Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

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"I am glad I have done being in love with him. I should not like a man who is so soon discomposed by a hot morning. Harriet's sweet easy temper will not mind it."
"That may be —but not by sketches in Swisserland. You will never go to Swisserland. Your uncle and aunt will never allow you to leave England."
"You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a few hardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?"
"You are not quite so miserable, though, as when you first came. Go and eat and drink a little more, and you will do very well. Another slice of cold meat, another draught of Madeira and water, will make you nearly on a par with the rest of us."
"We are going to Box Hill to-morrow;—you will join us. It is not Swisserland, but it will be something for a young man so much in want of a change. You will stay, and go with us?"
"But you may come again in the cool of to-morrow morning."
"Then pray stay at Richmond."
"These are difficulties which you must settle for yourself. Chuse your own degree of crossness. I shall press you no more."
"Yes, you were very cross; and I do not know what about, except that you were too late for the best strawberries. I was a kinder friend than you deserved. But you were humble. You begged hard to be commanded to come."
"It is hotter to-day."
"You are comfortable because you are under command."
"Perhaps I intended you to say so, but I meant self-command. You had, somehow or other, broken bounds yesterday, and run away from your own management; but to-day you are got back again—and as I cannot be always with you, it is best to believe your temper under your own command rather than mine."
"Dating from three o'clock yesterday. My perpetual influence could not begin earlier, or you would not have been so much out of humour before."
"Your gallantry is really unanswerable. But
nobody speaks except ourselves, and it is rather too much to be talking nonsense for the entertainment of seven silent people."
"Oh! no, no"—
"Upon no account in the world. It is the very last thing I would stand the brunt of just now. Let me hear any thing rather than what you are all thinking of. I will not say quite all. There are one or two, perhaps,
whose thoughts I might not be afraid of knowing."
"Ah! ma'am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me —but you will be limited as to number —only three at once."
"No, no,"
"it will not reckon low. A conundrum of Mr. Weston's shall clear him and his next neighbour. Come, sir, pray let me hear it."
"And make her like myself."
"Very well. I undertake the commission. You shall have a charming wife."
"Nay, how could I help saying what I did?—Nobody could have helped it. It was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand me."
"Oh!"
"I know there is not a better creature in the world: but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are most unfortunately blended in her."
"It must be a severe trial to them all. She had understood it was to be delayed till Colonel Campbell's return."
"Where— may I ask?—is Miss Fairfax going?"
"Mrs. Elton, I suppose, has been the person to whom Miss Fairfax owes —"
"You spent the evening with Mrs. Elton?"
"Mr. Knightley was there too, was he?"
"Miss Fairfax, I suppose, though you were not aware of it, had been making up her mind the whole day?"
"Whenever the time may come, it must be unwelcome to her and all her friends—but I hope her engagement will have every alleviation that is possible— I mean, as to the character and manners of the family."
"Ah! madam,"
"if other children are at all like what I remember to have been myself, I should think five times the amount of what I have ever yet heard named as a salary on such occasions, dearly earned."
"And when is Miss Fairfax to leave you?"
"Her friends must all be sorry to lose her; and will not Colonel and Mrs. Campbell be sorry to find that she has engaged herself before their return?"
"Nothing at all. But is not this a sudden scheme?"
"Poor Mrs. Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal: more than any body had ever supposed—and continual pain would try the temper. It was a sad event— a great shock— with all her faults, what would Mr. Churchill do without her? Mr. Churchill's loss would be dreadful indeed. Mr. Churchill would never get over it."—
"Is she unwell?"
"Certainly. This moment, if you please. It is impossible to refuse what you ask in such a way. But what can be the matter?—Is she really not ill?"
"Now,"—
"now Mr. Weston, do let me know what has happened."
"Break it to me,"
"Good God!—Mr. Weston, tell me at once.—Something has happened in Brunswick Square. I know it has. Tell me, I charge you tell me this moment what it is."
"Mr. Weston do not trifle with me.—Consider how many of my dearest friends are now in Brunswick Square. Which of them is it?—I charge you by all that is sacred, not to attempt concealment."
"Your word!—why not your honour!—why not say upon your honour, that it has nothing to do with any of them? Good Heavens!—What can be to be broke to me, that does not relate to one of that family?"
"Who is that gentleman on horseback?"
"Has your son been with you, then?"
"What is it my dear friend? Something of a very unpleasant nature, I find, has occurred;—do let me know directly what it is. I have been walking all this way in complete suspense. We both abhor suspense. Do not let mine continue longer. It will do you good to speak of your distress, whatever it may be."

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