Marmion, Shackerley · published 1633 · first performed or written 1633 [1632-1633] (Annals) comedy · Prince Charles's Men (second) · before the Court unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 510 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
believe't? She is a close Adulteress, Of most strange exercise, a Fricatrice Insatiable: and has she none but you, That she can find to bait with her allurements, To cover her lewd projects? This moved me, I'd not have meddled else. O do not wrong her, Good sir do not wrong her, it cannot be. You have been still kept ignorant, for my part, I never yet expected better from them I count them but as ordinary chances, Trivial, and drawn out from the lap of Fortune. Believe me sir, there is no day so holy, That ceases to betray a woman's falsehood, My medicine works, I shall be even with her. I sought at first to make her mad in jest, But now I'll make her mad in earnest: yet 'tis not good to be too credulous; a word sir. I must have better proofs than your bare word, To justify this accusation; Her virtue must not stumble at a straw. Sir 'tis not threats that can extort from me, More than I list to speak: I see you troubled, And therefore will not leave you in suspense; Know that I made myself experiment. For all let this confirm you: this she gave me Upon the premises. O I shall burst: Here is a sight to make the Sun run backward; Good sir forgive me, that I pressed you so, Consider't as your own case: were you he, That put your confidence, your happiness, All in a woman's love, and found her false? I must confess I think it would afflict me: I'll leave you sir, I have discharged my conscience. But of more ill, than she has goodness in her. How now what Planet struck? how do you sir? This 'tis to be in love: what alterations It breeds? it makes a man forget his friends. Come sir be merry, your project has took. She fell into her fit, soon as she read it, And tore the papers and talked idly, and showed The symptoms of the prettiest lunacy. What have you lost your speech? those folded arms, And frowns, express a sorrow, more than love. His eyes, though fixed upon their object, show The wandering sphere of his disturbed mind, Is whirled about in error. Pray look up sir. I am not dumb, I have a care within me, Speaks to my troubled soul. Why what's the matter? O hear it then, and witness it for ever. When ere thou seest a woman, in whose brow, Are writ the characters of honesty, And calls the gods to justify her truth, Swear she's a Siren, and a Crocodile. Conclude her false, it is enough she vows, And speaks thee fair, the winds wait on her lips, Straight to disperse her oaths. You do but jest sure There is not one of them, that is the same She would appear to be; they all are painted. They have a Fucus for their face, another For their behaviour, their words, and actions. Come come, these are but qualms of jealousy.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Beleev't? She is a cloſe Adultereſſe, Of moſt ſtrange exerciſe, a Fricatrice Inſatiable: and has ſhe none but you, That ſhe can find to bayt with her allurements, To cover her lewd projects? This moved me, I'd not have medled elſe. O doe not wrong her, Good ſir doe not wrong her, it cannot be. You have bin ſtill kept ignorant, for my part, I never yet expected better from them I count them but as ordinary chances, Triviall, and drawne out from the lap of Fortune. Beleeve me ſir, there is no day ſo holy, That ceaſes to betray a womans falſehood, My medicine workes, I ſhall be even with her. I ſought at firſt to make her mad in jeſt, But now Ile make her mad in earneſt: yet Tis not good to be too credulous; a word ſir. I muſt have better proofes then your bare word, To juſtify this accuſation; Her vertue muſt not ſtumble at a ſtraw. Sir tis not threats that can extort from me, More then I liſt to ſpeake: I ſee you troubled, And therefore will not leaue you in ſuſpenſe; Know that I made my ſelfe experiment. For all let this confirme you: this ſhe gaue me Vpon the premiſes. O I ſhall burſt: Here is a ſight to make the Sun run backeward; Good ſir forgiue me, that I preſt you ſo, Conſider't as your owne caſe: were you hee, That put your confidence, your happineſſe, All in a womans loue, and found her falſe? I muſt confeſſe I thinke it would afflict me: Ile leaue you ſir, I haue diſcharg'd my conſcience. But of more ill, then ſhe has goodneſſe in her. How now what Planet ſtrucke? how doe you ſir? This tis to be in loue: what alterations It breeds? it makes a man forget his friends. Come ſir be merry, your project has tooke. She fell into her fit, ſoone as ſhe read it, And tore the papers and talkt idly, and ſhew'd The ſymptomes of the prettieſt lunacie. What haue you loſt your ſpeech? thoſe folded armes, And rownes, expreſſe a ſorrow, more then loue. His eyes, though fixt upon their object, ſhew The wandring ſpheare of his diſturbed mind, Is whirld about in error. Pray looke up ſir. I am not dumbe, I haue a care within me, Speakes to my troubled ſoule. Why whats the matter? O heare it then, and witneſſe it for ever. When ere thou feeſt a woman, in whoſe brow, Are writ the characters of honeſty, And cals the gods to iuſtifie her truth, Sweare ſhee's a Syren, and a Crocodile. Conclude her falſe, it is enough ſhee vowes, And ſpeakes thee faire, the winds waite on her lips, Straight to diſperſe her oaths. You doe but jeſt ſure There is not one of them, that is the ſame She would appeare to be; they all are painted. They haue a Fucus for their face, an other For their behaviour, their words, and actions. Come come, theſe are but qualmes of jealouſie.