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Middle English – The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer 

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Middle English – The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer 

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Renaissance – Sonnet IX by W. Shakespeare 

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Renaissance – Sonnet IX by W. Shakespeare 

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Cavalier Poets – "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time" by Robert Herrick

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Cavalier Poets – "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time" by Robert Herrick

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Restoration – "London Reborn" by John Dryden

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Restoration – "London Reborn" by John Dryden

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The Rise of the Novel – Oroonoko by Aphra Behn 

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The Rise of the Novel – Oroonoko by Aphra Behn 

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I do not pretend, in giving you the History of this ROYAL SLAVE, to entertain my Reader with the Adventures of a feign’d Hero, whose Life and Fortunes Fancy may manage at the Poet’s Pleasure; nor in relating the Truth, design to adorn it with any Accidents, but such as arrived in earnest to him: And it shall come simply into the World, recommended by its own proper Merits, and natural Intrigues; there being enough of Reality to support it, and to render it diverting, without the Addition of Invention.

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The Rise of the Novel (II) – Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe 

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The Rise of the Novel (II) – Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe 

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I was born in the Year 1632, in the City of York, of a good Family, tho' not of that Country, my Father being a Foreigner of Breman, who settled first at Hull : He got a good Estate by Merchandize, and leaving off his Trade, lived afterward at York, from whence he had married my Mother, whose Relations were named Robinson, a very good Family in that Country, and from whom I was call'd Robinson Kreutznaer ; but by the usual Corruption of Words in England, we are now call'd, nay we call our selves, and write our Name Crusoe, and so my Companions always call'd me.

I had two elder Brothers, one of which was Lieutenant Collonel to an EnglishRegiment of Foot in Flanders, formerly commanded by the famous Coll. Lockhart, and was killed at the Battle near Dunkirk against the Spaniards ; What became of my second Brother I never knew, any more than my Father or Mother did know what was become of me.

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Romanticism – "The Solitary Reaper" by W. Wordsworth

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Romanticism – "The Solitary Reaper" by W. Wordsworth

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‘The principal object, then, which I proposed to myself in these poemswas to choose incidents and situations  from common life, and torelate or describe them, throughout, as far as was possible, in a selection of language really used by men; and, at the same time, tothrow over them a certain colouring of imagination […]  Low and rustic life was generally chosen, because in that condition, the essentialpassions of the heart find a better soil in which they can attain theirmaturity, are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more emphaticlanguage.’ (NA, p. 295)

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Modernism – Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf 

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Modernism – Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf 

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Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.

For Lucy had her work cut out for her. The doors would be taken off their hinges; Rumpelmayer's men were coming. And then, thought Clarissa Dalloway, what a morning—fresh as if issued to children on a beach.

What a lark! What a plunge! For so it had always seemed to her, when, with a little squeak of the hinges, which she could hear now, she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the open air. How fresh, how calm, stiller than this of course, the air was in the early morning; like the flap of a wave; the kiss of a wave; chill and sharp and yet (for a girl of eighteen as she then was) solemn, feeling as she did, standing there at the open window, that something awful was about to happen; looking at the flowers, at the trees with the smoke winding off them and the rooks rising, falling; standing and looking until Peter Walsh said, "Musing among the vegetables?"—was that it?—"I prefer men to cauliflowers"—was that it? He must have said it at breakfast one morning when she had gone out on to the terrace—Peter Walsh. He would be back from India one of these days, June or July, she forgot which, for his letters were awfully dull; it was his sayings one remembered; his eyes, his pocket-knife, his smile, his grumpiness and, when millions of things had utterly vanished—how strange it was!—a few sayings like this about cabbages.

She stiffened a little on the kerb, waiting for Durtnall's van to pass. A charming woman, Scrope Purvis thought her (knowing her as one does know people who live next door to one in Westminster); a touch of the bird about her, of the jay, blue-green, light, vivacious, though she was over fifty, and grown very white since her illness. There she perched, never seeing him, waiting to cross, very upright.

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‘I got him to propose to me yes first I gave him the bit of seedcake out of my mouth and it was leap year like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long kiss I near lost my breath yes he said I was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a woman’s body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a woman is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say yes […] and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes. (Ulysses, 933)