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 0.84 · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Not this; I'll none of this: 'tis not so fit: Why should I kill her? she may live and change, Or— Dost thou halt? faint Coward, dost thou wish. To blemish all thy glorious Ancestors? Is this thy Courage? Ha I say you so too? Give me thy hand, Biancha. Here. Farewell. Thus go in everlasting sleep to dwell: Here's blood for lust, & sacrifice for wrong 'Tis bravely done; thou hast struck home at once: Live to repent too late: Commend my love To thy true friend, my love to him that owes it, Nigh Tragedy to thee, my heart to— to— Fernand. oo oh. Sister she's dead. Then, whiles thy rage is warm, Pursue the cancer of her trespasses. Good: I'll slake no time whiles I am hot in blood. Here's royal vengeance: this becomes the state Of his disgrace, and my unbounded fate.— May we give credit to your words, my Lord? Speak on your honour. Let me die accursed, If ever, through the progress of my life. I did as much as reap the benefit Of any favour from her, save a kiss: A better woman never blessed the earth. Be shrew my heart, young Lord, but I believe thee: Alas, kind Lady, 'tis a Lordship to a dozen of points, But the jealous mad man will in his fury, Offer her some violence. If it be thus, 'twere fit you rather kept A guard about you for your own defence, Then to be guarded for security Of his Revenge; he's extremely moved. Passion of my body, my Lord, if 'a come in his odd fits to you, in the case you are, 'a might cut your throat ere you could provide a weapon of defence: nay, rather than it shall be so, hold take my sword in your hand, 'tis none of the sprucest, but 'tis a tough fox, will not fail his master: Come what will come, take it, I'll answer't I: in the mean time, Petruchio and I will back to the Duchess lodging.— Well thought on; and in despite of all his rage, Rescue the virtuous Lady. Look to yourself, my Lord, the Duke comes. Stand, and behold thy executioner, Thou glorious Traitor: I will keep no form Of Ceremonious law, to try thy guilt: Look here, 'tis written on my poniards point, The bloody evidence of thy untruth, Wherein thy Conscience, and the wrathful rod Of heaven's scourge for lust, at once give up The verdict of thy crying villainies. I see thouart armed; prepare, I crave no odds, Greater then is the justice of my cause. Fight, or I'll kill thee. Duke I fear thee not: But first I charge thee, as thou art a Prince, Tell me, how hast thou used thy Duchess? How? To add affliction to thy trembling ghost, Look on my daggers crimson die, and judge.
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)
Not this; I'le none of this: 'tis not so fit: Why should I kill her? she may liue and change, Or— Dost thou halt? faint Coward, dost thou wish. To blemish all thy glorious Ancestors? Is this thy Courage? Ha I say you so too? Giue me thy hand, Biancha. Here. Farewell. Thus goe in euerlasting sleepe to dwell: Here's blood for lust, & sacrifice for wrong 'Tis brauely done; thou hast strucke home at once: Liue to repent too late: Commend my loue To thy true friend, my loue to him that owes it, Ny Tragedy to thee, my hart to—to—Fernand. oo oh. Sister she's dead. Then, whiles thy rage is warme, Pursue the caer of her trespasses. Good: Ile slake no time whiles I am hot in blood. Here's royall vengeance: this becomes the state Of his disgrace, and my vnbounded fate.— May we giue credit to your words, my Lord? Speake on your honour. Let me dye accurst, If euer, through the progresse of my life. I did as much as reape the benefit Of any fauour from her, saue a kisse: A better woman neuer blest the earth. Be shrew my heart, young Lord, but I beleeue thee: Alas, kind Lady, 'tis a Lordship to a dozen of poynts, But the jalous mad man will in his fury, Offer her some violence. If it be thus, 'twere fit you rather kept A guard about you for your owne defence, Then to be guarded for security Of his Reuenge; he's extreamely mou'd. Passion of my body, my Lord, if'a come in his odde fits to you, in the case you are,'a might cut your throat e're you could prouide a weapon of defence: nay, rather then it shal be so, hold take my sword in your hand, 'tis none of the sprusest, but 'tis a tough fox, wil not faile his master: Come what wil come, take it, I'le answer' I: in the meane time, Petruchio and I wil back to the Dutchesse lodging.— Well thought on; and in despight of all his rage, Rescue the vertuous Lady. Looke to your selfe, my Lord, the Duke comes. Stand, and behold thy executioner, Thou glorious Traeytor: I will keepe no forme Of Ceremonius law, to try thy guilt: Looke here, 'tis written on my ponyards point, The bloody euidence of thy vntruth, Wherein thy Conscience, and the wrathfull rod Of heauens scourge for lust, at once giue vp The verdict of thy crying villanies. I see th'art arm'd; prepare, I craue no odds, Greater then is the iustice of my cause. Fight, or I'le kill thee. Duke I feare thee not: But first I charge thee, as thou art a Prince, Tell me, how hast thou vs'd thy Dutchesse? How? To adde affliction to thy trembling ghost, Looke on my daggers crimson dye, and idge.