Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
How came your knavery by such experience? As fools do by news, somebody told me so, and I believe it. But in good earnest I had forgot to tell my Lord of the message he sent me in. Whither in the name of Mercury was that? To see how the Lady Donna Fiozza did. Oh! how does her beauteous Ladyship? Sick, terrible sick. Physick defend! prithee of what disease? Yesterday her Monkey had a fall off the side table, and ever since she has had a strange fit of an ague. How does her Lord? Faith not well neither, and therefore he begins to be most sparingly virtuous. The pox he does. On my fidelity you are the foul mouth'dst gallant that ever wore Cloves in's Gums: you say an Italian Count has the pox. Your neater word good Galateo? By this light you Courtiers be the dullest creatures living; you learn nothing but flattery and begging. You must know sir in a Nobleman 'tis abusive; no; in him the Sarpigo; in a Knight the Grincomes; in a Gentleman the Neopolitan scab; and in a Servingman or Artificer the plain Pox: Just as your saying goes, that Noblemen be never drunk, but take a surfeit; Scholars be ill at ease; and poor men only they are drunk, yet all's but one disease: There's an old rhyme for you: adieu Signior, I must to my Lord. Farewell hedge-pike. Did my Lord so far impart the business to yourself? He did, and does intend to use my help alone in effecting of his project. I prithee return him this answer, and be silent. Sweet villainy, thou art the thrivingst trade under heaven. Warm blood assist me! how has wonder seized The frozen passages that slowly guide My shivering spirits up to the seat of life! Murder the Duke! now innocence forbid, And let ourselves be as out loves, unstained. Tyrannous affection! can thy transforming power Enforce our passions thus beyond ourselves? Rob us of nature and the sense of man? Seize all our actions? force us to forget That we are children? and with love's finger blot Clean from our thoughts the piety we owe To them that gave us life? Carry us headlong To such a gulf of sin? where we must drown ourselves, our honour, and that secure content A guiltless conscience brings to innocence! Ah dear Lucilio! how are thy virtues dimmed In my best thoughts, that like a Crystal mirror Still held the shapes of thy deserving actions Unspottedly resembled! what spirit of night Has mixed itself with those untainted vows Thy never yet ambitious soul poured forth To attend our loves? Some Angel, dear Lucilio, Descend into thy fancy to persuade thee By all the bands Love, Duty, Nature, Heaven, Can bring to bind thee in a tender fear Of roughly breathing on the softest air That toucheth but his safety, to desist. From this unnatural act of parricide. Fatal experience speaks; and makes it good, They stand not firm that rise by steps of blood.
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)
How came your knavery by ſuch experience? As fooles doe by newes, ſome body told me ſo, and I beleeve it. But in good earneſt I had forgot to tell my Lord of the meſſage he ſent me in. Whither in the name of Mercury was that? To ſee how the Lady Donna Fiozza did. Oh! how does her beauteous Ladiſhip? Sick, terrible ſick. Phyſick defend! prethee of what diſeaſe? Yeſterday her Monkey had a fall off the ſide table, and ever ſince ſhe has had a ſtrange fit of an ague. How does her Lord? Faith not well neither, and therefore he begins to be moſt ſparingly vertuous. The pox he does. On my fidelitie you are the foule mouth'dſt gallant that ever wore Cloves in's Gummes: you ſay an Italian Count has the pox. Your neater word good Galateo? By this light you Courtiers bee the dulleſt creatures living; you learne nothing but flattery and begging. You muſt know ſir in a Nobleman 'tis abuſive; no; in him the Sarpigo; in a Knight the Grincomes; in a Gentleman the Neopolitan ſcabb; and in a Servingman or Artificer the plaine Pox: Iuſt as your ſaying goes, that Noblemen bee never drunke, but take a ſurfeit; Schollers be ill at eaſe; and poore men onely they are drunke, yet all's but one diſeaſe: There's an old rime for you: adieu Signior, I muſt to my Lord. Farewell hedge-pike. Did my Lord ſo farre impart the buſineſſe to your ſelfe? He did, and does intend to uſe my help alone in effecting of his project. I prethee returne him this anſwer, and bee ſilent. Sweet villany, thou art the thrivingſt trade under heaven. Warme blood aſſiſt me! how has wonder ſeiz'd The frozen paſſages that ſlowly guide My ſhivering ſpirits up to the ſeat of life! Murder the Duke! now innocence forbid, And let our ſelves be as out loves, unſtain'd. Tyrannous affection! can thy transforming power Enforce our paſſions thus beyond our ſelves? Rob us of nature and the ſenſe of man? Seize all our actions? force us to forget That we are children? and with loves finger blot Cleane from our thoughts the pietie we owe To them that gave us life? Carry us headlong To ſuch a gulfe of ſinne? where we muſt drowne Our ſelves, our honour, and that ſecure content A guiltleſſe conſcience brings to innocence! Ah deare Lucilio! how are thy vertues dimm'd In my beſt thoughts, that like a Chriſtall mirrour Still held the ſhapes of thy deſerving actions Vnſpottedly reſembl'd! what ſpirit of night Has mixt it ſelfe with thoſe untainted vowes Thy never yet ambitious ſoule pour'd forth To attend our loves? Some Angel, deare Lucilio, Deſcend into thy fancy to perſwade thee By all the bands Love, Duty, Nature, Heaven, Can bring to binde thee in a tender feare Of roughly breathing on the ſofteſt ayre That toucheth but his ſafetie, to deſiſt. From this unnaturall act of paricide. Fatall experience ſpeakes; and makes it good, They ſtand not firme that riſe by ſteps of blood.