The Noble Spanish Soldier (The Noble Soldier, or A Contract Broken Justly Revenged) · chunk 9 of 27
Dekker, Thomas · published 1634 · first performed or written 1622 (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Do you not know me? I scarce know myself. I ha' been at Tennis, Madam, with the King: I gave him 15 and all his faults, which is much, and now I come to toss a ball with you. I am bandied too much up and down already. Yes, she has been struck under line, master soldier. I conceit you, dare you trust yourself alone with me? I have been laden with such weights of wrong, That heavier cannot press me: hence Cornego. Hence Cornego? stay Captain: when man and woman are put together, some egg of villainy is sure to be sat upon. What would you say to him should kill this man That hath you so dishonoured? Oh I wooed crown him With thanks, praise, gold, and tender of my life. Shall I be that German Fencer, and beat all the knocking boys before me? shall I kill him? There's music in the tongue that dares but speak it. That Fiddle then is in me, this arm can do't, by poniard, poison, or pistol: but shall I do't indeed? One step to humane bliss is sweet revenge. Stay; what made you love him? His most goodly shape, Married to royal virtues of his mind. Yet now you would divorce all that goodness; and why? For a little lechery of revenge? it's a lie: the burr that sticks in your throat is a throne; let him out of his mess of kingdoms; cut out but one, and lay Sicilia, Arragon, Naples, or any else upon your trencher, and you'll praise Bastard for the sweetest wine in the world, and call for another quart of it: 'Tis not because the man has left you, but because you are not the woman you would be, that mads you: A shee-cuckold is an untameable monster. Monster of men thou art; thou bloody villain, Traitor to him who never injured thee; Dost thou profess Arms? and art bound in honour To stand up like a brazen wall to guard Thy King and Country, and wouldst thou ruin both? You spur me on to't. True; Worse am I then the horrid'st fiend in hell To murder him whom once I loved too well: For though I could run mad, and tear my hair, And kill that godless man that turned me vile, Though I am cheated by a perjurous Prince Who has done wickedness, at which even heaven Shakes when the Sun beholds it, O yet I'd rather Ten thousand poisoned poniards stabbed my breast Than one should touch his: bloody slave! I'll play myself the Hangman, and will Butcher thee If thou but prick'st his finger. sayst thou me so! give me thy goll, thou art a noble girl; I did play the devil's part, and roar in a feigned voice, but I am the honestest Devil that ever spit fire: I would not drink that infernal draught of a king's blood, to go reeling to damnation, for the weight of the world in Diamonds.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Doe you not know me? I scarce know my selfe. I ha beene at Tennis, Madam, with the King: I gave him 15 and all his faults, which is much, and now I come to toffe a ball with you. I am bandved too much up and downe aready. Yes, shee has beene strucke under line, master Sould. I conceit you, dare you trust your selfe alone with me? I have beene laden with such weights of wrong, That heavier cannot presse me: hence Cornego. Hence Cornego? stay Captaine: when man and woman are put together, some egge of villany is sure to be sate upon. What would you say to him should kill this man That hath you so dishonoured? Oh I woo'd crowne him With thanks, praise, gold, and tender of my life. Shall I bee that Germane Fencer, and beat all the knocking boyes before me? shall I kill him? There's musick in the tongue that dares but speak it. That Fiddle then is in me, this arme can doo't, by ponyard, poyson, or pistoll: but shall I doo't indeed? One step to humane blisse is sweet revenge. Stay; what made you love him? His most goodly shape, Marryed to royall vertues of his mind. Yet now you would divorce all that goodnesse; and why? For a little lechery of revenge? it's a lye: the Burre that stickes in your throat is a throane; let him out of his messe of kingdomes; cut out but one, and lay Sicilia, Arragon, Naples, or any else upon your trencher, and you'll prayse Bastard for the sweetest wine in the world, and call for another quart of it: 'Tis not because the man has left you, but because you are ot the woman you would be, that mads you: A shee-cuckold is an untameable monster. Monster of men thou art; thou bloudy villaine, Traytor to him who never injur'd thee; Dost thou professe Armes? and art bound in honour To stand up like a brazen wall to guard Thy King and Country, and wood'st thou ruine both? You spurre me on too't. True; Worse am I then the horrid'st fiend in hell To murder him whom once I lou'd too well: For tho I could runne mad, and teare my haire, And kill that godlesse man that turn'd me vile, Though I am cheated by a perjurous Prince Who has done wickednesse, at which even heauen Shakes when the Sunne beholds it, O yet I'de rather Ten thousand poyton'd ponyards stab'd my brest Than one should touch his: bloudy slave! I'le play My selfe the Hnginan, and will Butcher thee If thou but prickt his finger. aist thou ne so! give me thy goll, thou art a noble girle; I did play the Devils part, and roare in a feigned voye, but I am the honestest Devill that ever spet fire: I would not drine that infrnall draught of a Kings blood, to goe recling to damnation, for the weight of the world in Diamonds.