The Noble Spanish Soldier (The Noble Soldier, or A Contract Broken Justly Revenged) · chunk 20 of 27
Dekker, Thomas · published 1634 · first performed or written 1622 (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T3 Sickness, physic and doctors · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Nay, Sir, I have searched the records of the Low-Countries, and find that by your pardon I need not care a pin for Goblins, and therefore I will do't Sir. I did but recoil because I was double charged. No more, here comes a Satire with sharp horns. Sir here's a Frenchman charged with some strange Which to your close ear only he'll deliver, (business Or else to none. A Frenchman? We Mounsire. Cannot he speak the Spanish? Si Signior, ur Poco:— Monsir Acontez in de Corner, me come for offer to your Bon grace mi trezhumbla service, by gar no Iohn fidleco shall put into your near braver Melody dan dis un petite pipe shall play upon to your great bon Grace. What is the tune you'll strike up, touch the string. Dis; me ha' run up and down mane Country, and learn many fine ting, and mush knavery, now more and all dis, me know you ha' jumbla de fine vench and fill her belly wid a garcon, her name is le Madame— Onalia. She by gar: Now Monsire, dis Madam send for me to help her Malady, being very nought of her corpses (her body) me know you no point love a dis vensh; but royal Monsire donne Moye ten thousand French Crowns she shall kick up her tail by gar, and beshide lie dead as dog in de shannell. Speak low. As de bagpipe when de wind is puff, Gar beigh. Thou namest ten thousand Crowns, I'll treble them Rid me but of this leprosy: thy name? Monsire Doctor Devile. Shall I a second wheel add to this mischief To set it faster going? If one break, Th'other may keep his motion. Eslelent fort boon. Baltazar, To give thy Sword an edge again, this Frenchman Shall whet them on, that if thy pistol fail, Or poniard, this can send the poison home. Brother Cain we'll shake hands. In de bowl of de bloody busher: 'tis very fine wholesome. And more to arm your resolution, I'll tune this Churchman so, that he shall chime In sounds harmonious, Merit to that man Whose hand has but a finger in that act. That music were worth hearing. Holy Father, You must give pardon to me in unlocking A Cave stuffed full with Serpents, which my State Threaten to poison, and it lies in you To break their bed with thunder of your voice. How Princely son? Suppose an universal Hot Pestilence beat her mortiferous wings O re all my kingdom, am not I bound in soul To empty all our academes of Doctors, And Aesculapian spirits to charm this plague? You are. Or had the Canon made a breach Into our rich Escurial, down to beat it About our ears, should I to stop this breach Spare even our richest Ornaments, nay, our Crown, Could it keep bullets off. No Sir, you should not.
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)
Nay, Sir, I have search'd the records of the Low-Counties, and find that by your pardon I need not care a pinne for Goblins, and therefore I will doo't Sir. I did but recoyle because I was double charg'd. No more, here comes a Satyre with sharpe hornes. Sir here's a Frenchman charg'd with some strange Which to your close eare onely hee'll deliver, (businesse Or else to none. A Frenchman? We Mounsire. Cannot he speake the Spanish? Si Signior, vr Poco:—Monsir Acontez in de Corner, me come for offer to your Bon grace mi trezhumbla service, by gar no Iohn fidleco shall put into your neare braver Melody dan dis vn ptite pipe shall play upon to your great bon Grace. What is the tune you'll strike up, touch the staing. Dis; me ha run up and downe mane Countrie, and learne many fine ting, and mush knavery, now more and all dis, me know you ha jumbla de fine vench and fill her belly wid a Garsoone, her name is le Madame— Onalia. She by gar: Now Monsire, dis Madam send for me to helpe her Malady, being very naught of her corpes (her body) me know you no point love a dis vensh; but royall Monsire donne Moye ten towsand French Croownes she shall kicke up her taile by gar, and beshide lye dead as dog in de shannell. Speake low. As de bagge-pipe when de winde is puff, Gar beigh. Thou nam'st ten thousand Crownes, I'le treble them Rid me but of this lprosie: thy name? Monsire Dotor Deuile. Shall a second wheele adde to this mischiefe To set it faster going? If one breake, Th'other may keepe his motion. Eslelent fort boone. Baltazar, To give thy Sword an edge againe, this French-man Shall whet the on, that if thy pistoll faile, Or ponyard, this can send the poyson home. Brother Cain wee'll shake hands. In de bowle of de bloody busher: tis very fine wholesome. And more to arme your resolution, I'le tune this Churchman so, that he shall chime In sounds harmonious, Merit to that man Whose hand has but a finger in that act. That musicke were worth hearing. Holy Father, You must give pardon to me in unlocking A Cave stut full with Serpents, which my State Threaten to poyson, and it lyes in you To breake their bed with thunder of your voyce. How Princely sonne? Suppose an univrsall Hot Pestilence beat her mortiferous wings O re all my kingdome, am not I bound in soule To empty all our Achademes of Doctors, And Aeculapian spirits to charme this plague? You are. Or had the Canon made a breach Into our rich Escuriall, downe to beat it About our eares, shoo'd I to stop this breach Spare even our richest Ornaments, nay, our Crowne, Could it keepe bullets off. No Sir, you should not.