Shirley, James · published 1635 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, May 4] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.84 · 510 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
What then could the Duke find, to give him any Encouragement you would be guilty of An act, so fatal unto honour, what When you were least yourself? (as we are all Frail compositions) did appear so wicked In you, he should conceive a hope, and flatter Himself with possibility, to corrupt Your Soul to a deed so monstrous? To what? Though all the teeming glories of His Dukedom, Nay Florence State offered it self a bribe▪ And tempted the betraying of your name To infamy, yet to imagine, you Would turn officious pander to his lust, And interpose the mercenary bawd. To Court your Sister to his sinful coupling: 'tis horrid, affrights nature, I grow stiff With the imagination. Hah! Yet this was his command I should impose. Lorenzo, I do want breath, my voice is ravished from me, I am not what I was, or if I be, Sciarrha thou hast talked too, all this while Look heedfully about me, and thou mayst Discover through some cranny of my flesh, A fire within, my soul is but one flame, Extended to all parts of this frail building, I shall to ashes, I begin to shrink, Is not already my complexion altered, Does not my face look parched, and my skin gather Into a heap? my breath is hot enough To thaw the Alps. Your fancy would Transport you. 'tis my rage, but let it cool, And then we'll talk o'something, something sir, Shall be to purpose. Now the flame is mounted, My Lord I have given proof, although he be My Duke, and Kinsman, I abhorred his vices, howe'er the world without examination, Shoot their malicious noise, and stain my actions: 'tis policy in Princes, to create A Favourite, who must bear all the guilt Of things ill managed in the State, if any Design be happy, 'tis the PRINCE's own. Heaven knows, how I have counseled this young man, By virtue to prevent his fate, and govern With modesty: O the religious days Of Commonwealths! We have outlived that blessing. But I have thought a cure for this great State Impostume. What? To lance it, is't, not ripe? let's draw cuts, whether your hand or mine Shall do an act for Florence liberty, And send this Tyrant to another world. How, I draw cuts? Coy it not thus Lorenzo, But answer, by thy name and birth, you are His Kinsman; we all know it, that you dwell In's bosom, great in favour, as in blood, We know that too, and let me tell you more: We know you but disguise your heart, and wish Florence would change her title. How is this? We know you have firm correspondence with The banished men, whose desperate fortunes wait Your call to tumult, in our streets, all this, Not to feed your ambition with a Dukedom, By the remove of Alexander, but To serve your Country, and create their peace, Who groan under the Tyranny of a proud, Lascivious Monarch, is't not true Lorenzo? My phrase is blunt my Lord.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
What then could the Duke finde, to give him any Encouragement you would be guilty of An act, so fatall unto honour, what When you were least your selfe? (as we are all Fraile compositions) did appeare so wicked In you, he should conceave a hope, and flatter Himselfe with possibility, to corrupt Your Soule to a deed so monstrous? To what? Though all the eeming glories of His Dukedome, Nay Florence State offrd it a ribe▪ And tempted the betraying of your name To infamy, yet to imagine, you Would turne officious pander to his lust, And interpose the mercenary bewde To Court your Sister to his sinfull coupling▪ Tis horrid, affrights nature, I grow stiffe With the imagination. Hah! Yet this was his command I should impose▪ Lorenzo, I doe want breath, my voice is ravisht from me, I am not what I was, or if I be, Sciarrha thou hast talkt too, all this while Looke heedfully about me, and thou maist Discover through some cranny of my flesh, A fire within, my soule is but one flame, Extended to all parts of this fraile building, I shall to ashes, I begin to shrinke▪ Is not already my complexion alte'd, Does not my face looke parchd, and my skin gather Into a heape? my breath is hot enough To thaw the Alpes. Your fancy would Transport you. Tis my rage, but let it coole, And then wee'le talke o'something, something sir, Shall be to purpose. Now the flame is mounted, My Lord I have given proofe, although he be My Duke, and Kinsman, I abhorte his vices, How e're the world without examination, Shoote their malicious noise, and staine my actions: Tis policy in Princes, to create A Favorite, who must beare all the guilt Of things ill mannag'd in the State, if any Designe be happy, tis the Princes owne. Heaven knowes, how I have counsell'd this young man, By vertue to prevent his fate, and governe With modesty: O the religious dayes Of Common-wealths! We have out-liv'd that blessing. But I have thought a cure for this great State Impostume. What? To lance it, is't, not ripe? Lets draw cuts, whether your hand or mine Shall doe an act for Florence liberty, And send this Tyrant to another world. How, I draw cuts? Coy it not thus Lorenzo, But answere, by thy name and birth, you are His Kinsman; we all kuow it, that you dwell In's bosome, great in favour, as in blood, We know that too, and let me tell you more: We know you but disguise your heart, and wish Florence would change her title. How is this? We know you have firme correspondence with The banisht men, whose desperate fortunes waite Your call to tumult, in our streetes, all this, Not to feed your ambition with a Dukedome, By the remove of Alexander, but To serve your Countrey, and create their peace, Who groane under the Tyranny of a proud, Lascivious Monarch, is't not true Lorenz? My phrase is blunt my Lord.