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 0.83 · 529 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Signior Florio desires to speak with you. This must retire again into my Closet: admit him. Welcome, how does Sciarrha? He commends His service to your Lordship, and hath sent— His Sister? Much ado he had to effect it: He hopes his Grace will quickly sign his pardon. It shall be done. I have a suit my Lord. To me? My Sister would entreat your Honour She may be admitted privately, and that I may have privilege to prepare her chamber: She does retain some modesty, and would not! Trust every servant with her shame: their eyes Are apt to instruct their tongues. I won't see her myself, command what you desire. Y'are gracious. I'll give directions instantly: poor Lady, This is the Duke's hot blood, but Heaven convert him, Follow me good Florio. I attend my Lord. Things shall be carried honourably. We are all bound to you. This is a sad employment. The last we're shall do my Lady. So, now you may return, it will become Your modest duties, not to inquire the reason Of this strange service, nor to publish what Y'ave been commanded; let me look upon My sister now, still she retains her beauty, Death has been kind to leave her all this sweetness. Thus in a morning have I oft saluted My sister in her chamber, sat upon Her bed, and talked of many harmless passages, But now 'tis night, and a long night with her, I ne'er shall see these Curtains drawn again Until we meet in heaven. The Duke already. May I believe? Trust me my Lord hereafter. Call me no more thy Lord, but thy companion I will not wear that honour in my title, Shall not be thine. who's that? Her brother Florio. She is a-bed. The readier for your pastime. She means no make a night on't. This shall declare thee to posterity The best of Sisters— what of that? and is not A brother's life more precious than a trifle? I prithee do not sigh: how many Ladies Would be ambitious of thy place tonight? And thank his Highness? yes, and Virgins too. He pleads for me. He will deserve some office 'bout your person. With what words shall I express my joy? I leave you sir to action, Florio Is soon dismissed. he's come: goodnight— Florio? Your Slave. My friend! thou shalt be near our bosom. Pleasures crown your expectation. All perfect, till this minute, I could never Boast I was happy: all this world has not A blessing to exchange, this world? 'tis Heaven; And thus I take possession of my Saint: Asleep already? 'twere great pity to Disturb her dream, yet if her soul be not tired with the Body's weight, it must convey Into her slumbers I wait here, and thus Seal my devotion— what winter dwells Upon this lip? 'twas no warm kiss, I'll try Again— the snow is not so cold, I have Drunk ice, and feel a numbness spread through My blood at once— ha? let me examine A little better; Amidea, she is dead, she is dead! What horror doth invade me? help Lorenzo; Murder, where is Lorenzo?
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)
Signior Florio desires to speake with you. This must retire agen into my Closet: admit him. Welcome, how does Sciarrha? He commends His service to your Lordship, and hath sent— His Sister? Much adoe he had to effect it: He hopes his Grace will quickly signe his pardon. It shall be done. I have a suite my Lord. To me? My Sister would intreate your Honour She may be admitted privately▪ and that I may have priviledge to prepare her chamber: She does retaine some modestie, and wo'd not▪ Trust every servant with her shame: their eies Are apt to instruct their tongues. I wonot see her my selfe, command what you desire. Y'are gracious. Ile give directions instantly: poore Ladie, This is the Dukes hot blood, but Heaven convert him, Follow me good Florio. I attend my Lord. Things shall be carried honourably. We are all bound to you. This is a sad imploiment. The last wee're shall doe my Ladie. So, now you may returne, it will become Your modest duties, not to enquire the reason Of this strange service, nor to publish what Y'ave bin commanded; let mee looke upon My sister now, still she retaines her beautie, Death has beene kinde to leave her all this sweetnesse. Thus in a morning have I oft saluted My sister in her chamber, sate upon Her bed, and talkt of many harmelesse passages, But now tis night, and a long night with her, Ineere shall see these Curtaines drawne agen Untill wee meet in heaven. The Duke already. May I beleeve? Trust me my Lord . Call mee no more thy Lord, but thy companion I will not weare that honor in my title, Shall not be thine. Whoe's that? Her brother Florio. She is a bed. The readier for your pastime. She meanes no make a night on't. This shall declare thee to posteritie The best of Sisters—what of that? and is not A brothers life more precious then a trifle? I prithee doe not sigh: how many Ladies Would be ambitious of thy place to night? And thanke his Highnesse? yes, and Virgins too. He pleades for me. He will deserve some office 'bout your person. With what words shall I expresse my joy? I leave you sir to action, Florio Is soone dismist. Hee's come: good-night— Florio? Your Slave. My friend! thou shal be neere our bosome. Pleasures crowne your expectation. All perfect, till this minute, I could never Boast I was happie: all this world has not A blessing to exchange, this world? tis Heaven; And thus I take possession of my Saint: Asleepe already? 'twere great pitty to Disturbe her dreame, yet if her soule be not Tir'd with the bodies weight, it must convey Into her slumbers I waite here, and thus Seale my devotion—what winter dwels Upon this lip? twa's no warme kisse, Ile try Agen—the snow is not so cold, I have Drunke ice, and feele a numbnesse spred through My blood at once—ha? let me examine A little better; Amidea, she is dead, shee is dead! What horror doth inuade me? helpe Lorenzo; Murder, where is Lorenzo?