Heywood, Thomas · published 1634 · first performed or written 1633 [c.1625-1634] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Madam on me? there is no change of Fortune Can puff me or deject me; I am all one In rich abundance and penurious want: So little do my miseries vex me, Or the fair Princess wrong, that I will end My passions in a Song. It seems the Duke is Hunting in the Forest, Here let us rest ourselves, and listen to Their Tones, for nothing but mishap here lies; Sing thou fair Child, I'll keep tune with my eyes. This way the voice was, let us leave the Chase. Behold my Lord two sad dejected Creatures Thrown on the humble verdure. Here's beauty mixed with tears, that poverty Was never bred in Cottage: I'll farther question Their state and fortune. we're discovered, Daughter arise. What are you gentle Creatures? Nay answer not in tears. If you by casual loss, or by the hand Of Fortune have been crushed beneath these sorrows, He demands your grief That hath as much will as ability To succour you, and for your own fair sake; Nay beauteous Damsel, you need not question that. If by the front we may believe the heart, Or by the outside judge the inward virtue: You fair Sir, have even in yourself alone All that this world can promise; for I ne'er Beheld one so complete; and were I sure Although you would not pity, yet at least You would not mock our misery: I would relate A Tale should make you weep. Sweet if the Prologue To thy sad passion move thus: what will the Scene And tragic act itself do? Is that Gentlewoman Your Mother sweet? My wretched Mother Sir. Pray of what Province? Milleine. What fortune there? My Father was a Noble Gentleman, Ranked with the best in Birth, and which did add To all his other virtues, a bold Soldier; But when he died— Nay, proceed beauteous Lady, How was your Father styled? To tell you that, Were to exclaim upon my Prince, my Country And their Ingratitude: For he being dead, With him our fortunes and our hopes both failed; My Mother loath to live ignobly base, Where once she flourished, having spent her means Not loosely nor in riot, but in the honour Of her dead Husband: left th'ingrateful Land, Rather to spend her years in poverty, 'mongst those that never knew her height of Fortune, Then with her thankless Friends and Countrymen, Fled here to perish. More than her Charming beauty Her passion moves me: where inhabit you? Here, every where. Beneath these Trees? We have No other roof then what kind Heaven lends. Gentle Creature, Had you not told me that your Birth was Noble, I should have found it in your face and gesture. Mounsieur. My Lord. Go wind thy Horn abroad, and call to us Some of our train: we pity these two Ladies, And we will raise their hope: Cheer you old Madam, You shall receive some bounty from a Prince. Who keeps the Lodge below?
seed 43: T13 · seed 44: T16 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Madam on me? there is no change of Fortune Can puffe me or deiect me; I am all one In rich abundance and penurious want: So little doe my miseries vexe me, Or the faire Princesse wrong, that I will end My passions in a Song. It seemes the Duke is Hunting in the Forrest, Here let vs rest our selues, and listen to Their Tones, for nothing but mishap here lies; Sing thou faire Childe, I'le keepe tune with my eyes. This way the voyce was, let vs leaue the Chace. Behold my Lord two sad deiected Creatures Throwne on the humble verdure. Here's beauty mixt with teares, that pouerty Was neuer bred in Cottage: I'le farther question Their state and fortune. Wee're discouered, Daughter arise. What are you gentle Creatures? Nay answere not in teares. If you by casuall losse, or by the hand Of Fortune haue beene crusht beneath these sorrowes, He demands your griefe That hath as much will as ability To succour you, and for your owne faire sake; Nay beautious Damsell, you neede not question that. If by the front we may beleeue the heart, Or by the out-side iudge the inward vertue: You faire Sir, haue euen in your selfe alone All that this world can promise; for I ne're Beheld one so compleate; and were I sure Although you would not pitty, yet at least You would not mocke our misery: I would relate A Tale should make you weepe. Sweete if the Prologue To thy sad passion mooue thus: what will the Sceane And tragicke act it selfe doe? Is thatt Gentlewoman Your Mother sweete? My wretched Mother Sir. Pray of what Prouince? Milleine. What fortune there? My Father was a Noble Gentleman, Rank't with the best in Birth, and which did adde To all his other vertues, a bold Souldier; But when he dy'de— Nay, proceede beauteous Lady, How was your Father stil'd? To tell you that, Were to exclaime vpon my Prince, my Countrey And their Ingratitude: For he being dead, With him our fortunes and our hopes both fail'd; My Mother loath to liue ignobly base, Where once she flourisht, hauing spent her meanes Not loosely nor in riot, but in the honour Of her dead Husband: left th'ingratefull Land, Rather to spend her yeares in pouerty, Mongst those that neuer knew her height of Fortune, Then with her thankelesse Friends and Countrey-men, Fled here to perish. More then her Charming beauty Her passion moues me: where inhabit you? Here, euery where. Beneath these Trees? We haue No other roofe then what kinde Heauen lends. Gentle Creature, Had you not told me that your Birth was Noble, I should haue found it in your face and gesture. Mounsieur. My Lord. Goe winde thy Horne abroad, and call to vs Some of our traine: we pitty these two Ladies, And we will raise thier hope: Cheere you old Madam, You shall receiue some bounty from a Prince. Who keepes the Lodge below?