The Noble Spanish Soldier (The Noble Soldier, or A Contract Broken Justly Revenged) · chunk 19 of 27
Dekker, Thomas · published 1634 · first performed or written 1622 (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
Oh but your stick wants resin to make the strings sound clearly: no, this double Virginal, being cunningly touched, another manner of Jack leaps up then is now in mine eye: Sol, Re, me, fa, mi, I have it now, Solus Rex me facit miseram: Alas poor Lady, tell her no Pothecary in Spain has any of that Assafoetida she writes for. Assafoetida? what's that? A thing to be taken in a glister-pipe. Why what ails my Lady? What ails she? why when she cries out, Solus Rex me facit miseram, she says in the Hypocronical language, that she is so miserably tormented with the wind-colic that it racks her very soul. I said somewhat cut her soul in pieces. But go to her, and say the Oven is heating. And what shall be baked in t? Carpe pies: and beside, tell her the hole in her Coat shall be mended: and tell her if the Dial of good days go true, why then bounce buckram. The Devil lies sick of the Mulligrubs. Or the coney is dubbed, and three sheepskins With the wrong side outward Shall make the Fox a Nightcap. So the Goose talks French to the Buzzard. But, Sir, if evil days justle our prognostication to the wall, then say there's a fire in a whoremaster's Codpiece. And a poisoned bag-pudding in Tom Thumbs belly. The first cut be thine: farewell. Is this all? Wilt not trust an Almanac? Nor a Coranta neither, though it were sealed with Butter, and yet I know where they both lie passing well. The King sends round about the Court to seek you. Away Otterhound. Dancing Bear, I'm gone. A private room, Is't done? hast drawn thy two-edged sword out yet? No, I was striking at the two Iron Bars that hinder your passage, and see Sir. What meanst thou? The edge abated, feel. No, no, I see it. As blunt as Ignorance. How? put up— So— I saw by chance hanging in Cardinal Alvarez Gallery a picture of hell. So, what of that? There lay upon burnt straw ten thousand brave fellows all stark naked, some leaning upon Crowns, some on Mitres, some on bags of gold: Glory in another Corner lay like a feather beaten in the rain; Beauty was turned into a watching Candle, that went out stinking: Ambition went upon a huge high pair of stilts, but horribly rotten; some in another nook were killing Kings, and some having their elbows shoved forward by Kings to murder others; I was (methought) half in hell myself whilst I stood to view this piece. Was this all? Was't not enough to see that a man is more healthful that eats dirty puddings, than he that feeds on a corrupted Conscience. Conscience! what's that? a Conjuring book ne'er opened Without the reader's danger: 'tis indeed A scarecrow set i'th' world to fright weak fools: Hast thou seen fields paved o'er with carcases, Now to be tender-footed, not to tread On a boy's mangled quarters, and a woman's!
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)
Oh but your sticke wants Rozen to make the strings sound clearely: no, this double Virginall, being cunningly touch'd, another manner of Iacke leaps up then is now in mine eye: Sol, Re, me, fa, mi, I have it now, Sols Rex me mseram: Alas poore Lady, tell her no Pothecary in Spaine has any of that Assafetida she writes for. Assafetida? what s that? A thing to be taken in a glister-pipe. Why what ayles my Lady? What ayles she? why when she cryes out, Solus Rex me facit mseram, she sayes in the Hypocronicall language, that she is so miserably tormented with the wind-Chollicke that it rackes her very soule. I said somewhat cut her soule in peeces. But goe to her, and say the Oven is heating. And what shall be bak d in t? Carpe pyes: and besides, tell her the hole in her Coat shall be mended: and tell her if the Dyall of good dayes goe true, why then bounce Buckrum. The Divell lyes sicke of the Mulligrubs. Or the Cony is dub d, and three sheepskins With the wrong side outward Shall make the Fox a Night-cap. So the Goose talkes French to the Buzzard. But, Sir, f evill dayes justle our prognostication to the wall, then say there's a fire in a Whore-masters Codpeece. And a poyson'd Bagge-pudding in Tom Thumbes belly. The first cut be thine: farewell. Is this all? Woo't not trust an Almanacke? Nor a Coranta neither, tho it were sal'd with Butter, and yet I know where they both lye passing well. The King sends round about the Court to seek you. Away Otterhound. Dancing Beare, I'me gone. A private roome, Is't done? hast drawne thy two-edg'd sword out yet? No, I was striking at the two Iron Barres that hinder your passage, and see Sir. What meanst thou? The edge abated, feele. No, no, I see it. As blunt as Ignorance. How? put up—So—how? I saw by chance hanging in Cardinall Alvarez Gallery a picture of hell. So, what of that? There lay upon burnt straw ten thousand brave fellowes all starke naked, some leaning upon Crownes, some on Miters, some on bags of gold: Glory in another Corner lay like a feather beaten in the raine; Beauty was turn'd into a watching Candle, that went out stinking: Ambition went upon a huge high paire of stilts, but horribly rotten; some in another nooke were killing Kings, and some having their elbowes shov'd forward by Kings to murther others; I was (me thought) halfe in hell my selfe whilst I stod to view this peece. Was this all? Was't not enough to see that a man is more healthfull that eats dirty puddings, than he that feeds on a corrupted Conscience. Conscience! what's that? a Conjuring booke ne're open'd Without the readers danger: 'tis indeed A scare-crow set 'th world to fright weake fooles: Hast thou seene fields pav'd o're with carkasses, Now to be tender-footed, not to tread On a boyes mangled quarters, and a womans!