Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
ghost
of
the
Lady
Holy
,
who
beat
her
little
boy
to
death
,
still
walks
there
at
night
,
trying
to
wash
its
ghostly
hands
clean
in
a
ghostly
basin
.
Warwick
,
the
king-maker
,
rests
there
,
careless
now
about
such
trivial
things
as
earthly
kings
and
earthly
kingdoms
;
and
Salisbury
,
who
did
good
service
at
Poitiers
.
Just
before
you
come
to
the
abbey
,
and
right
on
the
river
's
bank
,
is
Bisham
Church
,
and
,
perhaps
,
if
any
tombs
are
worth
inspecting
,
they
are
the
tombs
and
monuments
in
Bisham
Church
.
It
was
while
floating
in
his
boat
under
the
Bisham
beeches
that
Shelley
,
who
was
then
living
at
Marlow
(
you
can
see
his
house
now
,
in
West
street
)
,
composed
The
Revolt
of
Islam
.
By
Hurley
Weir
,
a
little
higher
up
,
I
have
often
thought
that
I
could
stay
a
month
without
having
sufficient
time
to
drink
in
all
the
beauty
of
the
scene
.
The
village
of
Hurley
,
five
minutes
'
walk
from
the
lock
,
is
as
old
a
little
spot
as
there
is
on
the
river
,
dating
,
as
it
does
,
to
quote
the
quaint
phraseology
of
those
dim
days
,
"
from
the
times
of
King
Sebert
and
King
Offa
.
"
Just
past
the
weir
(
going
up
)
is
Danes
'
Field
,
where
the
invading
Danes
once
encamped
,
during
their
march
to
Gloucestershire
;
and
a
little
further
still
,
nestling
by
a
sweet
corner
of
the
stream
,
is
what
is
left
of
Medmenham
Abbey
.
The
famous
Medmenham
monks
,
or
"
Hell
Fire
Club
,
"
as
they
were
commonly
called
,
and
of
whom
the
notorious
Wilkes
was
a
member
,
were
a
fraternity
whose
motto
was
"
Do
as
you
please
,
"
and
that
invitation
still
stands
over
the
ruined
doorway
of
the
abbey
.
Many
years
before
this
bogus
abbey
,
with
its
congregation
of
irreverent
jesters
,
was
founded
,
there
stood
upon
this
same
spot
a
monastery
of
a
sterner
kind
,
whose
monks
were
of
a
somewhat
different
type
to
the
revellers
that
were
to
follow
them
,
five
hundred
years
afterwards
.
The
Cistercian
monks
,
whose
abbey
stood
there
in
the
thirteenth
century
,
wore
no
clothes
but
rough
tunics
and
cowls
,
and
ate
no
flesh
,
nor
fish
,
nor
eggs
.
They
lay
upon
straw
,
and
they
rose
at
midnight
to
mass
.
They
spent
the
day
in
labour
,
reading
,
and
prayer
;
and
over
all
their
lives
there
fell
a
silence
as
of
death
,
for
no
one
spoke
.
A
grim
fraternity
,
passing
grim
lives
in
that
sweet
spot
,
that
God
had
made
so
bright
!
Strange
that
Nature
's
voices
all
around
them
--
the
soft
singing
of
the
waters
,
the
whisperings
of
the
river
grass
,
the
music
of
the
rushing
wind
--
should
not
have
taught
them
a
truer
meaning
of
life
than
this
.
They
listened
there
,
through
the
long
days
,
in
silence
,
waiting
for
a
voice
from
heaven
;
and
all
day
long
and
through
the
solemn
night
it
spoke
to
them
in
myriad
tones
,
and
they
heard
it
not
.
From
Medmenham
to
sweet
Hambledon
Lock
the
river
is
full
of
peaceful
beauty
,
but
,
after
it
passes
Greenlands
,
the
rather
uninteresting
looking
river
residence
of
my
newsagent
--
a
quiet
unassuming
old
gentleman
,
who
may
often
be
met
with
about
these
regions
,
during
the
summer
months
,
sculling
himself
along
in
easy
vigorous
style
,
or
chatting
genially
to
some
old
lock-keeper
,
as
he
passes
through
--
until
well
the
other
side
of
Henley
,
it
is
somewhat
bare
and
dull
.
We
got
up
tolerably
early
on
the
Monday
morning
at
Marlow
,
and
went
for
a
bathe
before
breakfast
;
and
,
coming
back
,
Montmorency
made
an
awful
ass
of
himself
.
The
only
subject
on
which
Montmorency
and
I
have
any
serious
difference
of
opinion
is
cats
.
I
like
cats
;
Montmorency
does
not
.
When
I
meet
a
cat
,
I
say
,
"
Poor
Pussy
!
"
and
stop
down
and
tickle
the
side
of
its
head
;
and
the
cat
sticks
up
its
tail
in
a
rigid
,
cast-iron
manner
,
arches
its
back
,
and
wipes
its
nose
up
against
my
trousers
;
and
all
is
gentleness
and
peace
.
When
Montmorency
meets
a
cat
,
the
whole
street
knows
about
it
;
and
there
is
enough
bad
language
wasted
in
ten
seconds
to
last
an
ordinarily
respectable
man
all
his
life
,
with
care
.
I
do
not
blame
the
dog
(
contenting
myself
,
as
a
rule
,
with
merely
clouting
his
head
or
throwing
stones
at
him
)
,
because
I
take
it
that
it
is
his
nature
.
