Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T46: rapier, sword, fight, gentlemen, gentleman, kicked, kill, dagger, signor, valour.
Why when we have reduced him to this impotent state, we will straight divest him, and truss him up naked in a Wheelbarrow, and send him home in the posture of an innocent, with his hands cleaving to the outsides of his knees, and his nose between his two Thumbs. Content; and we'll go pawn his clothes the while, and be drunk with the money. Stay, this is a little two Tragical, now I think on't: we'll spare his wife's night-piece for her sake, till the next conjunction— Hark— our Checkerman has him by the Poll already: now Master Constable stand close to your revenge, dissemble a fear a while, we shall be summoned straight. Come out you unpolled Stoic, 'tis time you had the courtesy of my Razor. Good sir, I need it not. I'll force it on you sir: as I am Pluto's Barber in Ordinary I will trim you, come, I long to do it, therefore sit down, and make your Beard ready for dissection— we must have help I see; Constable come hither, come I say, and fear not, but do your Office, force him to fit, if your Authority be strong enough: you trembling slave come help. I come, I come sir. Damasippus I command you to sit in the devil's name. So, hold him there. Now Damasippus before my mortal Razor seize your moral Beard, what can you say to save it? Oh sir, it is an Ornament and special gravity belonging to our Sect. Impossible that hair should argue wit; I rather think it does eclipse a good disputative face, and makes you look more like a Travelling Greek, than an Italian Stoic. Yet for Antiquity-sake spare me these hairs that never yet were cut. How! Nunquam tondenti Barba cadebat? Never since 'twas a Beard sir, it is yet tipped with the Down, the relics of my youth, and in a primitive state. Why then sir the antiquity of this your primitive Beard shows you to have been a rank enemy to our Profession. Why sir, I kept it for that end that Nature gave it, as a garment to clothe the face of age in winter. Yet know Damasippus, though it keep your face lukewarm, then; it breeds a frost in your Liver, devours the radical humour of your body, and endangers you to a Consumption: But in Summer, especially the dog-days, such a Dung-mix of hair, and vast foregrowed Beard as this, were enough to keep your Chin sweating, nine days together, and turn every hair of these to Snakes. Most devilishly argued. Now Saturn, Vertumnus, and the god of Sheep-shear guide my hand— Oh, oh— Hold, I have almost done. Shave him close. And wash him too in Lethe-water, that he may forget his way to my house. So, let him rise. Why this was quickly done. And valiantly suffered. Now Damasippus, in hope that you'll hereafter be a reformed man, I'll be no more a Devil.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Why when we have reduc'd him to this impotent ſtate, we will ſtraight diveſt him, and truſſe him up naked in a Wheele-barrow, and ſend him home in the poſture of an innocent, with his hands cleaving to the outſides of his knees, and his noſe betweene his two Thumbes. Content; and wee'll goe pawne his clothes the while, and be drunke with the money. Stay, this is a little two Tragicall, now I thinke on't: wee'll ſpare his wifes night-peece for her ſake, till the next conjunction— Harke—our Checkerman has him by the Poll already: now Maſter Conſtable ſtand cloſe to your revenge, diſſemble a feare a while, wee ſhall be ſummon'd ſtraight. Come out you unpoll'd Stoick, 'tis time you had the curteſie of my Razer. Good ſir, I need it not. I'll force it on you ſir: as I am Pluto's Barber in Ordinary I will trimme you, come, I long to doe it, therefore ſit downe, and make your Beard ready for diſſection—wee muſt have help I ſee; Conſtable come hither, come I ſay, and feare not, but doe your Office, force him to fit, if your Authoritie bee ſtrong enough: you trembling ſlave come helpe. I come, I come ſir. Damaſippus I command you to ſit in the devils name. So, hold him there. Now Damaſippus before my mortall Razer ſeize your morall Beard, what can you ſay to ſave it? Oh ſir, it is an Ornament and ſpeciall gravity belonging to our Sect. Impoſſible that haire ſhould argue wit; I rather thinke it does ecclipſe a good diſputative face, and makes you look more like a Travelling Greeke, then an Italian Stoick. Yet for Antiquitie-ſake ſpare me theſe haires that never yet were cut. How! Nunquam tondenti Barba cadebat? Never ſince 'twas a Beard ſir, it is yet tipt with the Downe, the reliques of my youth, and in a primitive ſtate. Why then ſir the antiquitie of this your primitive Beard ſhowes you to have beene a ranke enemy to our Profeſſion. Why ſir, I kept it for that end that Nature gave it, as a garment to cloathe the face of age in winter. Yet know Damaſippus, tho it keep your face lukewarme, then; it breeds a froſt in your Liver, devours the radicall humour of your body, and endangers you to a Conſumption: But in Summer, eſpecially the Dog-dayes, ſuch a Dung-mix of haire, and vaſt foregrowne Beard as this, were enough to keepe your Chin ſweating, nine dayes together, and turne every haire of theſe to Snakes. Moſt devilliſhly argu'd. Now Saturne, Vertumnus, and the god of Sheep-ſheare guide my hand— Oh, oh— Hold, I have almoſt done. Shave him cloſe. And waſh him too in Lethe-water, that he may forget his way to my houſe. So, let him riſe. Why this was quickly done. And valiantly ſuffer'd. Now Damaſippus, in hope that you'll heareafter bee a reform'd man, Ile bee no more a Devill.