Ford, John · published 1633 · first performed or written 1630 [c.1630-1633] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation typicality 0.84 · 471 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
The Princess threw it t'ee: True, and she said— well I remember what. Her cousin Prince would beg it. Yes, and parted In anger at your taking on't. Penthea! Oh thou hast pleaded with a powerful language. I want a fee to gratify thy merit. But I will do— What is't you say? In anger, In anger let him part; for could his breath, Like whirlwinds, toss such servile slaves as lick The dust his footsteps print, into a vapour, It durst not stir a hair of mine; It should not, I'd rend it up by th' roots first. To be any thing Calantha smiles on, is to be a blessing More sacred than a petty-Prince of Argos Can wish to equal, or in worth or Title. Contain yourself, my Lord, Ixion aiming To embrace Iuno, bosomed but a cloud, And begat centaurs: 'tis an useful moral, Ambition hatched in clouds of mere opinion, Proves but in birth a prodigy. I thank 'ee; Yet, with your Licence, I should seem uncharitable To gentler Fate, if relishing the dainties Of a soul's settled peace, I were so feeble Not to digest it. He deserves small trust Who is not privy Counsellor to himself. Brave me? Your Excellence mistakes his temper, For Ithocles in fashion of his mind Is beautiful, soft, gentle, the clear mirror Of absolute perfection. Was't your modesty Termed any of the Prince his servant's Spaniel? Your Nurse sure taught you other language. Language. A gallant Man at arms is here: a Doctor In feats of Chivalry; blunt, and rough spoken, Vouchsafing not the fustian of civility, Which rash spirits style good manners. Manners. No more (Illustrious Sir) 'tis matchless Ithocles. You might have understood who I am. Yes, I did— else— but the presence calmed th' affront; Y'are cousin to the Princess. To the King too; A certain Instrument that lent supportance To your colossic greatness:— to that King too You might have added. There is more divinity In beauty then in Majesty. O fie, fie This odd youth's pride turns heretic in loyalty. Sirrah! low Mushrooms never rival Cedars. Come back: what pitiful dull thing am I So to be tamely scolded at? Come back; Let him come back and echo once again That scornful sound of Mushroom; painted colts, Like Herald's coats, guilt o'er with Crowns and Sceptres, May bait a muzzled Lion. cousin, cousin, Thy tongue is not thy friend. In point of honour Discretion knows no bounds. Amelus told me 'Twas all about a little Ring. A Ring The Princess threw away, and I took up: Admit she threw't to me; what arm of brass Can snatch it hence? No, could a' grind the hoop To powder, a' might sooner reach my heart Then steal and wear one dust on't.— Orgilus, I am extremely wronged.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T9 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The Princesse threw it t'ee: True, and she said — well I remember what. Her Cozen Prince would beg it. Yes, and parted In anger at your taking on't. Penthea! Oh thou hast pleaded with a powerfull language. I want a fee to gratifie thy myrit. But I will doe— What is't you say? In anger, In anger let him part; for could his breath, Like whirlewinds, tosse such serile slaues as licke The dust his footsteps print, into a vapour, It durst not stirre a aire of mine; It should not, I'de rend it vp by th' roots first. To be any thing Calantha smiles on, is to be a blessing More sacred than a petty-Prince of Argos Can wish to equall, or in worth or Title. Containe your selfe, my Lord, Ixion ayming To embrace Iuno, bosom'd but a cloud, And begat Centaures: 'tis an vsefull morall, Ambition hatch'd in clouds of meere opinion, Proues but in birth a prodigie. I thanke 'ee; Yet, with your Licence, I should seeme vncharitable To gentler Fate, if rellishing the dainties Of a soules setled peace, I were so feeble Not to digest it. He deserues small trust Who is not priuy Counsellor to himselfe. Braue me? Your Excellence mistakes his temper For Ithocles in fashion of his mind Is beautifull, soft, gentle, the cleare mirror Of absolute perfection. Was't your modesty Term'd any of the Prince his seruants Spaniell? Your Nurse sure taught you other language. Language. A gallant Man at armes is here: a Doctor In feats of Chiualry; blunt, and rough spoken, Vouchsafing not the fustian of ciuility, Which rash spirits stile good manners. Manners. No more (Illustrious Sir) 'tis marchlesse Ithocles. You might haue vnderstood who I am. Yes, I did — else — but the presence calm'd th' affront; Y' are Cozen to the Princesse. To the King too; A certaine Instrument that lent supportance To your Collossicke greatnesse: — to that King too You might haue added. There is more diuinity In beauty then in Maiesty. O fie, fie This odde youths pride turnes hereticke in loyalty. Sirrah! low Mushroms neuer riuall Cedrs. Come backe: what pittifull dull thing am I So to be tamely scoulded at? Come backe; Let him come backe and eccho once againe That scornefull sound of Mushrome; painted colts, Like Heralds coats, guilt o're with Crownes and Scepters, May bait a musled Lion. Cozen, Coxen, Thy tongue is not thy friend. In point of honour Discretion knowes no bounds. Amelus told me 'Twas all about a little Ring. A Ring The Princesse threw away, and I tooke vp: Admit she threw't to me; what arme of brasse Can snatch it hence? No, could a' grind the hoope To powder, a' might sooner reach my heart Then steale and weare one dust on't. — Orgilus, I am extreamely wrong'd.