Ford, John · published 1633 · first performed or written 1632 [1632-1633] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
We, my Lord, were talking of the horsemanship in France Which, as your friend reports, he thinks exceeds All other Nations. How? why, have not we As gallant Riders here? None that I know. Pish, your affection leads you; I dare Wage a thousand Ducats not a man in France Outrides Roseilli. I shall quit this wrong. I said as much, my Lord. I have not seen His practice, since my coming back. Where is he? How is't we see him not? What's this? what's this? I hear he was commanded from the Court. Oh confusion on this villainous occasion. True; but we meant a day or two at most, Should be his furthest term; not yet returned? Where's D'avolos? My Lord. You know our minds, How comes it thus to pass, we miss Roseilli. My Lord, in a sudden discontent I hear he departed towards Benevento, determining (as I am given to understand) to pass to Seville, minding to visit his cousin Don Pedro de Toledo, in the Spanish Court. The Spanish Court! now by the blessed bones Of good S. Francis, let there posts be sent To call him back, or I will post thy head Beneath my foot; ha! you, you know my mind, Look that you get him back; the Spanish Court, And without our Commission,— say! Here's fine juggling. Good Sir be not so moved. Fie, fie, Biancha; 'Tis such a gross indignity, I'd rather Have lost seven years' revenue.— The Spanish Court! How now, what ails our sister? On the sudden I fall a bleeding, 'tis an ominous sign; Pray heaven it turn to good.— Your highness leave.— Look to her; come Fernando, come Biancha, Let's strive to overpass this choleric heat: Sirrah, see that you trifle not. How we, Who sway the manage of authority, May be abused by smooth officious agents? But look well to our sister.—— Nephew, please you To see your friend tonight? Yes, Uncle, yes: Thus bodies walk unsold; mine eyes but follows My heart entombed in yonder goodly shrine: Life without her, is but death's subtle snares, And I am but a Coffin to my cares. BEard be confined to neatness, that no hair May stover up to prick my mistress lip, More rude than bristles of a Porcupine. Giacopo. My Lord. Am I all sweet behind? I have no poulterer's nose, but your apparel sits About you most debonairely. But Giacopo, with what grace do my words proceed out of my mouth? have I a moving countenance? is there harmony in my voice? canst thou perceive, as it were, a handsomeness of shape in my very breath, as it is formed into syllable, Giacopo? Yes indeed, Sir, I do feel a savour as pleasant as— a Glister-pipe,—— Calamus or Civet. Observe him and be silent. Hold thou the glass, Giacopo, and mark me with what exceeding comeliness I could court the Lady marquess if it come to the push. Sister, you are his aim. A subject fit To be the stall of laughter.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
We, my Lord, were talking of the horsmanship in France Which, as your friend reports, he thinks exceeds All other Nations. How? why, haue not we As gallant Riders here? None that I know. Pish, your affection leads you; I dare Wage a thousand Ducats not a man in France Out-rides Roseilli. I shall quit this wrong. I said as much, my Lord. I haue not seene His practice, since my comming backe. Where is he? How is't we see him not? What's this? what's this? I heare he was commanded from the Court. Oh confusion on this villanous occasion. True; but we meant a day or two at most, Should be his furthest terme; not yet return'd? Where's D'auolos? My Lord. You know our minds, How comes it thus to passe, we misse Roseilli. My Lord, in a sudden discontent I heare he departed towards Beneuento, determining (as I am giuen to vnderstand) to passe to Sil, minding to visit his Cozen Don Pedro de Toledo, in the Spanish Court. The Spanish Court! now by the blessed bones Of good S. Francis, let there postes be sent To call him backe, or I will poste thy head Beneath my foot; ha! you, you know my mind, Looke that you get him backe; the Spanish Court, And without our Commission,—say! Here's fine jugling. Good Sir be not so mou'd. Fie, fie, Biancha; 'Tis such a grosse indignity, I'de rather Haue lost seuen yeares reuenue.—The Spanish Court! How now, what ayles our sister? On the sudden I fall a bleeding, 'tis an ominous signe; Pray heauen it turne to good.—Your highnes leaue.— Looke to her; come Fernando, come Biancha, Let's striue to ouerpasse this cholericke heat: Sirra, see that you trifle not. How we, Who sway the mannage of authority, May be abus'd by smooth officious agents? But looke well to our sister.—— Nephew, please you To see your friend to night? Yes, Vnckle, yes: Thus bodies walke vnsold; mine eyes but followes My heart intomb'd in yonder goodly shrine: Life without her, is but death's subtill snares, And I am but a Coffin to my cares. BEard be confin'd to neatnesse, that no haire May stouer vp to pricke my mistris lip, More rude than bristles of a Porcupine. Giacopo. My Lord. Am I all sweet behind? I haue no Powlterers nose, but your apparell sits About you most debonarely. But Giacopo, with what grace doe my words proceed out of my mouth? haue I a mouing countenance? is there harmony in my voyce? canst thou perceiue, as it were, a hansomenesse of shape in my very breath, as it is formed into syllable, Giacopo? Yes indeed, Sir, I doe feele a sauour as pleasant as—a Glister-pipe,——Calamus or Ciuet. Obserue him and be silent. Hold thou the glasse, Giacopo, and marke me with what exceeding comlinesse I could court the Lady Marquesse if it come to the push. Sister, you are his ayme. A subiect fit To be the stall of laughter.