and
Harris gets up, and makes for the piano, with the beaming cheeriness of a
generous-minded man who is just about to give somebody something.
"Now, silence, please, everybody" says the hostess, turning round; "Mr.
Harris is going to sing a comic song!"
"Oh, how jolly!" they murmur; and they hurry in from the conservatory,
and come up from the stairs, and go and fetch each other from all over
the house, and crowd into the drawing-room, and sit round, all smirking
in anticipation.
Then Harris begins.
Well, you don't look for much of a voice in a comic song. You don't
expect correct phrasing or vocalization. You don't mind if a man does
find out, when in the middle of a note, that he is too high, and comes
down with a jerk. You don't bother about time. You don't mind a man
being two bars in front of the accompaniment, and easing up in the middle
of a line to argue it out with the pianist, and then starting the verse
afresh. But you do expect the words.
You don't expect a man to never remember more than the first three lines
of the first verse, and to keep on repeating these until it is time to
begin the chorus. You don't expect a man to break off in the middle of a
line, and snigger, and say, it's very funny, but he's blest if he can
think of the rest of it, and then try and make it up for himself, and,
afterwards, suddenly recollect it, when he has got to an entirely
different part of the song, and break off, without a word of warning, to
go back and let you have it then and there. You don't - well, I will
just give you an idea of Harris's comic singing, and then you can judge
of it for yourself.
HARRIS (STANDING UP IN FRONT OF PIANO AND ADDRESSING THE EXPECTANT MOB):
"I'm afraid it's a very old thing, you know. I expect you all know it,
you know. But it's the only thing I know. It's the Judge's song out of
PINAFORE - no, I don't mean PINAFORE - I mean - you know what I mean -
the other thing, you know. You must all join in the chorus, you know."
[Murmurs of delight and anxiety to join in the chorus. Brilliant
performance of prelude to the Judge's song in "Trial by Jury" by nervous
Pianist. Moment arrives for Harris to join in. Harris takes no notice
of it. Nervous pianist commences prelude over again, and Harris,
commencing singing at the same time, dashes off the first two lines of
the First Lord's song out of "Pinafore." Nervous pianist tries to push
on with prelude, gives it up, and tries to follow Harris with
accompaniment to Judge's song out "Trial by Jury," finds that doesn't
answer, and tries to recollect what he is doing, and where he is, feels
his mind giving way, and stops short.]
HARRIS (WITH KINDLY ENCOURAGEMENT): "It's all right. You're doing it
very well, indeed - go on."
NERVOUS PIANIST: "I'm afraid there's a mistake somewhere. What are you
singing?"
HARRIS (PROMPTLY): "Why the Judge's song out of Trial by Jury. Don't you
know it?"
SOME FRIEND OF HARRIS'S (FROM THE BACK OF THE ROOM): "No, you're not, you
chuckle-head, you're singing the Admiral's song from PINAFORE."
[Long argument between Harris and Harris's friend as to what Harris is
really singing. Friend finally suggests that it doesn't matter what
Harris is singing so long as Harris gets on and sings it, and Harris,
with an evident sense of injustice rankling inside him, requests pianist
to begin again. Pianist, thereupon, starts prelude to the Admiral's
song, and Harris, seizing what he considers to be a favourable opening in
the music, begins.]
HARRIS:
" `When I was young and called to the Bar.' "
[GENERAL ROAR OF LAUGHTER, TAKEN BY HARRIS AS A COMPLIMENT. PIANIST,
THINKING OF HIS WIFE AND FAMILY, GIVES UP THE UNEQUAL CONTEST AND
RETIRES; HIS PLACE BEING TAKEN BY A STRONGER-NERVED MAN.
THE NEW PIANIST (CHEERILY): "Now then, old man, you start off, and I'll
follow. We won't bother about any prelude."
HARRIS (UPON WHOM THE EXPLANATION OF MATTERS HAS SLOWLY DAWNED -
LAUGHING): "By Jove! I beg your pardon. Of course - I've been mixing up
the two songs. It was Jenkins confused me, you know. Now then.
[SINGING; HIS VOICE APPEARING TO COME FROM THE CELLAR, AND SUGGESTING THE
FIRST LOW WARNINGS OF AN APPROACHING EARTHQUAKE.
" `When I was young I served a term
As office-boy to an attorney's firm.'
(Aside to pianist): "It is too low, old man; we'll have that over again,
if you don't mind."
[SINGS FIRST TWO LINES OVER AGAIN, IN A HIGH FALSETTO THIS TIME. GREAT
SURPRISE ON THE PART OF THE AUDIENCE. NERVOUS OLD LADY NEAR THE FIRE
BEGINS TO CRY, AND HAS TO BE LED OUT.]
HARRIS (continuing):
"I swept the windows and I swept the door,
And I - `
No - no, I cleaned the windows of the big front door. And I polished up
the floor - no, dash it - I beg your pardon - funny thing, I can't think
of that line. And I - and I - Oh, well, we'll get on to the chorus, and
chance it (SINGS):
`And I diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-de,
Till now I am the ruler of the Queen's navee.'
Now then, chorus - it is the last two lines repeated, you know.
GENERAL CHORUS:
"And he diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-dee'd,
Till now he is the ruler of the Queen's navee."
And Harris never sees what an ass he is making of himself, and how he is
annoying a lot of people who never did him any harm. He honestly
imagines that he has given them a treat, and says he will sing another
comic song after supper.
Speaking of comic songs and parties, reminds me of a rather curious
incident at which I once assisted; which, as it throws much light upon
the inner mentalworking of human nature in general, ought, I think, to
be recorded in these pages.
We were a fashionable and highly cultured party. We had on our best
clothes, and we talked pretty, and were very happy - all except two young
fellows, students, just returned from Germany, commonplace young men, who
seemed restless and uncomfortable, as if they found the proceedings slow.
The truth was, we were too clever for them. Our brilliant but polished
conversation, and our high-class tastes, were beyond them. They were out
of place, among us. They never ought to have been there at all.
Everybody agreed upon that, later on.
We played MORCEAUX from the old German masters. We discussed philosophy
and ethics. We flirted with gracefuldignity. We were even humorous -
in a high-class way.
Somebody recited a French poem after supper, and we said it was
beautiful; and then a lady sang a sentimentalballad in Spanish, and it
made one or two of us weep - it was so pathetic.
And then those two young men got up, and asked us if we had ever heard
Herr Slossenn Boschen (who had just arrived, and was then down in the
supper-room) sing his great German comic song.
None of us had heard it, that we could remember.
The young men said it was the funniest song that had ever been written,
and that, if we liked, they would get Herr Slossenn Boschen, whom they
knew very well, to sing it. They said it was so funny that, when Herr
Slossenn Boschen had sung it once before the German Emperor, he (the
German Emperor) had had to be carried off to bed.
They said nobody could sing it like Herr Slossenn Boschen; he was so
intensely serious all through it that you might fancy he was reciting a
tragedy, and that, of course, made it all the funnier. They said he
never once suggested by his tone or manner that he was singing anything
funny - that would spoil it. It was his air of seriousness, almost of
pathos, that made it so irresistibly amusing.
We said we yearned to hear it, that we wanted a good laugh; and they went
downstairs, and fetched Herr Slossenn Boschen.
He appeared to be quite pleased to sing it, for he came up at once, and
sat down to the piano without another word.
"Oh, it will amuse you. You will laugh," whispered the two young men, as
they passed through the room, and took up an unobtrusive position behind
the Professor's back.
Herr Slossenn Boschen accompanied himself. The prelude did not suggest a
comic song exactly. It was a weird, soulful air. It quite made one's
flesh creep; but we murmured to one another that it was the German
method, and prepared to enjoy it.
I don't understand German myself. I learned it at school, but forgot
every word of it two years after I had left, and have felt much better
ever since. Still, I did not want the people there to guess my
ignorance; so I hit upon what I thought to be rather a good idea. I kept
my eye on the two young students, and followed them. When they tittered,
I tittered; when they roared, I roared; and I also threw in a little
snigger all by myself now and then, as if I had seen a bit of humour that
had escaped the others. I considered this particularly artful on my
part.
I noticed, as the song progressed, that a good many other people seemed
to have their eye fixed on the two young men, as well as myself. These
other people also tittered when the young men tittered, and roared when
the young men roared; and, as the two young men tittered and roared and
exploded with laughter pretty continuously all through the song, it went
exceedingly well.
And yet that German Professor did not seem happy. At first, when we
began to laugh, the expression of his face was one of intense surprise,
as if laughter were the very last thing he had expected to be greeted
with. We thought this very funny: we said his earnest manner was half
the humour. The slightest hint on his part that he knew how funny he was
would have completely ruined it all. As we continued to laugh, his
surprise gave way to an air of annoyance and indignation, and he scowled
fiercely round upon us all (except upon the two young men who, being
behind him, he could not see). That sent us into convulsions. We told
each other that it would be the death of us, this thing. The words
alone, we said, were enough to send us into fits, but added to his mock
seriousness - oh, it was too much!
In the last verse, he surpassed himself. He glowered round upon us with
a look of such concentrated ferocity that, but for our being forewarned
as to the German method of comic singing, we should have been nervous;
and he threw such a wailing note of agony into the weird music that, if
we had not known it was a funny song, we might have wept.
He finished amid a perfect shriek of laughter. We said it was the
funniest thing we had ever heard in all our lives. We said how strange
it was that, in the face of things like these, there should be a popular
notion that the Germans hadn't any sense of humour. And we asked the
Professor why he didn't translate the song into English, so that the
common people could understand it, and hear what a real comic song was
like.
Then Herr Slossenn Boschen got up, and went on awful. He swore at us in
German (which I should judge to be a singularly effective language for
that purpose), and he danced, and shook his fists, and called us all the
English he knew. He said he had never been so insulted in all his life.
It appeared that the song was not a comic song at all. It was about a
young girl who lived in the Hartz Mountains, and who had given up her
life to save her lover's soul; and he died, and met her spirit in the
"Not a bit of it. Serve `em all jolly well right, and I'd go and sing
comic songs on the ruins."
I was vexed to hear Harris go on in this blood-thirsty strain. We never
ought to allow our instincts of justice to degenerate into mere
vindictiveness. It was a long while before I could get Harris to take a
more Christian view of the subject, but I succeeded at last, and he
promised me that he would spare the friends and relations at all events,
and would not sing comic songs on the ruins.
You have never heard Harris sing a comic song, or you would understand
the service I had rendered to mankind. It is one of Harris's fixed ideas
that he CAN sing a comic song; the fixed idea, on the contrary, among
those of Harris's friends who have heard him try, is that he CAN'T and
never will be able to, and that he ought not to be allowed to try.
When Harris is at a party, and is asked to sing, he replies: "Well, I can
only sing a COMIC song, you know;" and he says it in a tone that implies
that his singing of THAT, however, is a thing that you ought to hear
once, and then die.
"Oh, that IS nice," says the hostess. "Do sing one, Mr. Harris;" and
Harris gets up, and makes for the piano, with the beaming cheeriness of a
generous-minded man who is just about to give somebody something.
"Now, silence, please, everybody" says the hostess, turning round; "Mr.
Harris is going to sing a comic song!"
"Oh, how jolly!" they murmur; and they hurry in from the conservatory,
and come up from the stairs, and go and fetch each other from all over
the house, and crowd into the drawing-room, and sit round, all smirking
in anticipation.
Then Harris begins.
Well, you don't look for much of a voice in a comic song. You don't
expect correct phrasing or vocalization. You don't mind if a man does
find out, when in the middle of a note, that he is too high, and comes
down with a jerk. You don't bother about time. You don't mind a man
being two bars in front of the accompaniment, and easing up in the middle
of a line to argue it out with the pianist, and then starting the verse
afresh. But you do expect the words.
You don't expect a man to never remember more than the first three lines
of the first verse, and to keep on repeating these until it is time to
begin the chorus. You don't expect a man to break off in the middle of a
line, and snigger, and say, it's very funny, but he's blest if he can
think of the rest of it, and then try and make it up for himself, and,
afterwards, suddenly recollect it, when he has got to an entirely
different part of the song, and break off, without a word of warning, to
go back and let you have it then and there. You don't - well, I will
just give you an idea of Harris's comic singing, and then you can judge
of it for yourself.
HARRIS (STANDING UP IN FRONT OF PIANO AND ADDRESSING THE EXPECTANT MOB):
"I'm afraid it's a very old thing, you know. I expect you all know it,
you know. But it's the only thing I know. It's the Judge's song out of
PINAFORE - no, I don't mean PINAFORE - I mean - you know what I mean -
the other thing, you know. You must all join in the chorus, you know."
[Murmurs of delight and anxiety to join in the chorus. Brilliant
performance of prelude to the Judge's song in "Trial by Jury" by nervous
Pianist. Moment arrives for Harris to join in. Harris takes no notice
of it. Nervous pianist commences prelude over again, and Harris,
commencing singing at the same time, dashes off the first two lines of
the First Lord's song out of "Pinafore." Nervous pianist tries to push
on with prelude, gives it up, and tries to follow Harris with
accompaniment to Judge's song out "Trial by Jury," finds that doesn't
answer, and tries to recollect what he is doing, and where he is, feels
his mind giving way, and stops short.]
HARRIS (WITH KINDLY ENCOURAGEMENT): "It's all right. You're doing it
very well, indeed - go on."
NERVOUS PIANIST: "I'm afraid there's a mistake somewhere. What are you
singing?"
HARRIS (PROMPTLY): "Why the Judge's song out of Trial by Jury. Don't you
know it?"
SOME FRIEND OF HARRIS'S (FROM THE BACK OF THE ROOM): "No, you're not, you
chuckle-head, you're singing the Admiral's song from PINAFORE."
[Long argument between Harris and Harris's friend as to what Harris is
really singing. Friend finally suggests that it doesn't matter what
Harris is singing so long as Harris gets on and sings it, and Harris,
with an evident sense of injustice rankling inside him, requests pianist
to begin again. Pianist, thereupon, starts prelude to the Admiral's
song, and Harris, seizing what he considers to be a favourable opening in
the music, begins.]
HARRIS:
" `When I was young and called to the Bar.' "
[GENERAL ROAR OF LAUGHTER, TAKEN BY HARRIS AS A COMPLIMENT. PIANIST,
THINKING OF HIS WIFE AND FAMILY, GIVES UP THE UNEQUAL CONTEST AND
RETIRES; HIS PLACE BEING TAKEN BY A STRONGER-NERVED MAN.
THE NEW PIANIST (CHEERILY): "Now then, old man, you start off, and I'll
follow. We won't bother about any prelude."
HARRIS (UPON WHOM THE EXPLANATION OF MATTERS HAS SLOWLY DAWNED -
LAUGHING): "By Jove! I beg your pardon. Of course - I've been mixing up
the two songs. It was Jenkins confused me, you know. Now then.
[SINGING; HIS VOICE APPEARING TO COME FROM THE CELLAR, AND SUGGESTING THE
FIRST LOW WARNINGS OF AN APPROACHING EARTHQUAKE.
" `When I was young I served a term
As office-boy to an attorney's firm.'
(Aside to pianist): "It is too low, old man; we'll have that over again,
if you don't mind."
[SINGS FIRST TWO LINES OVER AGAIN, IN A HIGH FALSETTO THIS TIME. GREAT
SURPRISE ON THE PART OF THE AUDIENCE. NERVOUS OLD LADY NEAR THE FIRE
BEGINS TO CRY, AND HAS TO BE LED OUT.]
HARRIS (continuing):
"I swept the windows and I swept the door,
And I - `
No - no, I cleaned the windows of the big front door. And I polished up
the floor - no, dash it - I beg your pardon - funny thing, I can't think
of that line. And I - and I - Oh, well, we'll get on to the chorus, and
chance it (SINGS):
`And I diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-de,
Till now I am the ruler of the Queen's navee.'
Now then, chorus - it is the last two lines repeated, you know.
GENERAL CHORUS:
"And he diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-dee'd,
Till now he is the ruler of the Queen's navee."
And Harris never sees what an ass he is making of himself, and how he is
annoying a lot of people who never did him any harm. He honestly
imagines that he has given them a treat, and says he will sing another
comic song after supper.
Speaking of comic songs and parties, reminds me of a rather curious
incident at which I once assisted; which, as it throws much light upon
the inner mentalworking of human nature in general, ought, I think, to
be recorded in these pages.
We were a fashionable and highly cultured party. We had on our best
clothes, and we talked pretty, and were very happy - all except two young
fellows, students, just returned from Germany, commonplace young men, who
seemed restless and uncomfortable, as if they found the proceedings slow.
The truth was, we were too clever for them. Our brilliant but polished
conversation, and our high-class tastes, were beyond them. They were out
of place, among us. They never ought to have been there at all.
Everybody agreed upon that, later on.
We played MORCEAUX from the old German masters. We discussed philosophy
and ethics. We flirted with gracefuldignity. We were even humorous -
in a high-class way.
Somebody recited a French poem after supper, and we said it was
beautiful; and then a lady sang a sentimentalballad in Spanish, and it
made one or two of us weep - it was so pathetic.
And then those two young men got up, and asked us if we had ever heard
Herr Slossenn Boschen (who had just arrived, and was then down in the
supper-room) sing his great German comic song.
None of us had heard it, that we could remember.
The young men said it was the funniest song that had ever been written,
and that, if we liked, they would get Herr Slossenn Boschen, whom they
knew very well, to sing it. They said it was so funny that, when Herr
Slossenn Boschen had sung it once before the German Emperor, he (the
German Emperor) had had to be carried off to bed.
They said nobody could sing it like Herr Slossenn Boschen; he was so
intensely serious all through it that you might fancy he was reciting a
tragedy, and that, of course, made it all the funnier. They said he
never once suggested by his tone or manner that he was singing anything
funny - that would spoil it. It was his air of seriousness, almost of
pathos, that made it so irresistibly amusing.
We said we yearned to hear it, that we wanted a good laugh; and they went
downstairs, and fetched Herr Slossenn Boschen.
He appeared to be quite pleased to sing it, for he came up at once, and
sat down to the piano without another word.
"Oh, it will amuse you. You will laugh," whispered the two young men, as
they passed through the room, and took up an unobtrusive position behind
the Professor's back.
Herr Slossenn Boschen accompanied himself. The prelude did not suggest a
comic song exactly. It was a weird, soulful air. It quite made one's
flesh creep; but we murmured to one another that it was the German
method, and prepared to enjoy it.
I don't understand German myself. I learned it at school, but forgot
every word of it two years after I had left, and have felt much better
ever since. Still, I did not want the people there to guess my
ignorance; so I hit upon what I thought to be rather a good idea. I kept
my eye on the two young students, and followed them. When they tittered,
I tittered; when they roared, I roared; and I also threw in a little
snigger all by myself now and then, as if I had seen a bit of humour that
had escaped the others. I considered this particularly artful on my
part.
I noticed, as the song progressed, that a good many other people seemed
to have their eye fixed on the two young men, as well as myself. These
other people also tittered when the young men tittered, and roared when
the young men roared; and, as the two young men tittered and roared and
exploded with laughter pretty continuously all through the song, it went
exceedingly well.
And yet that German Professor did not seem happy. At first, when we
began to laugh, the expression of his face was one of intense surprise,
as if laughter were the very last thing he had expected to be greeted
with. We thought this very funny: we said his earnest manner was half
the humour. The slightest hint on his part that he knew how funny he was
would have completely ruined it all. As we continued to laugh, his
surprise gave way to an air of annoyance and indignation, and he scowled
fiercely round upon us all (except upon the two young men who, being
behind him, he could not see). That sent us into convulsions. We told
each other that it would be the death of us, this thing. The words
alone, we said, were enough to send us into fits, but added to his mock
seriousness - oh, it was too much!
In the last verse, he surpassed himself. He glowered round upon us with
a look of such concentrated ferocity that, but for our being forewarned
as to the German method of comic singing, we should have been nervous;
and he threw such a wailing note of agony into the weird music that, if
we had not known it was a funny song, we might have wept.
He finished amid a perfect shriek of laughter. We said it was the
funniest thing we had ever heard in all our lives. We said how strange
it was that, in the face of things like these, there should be a popular
notion that the Germans hadn't any sense of humour. And we asked the
Professor why he didn't translate the song into English, so that the
common people could understand it, and hear what a real comic song was
like.
Then Herr Slossenn Boschen got up, and went on awful. He swore at us in
German (which I should judge to be a singularly effective language for
that purpose), and he danced, and shook his fists, and called us all the
English he knew. He said he had never been so insulted in all his life.
It appeared that the song was not a comic song at all. It was about a
young girl who lived in the Hartz Mountains, and who had given up her
life to save her lover's soul; and he died, and met her spirit in the
- contrary [´kɔntrəri]
a.相反的 n.相反 (初中英语单词) - bother [´bɔðə] v.打扰 n.麻烦(事) (初中英语单词)
- chorus [´kɔ:rəs] n.合唱；齐声 v.合唱 (初中英语单词)
- anxiety [æŋ´zaiəti] n.挂念；渴望；焦虑的事 (初中英语单词)
- nervous [´nə:vəs] a.神经的；神经过敏的 (初中英语单词)
- argument [´ɑ:gjumənt] n.辩论；争论；论证 (初中英语单词)
- evident [´evidənt] a.明显的，明白的 (初中英语单词)
- thereupon [,ðeərə´pɔn] ad.因此；于是 (初中英语单词)
- opening [´əupəniŋ] n.开放；开端 a.开始的 (初中英语单词)
- laughter [´lɑ:ftə] n.笑，笑声 (初中英语单词)
- contest [kən´test, ´kɔntest] v.争辩 n.争夺；竞赛 (初中英语单词)
- explanation [,eksplə´neiʃən] n.解释；说明；辩解 (初中英语单词)
- pardon [´pɑ:dən] n.&vt.原谅；饶恕；赦免 (初中英语单词)
- cellar [´selə] n.地窑，地下室 (初中英语单词)
- audience [´ɔ:diəns] n.听众；观众；接见 (初中英语单词)
- mental [´mentl] a.精神的；心理的 (初中英语单词)
- working [´wə:kiŋ] a.工人的；劳动的 (初中英语单词)
- restless [´restləs] a.没有休息的 (初中英语单词)
- brilliant [´briliənt] a.灿烂的；杰出的 (初中英语单词)
- graceful [´greisfəl] a.优美的，流畅的 (初中英语单词)
- dignity [´digniti] n.尊严，尊贵；高官显贵 (初中英语单词)
- emperor [´empərə] n.皇帝 (初中英语单词)
- humour [´hju:mə] n.幽默，诙谐 (初中英语单词)
- earnest [´ə:nist] a.认真的 n.认真；诚恳 (初中英语单词)
- shriek [ʃri:k] v.&n.尖叫(声) (初中英语单词)
- effective [i´fektiv] a.有效的；有力的 (初中英语单词)
- strain [strein] vt.拉紧 vi.拖 n.张力 (高中英语单词)
- hostess [´həustis] n.女主人；旅馆女老板 (高中英语单词)
- injustice [in´dʒʌstis] n.不公正，不公平 (高中英语单词)
- compliment [´kɔmplimənt] n.敬意 vt.赞美；祝贺 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- fashionable [´fæʃənəbəl] a.流行的，时髦的 (高中英语单词)
- uncomfortable [ʌn´kʌmftəbəl] a.不舒服的，不自在的 (高中英语单词)
- ballad [´bæləd] n.民歌，民谣 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- intense [in´tens] a.强烈的；紧张的 (高中英语单词)
- indignation [,indig´neiʃən] n.愤慨；气愤 (高中英语单词)
- translate [trænz´leit, træns-] v.翻译；解释；说明 (高中英语单词)
- degenerate [di´dʒenərət, -reit] vi.腐化，堕落 (英语四级单词)
- accompaniment [ə´kʌmpənimənt] n.伴随物；伴奏(唱) (英语四级单词)
- recollect [rekə´lekt] v.重新集合；恢复 (英语四级单词)
- warning [´wɔ:niŋ] n.警告；前兆 a.预告的 (英语四级单词)
- unequal [ʌn´i:kwəl] a.不平等的；不同的 (英语四级单词)
- commonplace [´kɔmənpleis] a.平凡的；常见的 (英语四级单词)
- humorous [´hju:mərəs] a.富于幽默的，诙谐的 (英语四级单词)
- sentimental [,senti´mentl] a.感伤的；多愁善感的 (英语四级单词)
- continuously [kən´tinjuəsli] ad.连续(不断)地 (英语四级单词)
- annoyance [ə´nɔiəns] n.烦恼事(人) (英语四级单词)
- beaming [´bi:miŋ] a.笑吟吟的 (英语六级单词)
- expectant [ik´spektənt] a.期待的，预期的 (英语六级单词)
- ethics [´eθiks] n.伦理学；道德标准 (英语六级单词)
- seriousness [´siəriəsnis] n.严肃，认真；重要性 (英语六级单词)
- ferocity [fə´rɔsiti] n.凶残，凶猛，暴行 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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