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 0.87 · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Great Duke, your worthy honours to me, Shall still have place in my best thanks: Since you in me so much respect the Church, Thus much I'll promise; at my next return, His Holiness shall grant an Indulgence Both large and general. Our humble duty Seat you, my Lords: now let the Masquers enter. Uncase me; I am slain in jest, a pox upon your outlandish feminine antics: pull off my Visor; I shall bleed to death, ere I have time to feel where I am hurt: Duke, I am slain, off with my visor, for heaven's sake off with my visor. Slain? take this visor off; we are betrayed: Cease on them, two are yonder, hold, Ferentes; Follow the rest, apparent treachery. Holy St. Bennet, what a sight is this? B not amaz'd, great Princes, but vouchsafe Your audience; we are they have done this deed: Look here, the pledges of this false man's lust, Betrayed in our simplicities: He swore, And pawned his truth to marry each of us; Abused us all, unable to revenge Our public shames, but by his public fall, Which thus we have contrived; nor do we blush To call the glory of this murder ours: We did it, and we'll justify the deed. For when in sad complaints we claimed his vows, His answer was reproach; villain, is't true? I was too quickly won, you slave. I was too old, you dog. I (and I never shall forget the wrong) I was not fair enough, not fair enough For thee, thou monster; let me cut his gall, Not fair enough! oh scorn! not fair enough? O, o, oh.— Forbear, you monstrous women, do not add Murder to lust: your lives shall pay this forfeit. Pox upon all Codpiece extravagancy. I am peppered— oh, oh, oh— Duke forgive me. Had I rid any tame beasts, but Barbary wild Colts, I had not been thus jerked out of the saddle. My forfeit was in my blood, and my life hath answered it. Vengeance on all wild whores, I say,— oh 'tis true; Farewell generation of Hackneys.— oh. He is dead, to prison with those monstrous strumpets. Stay, I'll answer for my daughter. And I for mine:— oh well done, girls. I for yond Gentlewoman, Sir. Good my Lord, I am an innocent in the business. To prison with him; bear the body hence. Here's fatal sad presages, but 'tis just, He dies by murder, that hath lived in lust. ARt thou Caraffa? is there in thy veins One drop of blood that issued from the loins Of Pavy's ancient Dukes? or dost thou sit On great Lorenzo's seat, our glorious father, And canst not blush to be so far beneath The spirit of Heroic ancestors? Canst thou engross a slavish shame? which men, Far far below the Region of thy state, Not more abhor, then study to revenge. Thou an Italian? I could burst with rage, To think I have a brother so befooled, In giving patience to a harlot's lust.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Great Duke, your worthy honours to me, Shall still haue place in my best thanks: Since you in me so much respect the Church, Thus much I'le promise; at my next returne, His Holinesse shall grant an Indulgence Both large and generall. Our humble duty Seat you, my Lords: now let the Masquers enter. Vncase me; I am slaine in iest, a pox vpon your outlansh feminine Antiks: pull off my Visor; I shall bleed to death, ere I haue time to feele where I am hurt: Duke, I am slaine, off with my visor, for heauens sake off with my visor. Slaie? take this visor off; we are betray'd: Ceaze on them, two are yonder, hold, Ferentes; Follow the rest, apparant treachery. St. Bennet, what a sight is this? B not amaz'd, great Princes, but vouchsafe Your audience; we are they haue done this deed: Looke here, the pledges of this false mans lust, Betray'd in our simplicities: He swore, And pawn'd his truth to marry each of vs; Abus'd vs all, vnable to reuenge Our publike shames, but by his publike fall, Which thus we haue contri'd; nor doe we blush To call the glory of this murther ours: We did it, and wee'll iustifie the deed. For when in sad complaints we claym'd his vowes, His answer was reproach; villaine, is't true? I was too quickly wonne, you slaue. I was too old, you dogge. I (and I neuer shall forget the wrong) I was not faire enough, not faire enough For thee, thou monster; let me cut his gall, Not faire enough! oh scorne! not faire enough? O, o, oh.— Forbeare, you monstrous women, doe not adde Muther to lust: your liues shall pay this forfeit. Pox vpon all Codpeece extrauagancy. I am pepper'd—oh, oh, oh—Duke forgiue me. Had I rid any tame beasts, but Barbary wild Colts, I had not bin thus jerk'd out of the saddle. My forfeit was in my blood, and my life hath answer'd it. Vengeance on all wild whores, I say,—oh 'tis true; Farewell generation of Hackneyes.—ooh. He is dead, to prison with those monstrous strumpets. Stay, I'le answer for my daughter. And I for mine:—oh well done, girles. I for yon Gentlewoman, Sir. Good my Lord, I am an innocent in the businesse. To prison with him; beare the body hence. Her's fatall sad presages, but 'tis iust, He dyes by murther, that hath liu'd in lust. ARt thou Caraffa? is there in thy veynes One drop of blood that issued from the loynes Of Pauy's ancient Dukes? or dost thou sit On great Lorenzo's seat, our glorious father, And canst not blush to be so farre beneath The spirit of Heroicke ancestors? Canst thou ingrosse a slauish shame? which men, Far far below the Region of thy state, Not more abhorre, then study to reuenge. Thou an Ialian? I could burst with rage, To thinke I haue a brother so befool'd, In patience to a harlots lust.