Ford, John · published 1633 · first performed or written 1632 [1632-1633] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.86 · 535 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Come my Biancha, revel in mine arms, Whiles I, wrapped in my admiration, view Lilies and Roses growing in thy cheeks. Fernando! oh thou half myself! no joy Could make my pleasures full without thy presence! I am a Monarch of felicity, Proud in a pair of jewels, rich and beautiful; A perfect Friend, a Wife above compare. Sir, if a man so low in rank, may hope By loyal duty, and devoted zeal, To hold a Correspondence in friendship With one so mighty as the Duke of Pavy, My uttermost ambition is to climb To those deserts may give the style of servant. Of partner in my Dukedom, in my heart, As freely as the privilege of blood Hath made them mine, Phillippo and Fernando Shall be without distinction: Look, Biancha, On this good man; in all respects to him Be as to me: only the name of husband, And reverent observance of our bed Shall differ us in persons, else in soul We are all one. I shall, in best of Love, Regard the bosom-partner of my Lord. Ferentes. Madam. You are one love's Courtship, He had some change of words; 'twere no lost labour To stuste your Table-books, the man speaks wisely. I'm glad your Highness is so pleasant. Sister. My Lord and brother. You are too silent; Quicken your sad remembrance: though the loss Of your dead husband be of more account Then slight neglect, yet 'tis a sin against The state of Princes to exceed a mean In mourning for the dead. Should form, my Lord, Prevail above affection? no, it cannot. You have yourself here a right noble Duchess, (Virtuous at least) and should your grace now pay (Which heaven forbid) the debt you owe to Nature, I dare presume, she'd not so soon forget A Prince that thus advanced her.— Madam, could you? Bitter and shrewd. Sister, I should too much bewray my weakness, To give a resolution on a passion I never felt nor feared. A modest answer. If credit may be given to a face, My Lord, I'll undertake on her behalf; Her words are trusty Heralds to her mind. Exceeding good; the man will undertake: Observe it, DAvolos. I do, Lady; 'tis a smooth praise. Friend, in thy judgement I approve thy love, And love thee better for thy judging mine: Though my gray-headed Senate in the laws Of strict opinion and severe dispute, Would tie the limits of our free effects, (Like superstitious Jews, to match with none But in a tribe of Princes like ourselves) Gross nurtured slaves, who force their wretched souls To crouch to profit; nay, for trash and wealth, Dote on some crooked or misshapen form, Hugging wise Nature's lame deformity, Begetting creatures ugly as themselves: But why should Princes do so, that command The store-house of the earth's hid minerals? No, my Biancha, thou art to me as dear As if thy portion had been Europe's riches, Since in thine eyes lies more than these are worth: Set on; they shall be strangers to my heart That envy thee thy Fortunes: Come, Fernando, my but divided self, what we have done We are only debtor to heaven for.— On.
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Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Come my Biancha, reuell in mine armes, Whiles I, wrapt in my admiration, view Lillies and Roses growing in thy cheekes. Fernando! oh thou halfe my selfe! no ioy Could make my pleasures full without thy presence! I am a Monarch of felicitie, Proud in a paire of Iewels, rich and beautifull; A perfect Friend, a Wife aboue compare. Sir, if a man so low in ranke, may hope By loyall duty, and deuoted zeale, To hold a Correspondence in friendship With one so mighty as the Duke of Pavy, My vttermost ambition is to climbe To those deserts may giue the stile of seruant. Of partner in my Dukedome, in my heart, As freely as the priuilege of blood Hath made them mine, Phillippo and Fernando Shall be without distinction: Looke, Biancha, On this good man; in all respects to him Be as to me: onely the name of husband, And reuerent obseruance of our bed Shall differ vs in persons, else in soule We are all one. I shall, in best of Loue, Regard the bosome-partner of my Lord. Ferentes. Madam. You are one loues Courtship, He had some change of words; 'twere no lost labour To stuste your Table-bookes, the man speakes wisely. I'me glad your Highnesse is so pleasant. Sister. My Lord and brother. You are too silent; Quicken your sad remembrance: though the losse Of your dead husband be of more account Then slight neglect, yet 'tis a sinne against The state of Princes to exceed a meane In mourning for the dead. Should forme, my Lord, Preuaile aboue affection? no, it cannot. You haue your selfe here a right noble Dutchesse, (Vertuous at least) and should your grace now pay (Which heauen forbid) the debt you owe to Nature, I dare presume, shee'd not so soone forget A Prince that thus aduanc'd her.—Madam, could you? Bitter and shrewd. Sister, I should too much bewray my weaknesse, To giue a resolution on a passion I neuer felt nor fear'd. A modest answer. If credit may be giuen to a face, My Lord, I'le vndertake on her behalfe; Her words are trusty Heralds to her mind. Exceeding good; the man will vndertake: Obserue it, Da'uolos. I doe, Lady; 'tis a smooth prayse. Friend, in thy iudgement I approue thy loue, And loue thee better for thy iudging mine: Though my gray-headed Senate in the lawes Of strickt opinion and seuere dispute, Would tye the limits of our free effects, (Like superstitious Iewes, to match with none But in a tribe of Princes like our selues) Grosse nurtur'd slaues, who force their wretched soules To crouch to profit; nay, for trash and wealth, Dote on some crooked or mishapen forme, Hugging wise Natures lame deformity, Begetting creatures vgly as themselues: But why should Princes doe so, that command The store-house of the earths hid minerals? No, my Bianchae, thou art to me as deare As if thy portion had bin Europes riches, Since in thine eyes lyes more than these are worth: Set on; they shall be strangers to my heart That enuy thee thy Fortunes: Come, Fernando, my but divided selfe, what we haue done We are onely debtor to heauen for.—On.