Marmion, Shackerley · published 1633 · first performed or written 1633 [1632-1633] (Annals) comedy · Prince Charles's Men (second) · before the Court unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Sulphur of Styx, Can you not see? Death where be your eyes? You'd have me wash them in the channel, would you? Yes very fain sir, if you durst attempt it. Heart, do you stem me? and he had a beak He might have split me: body of Iupiter, He ran me athwart the midships. Spirit of fury, I think that he has sprung a plank in me. Then you may lie by the Lee, and mend it. Horror of man, lay a Captain aboard. A man of war, and not cry amain to him? How, you a Captain? I rather believe That you are one of those that upon service, Were seen to carry Tomkins in your Guns, And made a shift to discharge a league of: Was it not so? that might take up your bullet, And shoot again, and do no hurt with it. You a man of war? 'Slife do you question it? I'll tell thee Slave to thy astonishment, I have been styled, the rock of Pirates, I; I have ploughed up the Sea, till Bosphorus Has worshipped me; I have shot all the Gulfs, And seen the navel of the world, you stinkard. How slave, and stinkard, since you are so stout, I will see your Commission ere I part. Strength of my brains, see my Commission? I'll blow thee up like a deck. Son of Neptune, Off or i'll fire thee. I am grappled with you, And will hang by your side, till you be calmer, And be so, or I'll lay my trident on you. Come to your tacklings. 'tis a bold active boy, I see there's nothing to be got but knocks by him. Give me thy hand old Rover, hoist up thy top Sail, And go in peace. Sir this will not appease me, I must have satisfaction. Reach me thy fist, And be reconciled: what thou dost not know me: Though I am valiant, yet 'tis out of the road Of my humour, to disgrace any man. This will not satisfy me. I say again, Give me thy wrist. Know me, and my lodging; I'll give thee a Supper: there's a good plump wench, My Hostess, a waterman's widow at the sign Of the red lettuce in Southwark, shall bid thee welcome. But I must have you leave your swearing first, And be temperate. Hear me honest Trojan. As I am virtuous, as I love my friends, That I may swear. No, not as you are virtuous. Why then on my word, i'll give thee a supper. What? I will not offend thee my good drumstick; I'll conform myself, come to me at night, And i'll be as good as my word, old Bracer. But if I come, and lose my labour, what follows? Then Teucer, in pure zeal and verity, I'll belabour you the next time I meet you. What Scuffler, dost thou think i'll fail my friends? No Hector I scorn it. I'll pawn my cloak first. Farewell Actorides.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T26 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Sulphur of Styx, Can you not ſee? Death where be your eyes? You'd haue me waſh them in the chanell, would you? Yes very faine ſir, if you durſt attempt it. Heart, doe you ſtemme mee? and he had a beake He might have ſplit mee: body of Iupiter, He ranne mee athwart the midſhips. Spirit of fury, I thinke that he has ſprung a planke in mee. Then you may lye by the Lee, and mend it. Horrour of man, lay a Captaine aboard. A man of warre, and not cry amaine to him? How, you a Captaine? I rather beleeue That you are one of thoſe that vpon ſervice, Were ſeene to carry Tomkins in your Gunnes, And made a ſhift to diſcharge a league of: Was it not ſo? that might take vp your bullet, And ſhoote againe, and doe no hurt with it. You a man of warre? S'life doe you queſtion it? Ile tell thee Slaue to thy aſtoniſhment, I haue bene ſtil'd, the rocke of Pirats, I; I haue plowd vp the Sea, till Boſphorus Has worſhipt me; I haue ſhot all the Gulphes, And ſeene the navell of the world, you ſtinkard. How ſlaue, and ſtinkard, ſince you are ſo ſtout, I will ſee your Commiſſion ere I part. Strength of my braines, ſee my Commiſſion? Ile blow thee up like a deck. Sonne of Neptune, Off or ile fire thee. I am grapled with you, And will hang by your ſide, till you be calmer, And be ſo, or Ile lay my trident on you. Come to your tacklings. Tis a bold actiue boy, I ſee there's nothing to be got but knocks by him. Giue me thy hand old Rover, hoiſe up thy top Sayle, And goe in peace. Sir this will not appeaſe me, I muſt haue ſatisfaction. Reach me thy fiſt, And be reconcil'd: what thou doſt not know me: Though I am valiant, yet tis out of the road Of my humour, to diſgrace any man. This will not ſatisfie me. I ſay againe, Giue me thy wriſt. Know me, and my lodging; Ile giue thee a Supper: there's a good plumpe wench, My Hoſteſſe, a watermans widdow at the ſigne Of the red Lettice in Southwarke, ſhall bid thee welcome. But I muſt haue you leaue your ſwearing firſt, And be temperate. Heare me honeſt Trojan. As I am vertuous, as I loue my friends, That I may ſweare. No, not as you are vertuous. Why then on my word, ile giue thee a ſupper. What? I will not offend thee my good drumſticke; Ile conforme my ſelfe, come to me at night, And ile be as good as my word, old Bracer. But if I come, and looſe my labour, what followes? Then Teucer, in pure zeale and verity, Ile belabour you the next time I meet you. What Scufler, doſt thou thinke ile faile my friends? No Hector I ſcorne it. Ile pawne my cloake firſt. Farewell Actorides.