The Noble Spanish Soldier (The Noble Soldier, or A Contract Broken Justly Revenged) · chunk 27 of 27
Dekker, Thomas · published 1634 · first performed or written 1622 (Annals) tragedy · Unknown T15 Friars and holy orders in plot typicality 0.85 · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T15: friar, lord, holy, friars, robin, peggy, lacie, angelo, love, nun.
Onaelia! oh she's drowned in tears! Onaelia, Let me not die unpardoned at thy hands. Here comes a better Surgeon. Hail my good Son, I come to be thy ghostly Father. Ha? my child 'tis my Sebastian, or some spirit Sent in his shape to fright me. 'Tis no gobbling, Sir, feel; your own flesh and blood, and much younger than you tho he be bald, and calls you son; had I been as ready to ha' cut his sheep's throat, as you were to send him to the shambles, he had bleated no more; there's less chalk upon you score of sins by these round o'es. Oh my dull soul look up, thou art somewhat lighter, Noble Medina, see Sebastian lives: Onaelia cease to weep, Sebastian livea; Fetch me my Crown: my sweetest pretty friar, Can my hands do't, I le raise thee one step higher thoust been in heaven's house all this while sweet boy. I had but course cheer. Thou couldst ne'er fare better: Religious houses are those hives, where Bees Make honey for men's souls: I tell thee, Boy, A friary is a Cube, which strongly stands, Fashioned by men, supported by heavens hands: Orders of holy Priesthood are as high I'th' eyes of Angels, as a king's dignity: Both these unto a Crown give the hill weight, And both are thine: you that our Contract know, See how I seal it with this Marriage; My blessing and Spain's kingdom both be thine. Long live Sebastian. Doff that Friars course grey; And since he's crowned a King, clothe him like one. Oh no: those are right sovereign Ornaments; Had I been clothed so, I had never filled My work is almost finished: where's my Queen? Here piecemeal torn by Furies. Onaelia! Your hand Paulina too, Onaelia yours: This hand (the pledge of my twice broken faith) By you usurped is her Inheritance; My love is turned, see as my fate is turned, Thus they today laugh, yesterday which mourned: I pardon thee my death; let her be sent Back into Florence with a trebled dowry; Death comes: oh now I see what late I feared! A Contract broke, though pieced up ne'er so well, Heaven sees, earth suffers, but it ends in hell. Oh I could die with him. Since the bright sphere I moved in falls, alas what make I here? The hammers of black mischief now cease beating, Yet some Irons still are heating: you, Sir Bridegroom, (Set all this while up as a mark to shoot at) We here discharge you of your bedfellow, She loves no barbers washing. My Balls are saved then. Be it your charge, so please you reverend Sir, To see the late Queen safely sent to Florence: My Niece Onaelia, and that trusty Soldier, We do appoint to guard the Infant King: Other distractions, Time must reconcile; The State is poisoned like a Crocodile.
seed 43: T19 · seed 44: T20 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Onaelia! oh shee's drown'd in teares! Onaelia, Let me not dye unpardoned at thy hands. Here comes a better Surgeon. Haile my good Sonne, I come to be thy ghostly Father. Ha? my child tis my Sebastian, or some spirit Sent in his shape to fright me. 'Tis no gobling, i, feele; your owne flesh and blood, and much younger than you tho he be bald, and cals you son; had I bin as ready to ha cut his sheeps throat, as you were to send him to the shambles, he had bleated no more; there's lesse chalke upon you score of sinnes by these round o'es. Oh my dul soule looke up, thou art somwhat lighter, Noble Medina, see Sebstian lives: Onaelia cease to weepe, Sebastian livea; Fetch me my Crowne: my sweetest pretty Fryer, Can my hands do't, I le raise thee one step higher Th'ast beene in heavens house all this while sweet boy. I had but course cheere. Thou couldst ne're fare better: Religious houses are those hyves, where Bees Make honey for mens soules: I tell thee, Boy, A Fryery is a Cube, which stiongly stands, Fashioned by men, supported by heavens hands: Orders of holy Priest-hood are as high I'th eyes of Angels, as a Kings dignity: Both these unto a Crowne give the hill weight, And both are thine: you that our Contract know, See how I seale it with this Marriage; My blessing and Spaines kingdome both be thine. Long live Sebastian. Doff that Fryers course gray; And since hee's crownd a King, clothe him like one. Oh no: those are right overaigne Ornaments; Had I beene cloth'd so, I had never My worke is almost finish'd: where's my Queene? Here peece-meale torne by Furies. Onaelia! Your hand Paulina too, Onaelia yours: This hand (the pledge of my twice broken faith) By you usurp'd is her Inheritance; My love is turn'd, see as my fate is turn'd, Thus they to day laugh, yesterday which mourn'd: I pardon thee my death; let her be Backe into Florence with a trebled dowry; Death comes: oh now I see what late I fear'd! A Contrat broke, tho piec'd up nere so well, Heaven sees, earth suffes, but it ends in hell. Oh I could dye with him. Since the bright spheare I mov'd in falls, alas what make I here? The hammers of black mischiefe now cease beating, Yet some Irons still are heating: you, Sir Bridegroome, (Set all this while up as a marke to shoot at) We here discharge you of your bed-fellow, Shee loves no Barbars washing. My Balls are sav'd then. Be it your charge, so please you reverend Sir, To see the late Queene safely sent to Florence: My Neece Oaelia, and that trusty Souldier, We doe appoint to guarp the Infant King: Other distractions, Time must reconcile; The State is poyson'd like a Crocodile.