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 · 465 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
What gone! well, go thy ways; I see the more I humble my firm love, the more he shuns Both it and me: so plain! then 'tis too late To hope; change peevish passion to contempt: whatever rages in my blood I feel, Fool he shall know I was not borne to kneel, Iulia mine own— speak softly. What? hast thou learned out any thing of this pale widgeon? Speak soft, what does she say? Foe, more than all; there's not an hour shall pass, But I shall have intelligence, she swears. Whole nights; you know my mind, I hope you'll give The gown you promised me. Honest Iulia, peace: thouart a woman worth a kingdom: let me never be believed now, but I think it will be my destiny to be thy husband at last: what though thou have a child, or perhaps two? Never but one, I swear. Well, one; is that such a matter? I like thee the better for't: it shows thou hast a good tenantable and fertile womb, worth twenty of your barren, dry, bloodless devourers of youth; but come, I will talk with thee more privately; the Duke has a journey in hand, and will not be long absent: see, 'a is come already.— let's pass away easily. Troubled! yes, I have cause: O Biancha! Here was my fate engraven in thy brow, This smooth fair polished table; in thy cheeks Nature summed up thy dower: 'twas not wealth, The Miser's god, nor Royalty of blood, Advanced thee to my bed; but love, and hope Of Virtue, that might equal those sweet looks: If then thou shouldst betray my trust, thy faith, To the pollution of a base desire, Thou wert a wretched woman. Speaks your love, Or fear, my Lord? Both, both; Biancha, know, nightly languish of my dull unrest Hath stamped a strong opinion; for methought (Mark what I say) as I in glorious pomp Was sitting on my Throne, whiles I had hemmed My best beloved Biancha in mine arms, She reached my cap of State, and cast it down Beneath her foot, and spurned it in the dust; Whiles I (oh 'twas a dream too full of fate) Was stooping down to reach it; on my head, Fernando, like a Traitor to his vows, Clapped, in disgrace, a Coronet of horns: But by the honour of anointed kings, Were both of you hid in a rock of fire, Guarded by ministers of flaming hell, I have a sword ('tis here) should make my way Through fire, through darkness, death, and all To hew your lust engendered flesh to shreds, Pound you to mortar, cut your throats, and mince Your flesh to mites; I will,— start not,— I will. Mercy protect me, will ye murder me?
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)
What gone! well, goe thy wayes; I see the mor I humble my firme loue, the more he shuns Both it and me: so plaine! then 'tis too late To hope; change peeuish passion to contempt: What euer rages in my blood I feele, Foole he shall know I was not borne to kneele, Iulia mine owne—speake softly. What? hast thou learn'd out any thing of this pale widgeon? Speake soft, what does she say? Fo, more then all; there's not an houre shall passe, But I shall haue intelligence, she sweares. Whole nights; you know my mind, I hope you'll giue The gowne you promis'd me. Honest Iulia, peace: th'art a woman worth a kingdome: let me neuer be beleeued now, but I thinke it will bee my destiny to be thy husband at last: what tho thou haue a child, or perhaps two? Neuer but one, I sweare. Well, one; is that such a matter? I like thee the better for't: it shewes thou hast a good tenant-able and fertile wombe, worth twenty of your barren, dry, bloodlesse deuourers of youth; but come, I will talke with thee more priuately; the Duke has a iourney in hand, and will not be long absent: see, 'a is come already.—let's passe away easily. Troubled! yes, I haue cause: O Blancha! Here wa my fae engrauen in thy brow, This smooh polsht table; in thy cheeks Nature sum'd vp thy dower: 'twas not wealth, The Myser god, nr Royalty of blood, Aduac'd thee to my bed; bt loue, and hope Of Vertue, that might equall those sweet lookes: If then thou shouldst betray my trust, thy faith, To the pollution of a base desire, Thou wert a wretched woman. Speakes your loue, Or eare, my Lord? Both, both; Biancha, know, Th ightly languish of my dll vnrest Hath stampt a strong opinion; for me thoght (Marke what I say) as I in glorious pompe Was sitting on my Throne, whiles I had hemm'd My best blou'd Biancha in mine armes, She reacht my cap of State, and cast it downe Beneath her foot, and spurn'd it in the dust; Whiles I (oh 'twas a dreame too full of fate) Was stooping downe to reach it; on my head, Fernando, like a Tray to to his vowes, Clapt, in disgrace, a Coronet of horues: But by the honour of anoynted kings, Were both of you hid in a rocke of fire, Guarded by ministers of flaming hell, I haue a sword ('is here) should make my way Through fire, through darknesse, death, and all To hew your lust ingendred flesh to shreds, Pound you to morter, cut your throats, and mince Your lesh to mites; I will,— not,—I will. Mercy protect me, will ye murder me?