Massinger, Philip · published 1636 · first performed or written 1627 [licensed for stage, Jul 5] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.79 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
For the Count, Sir, All thought of him does with his person die; But I confess ingenuously I cannot So soon forget the choice, and chaste delights The courteous conversation of the Prince, And without stain I hope, afforded me When he made this house a Court. It is in us To keep it so without him. Want we know not, And all we can complain of (heaven be praised for) Is too much plenty, & we will make use of All lawful pleasures. How now fellows, when Shall we have this lusty dance? In the afternoon Sir, 'Tis a device Iwis of my own making, And such a one, as shall make your Signiorship know I have not been your butler for nothing, but I have crotchets in my head. We'll trip it tightly, And make my sad young Mistress merry again, Or I'll foreswore the Cellar. If we had Our fellow Calandrino here to dance His part, we were perfect. O, he was a rare fellow; But I fear the Court hath spoiled him. When I was young I could have cut a caper on a pinnacle, But now I am old & wise, keep your figure fair, And follow but the sample I shall set you, The Duke himself will send for us, and laugh at us, And that were credit. Who have we here? I find What was brawn in the Country, in the Court grows tender. The bots on these jolting Jades, I am bruised to jelly. A Coach for my money! and that the courtesans know well, Their riding so, makes them last three years longer Than such as are hackneyed. Calandrino, 'tis he. Now to my postures. Let my hand have the honour To convey a kiss from my lips to the cover of Your foot dear Signior. Fie, you stoop too low Sir. The hem of your vestment Lady. Your Glove is for Princes, Nay, I have conned my distances. 'Tis most Courtly. Fellow Calandrino! Signior de Caponi, Grand Botelier of the Mansion. How is't man? Be not so rustic in your salutations, Signior Bernardo, Master of the accounts. Signior Petruchio, may you long continue Your function in the chamber. When shall we learn such gambols in our villa? Sure he's mad. 'Tis not unlike, for most of such mushrooms are so. What news at Court? Basto! they are mysteries, And not to be revealed. With your favour Signior, I am in private to confer a while With this Signiora. But I'll pawn my honour, That neither my terse language, nor my habit howe'er it may convince, nor my new shrugs, Shall render her enamoured. Take your pleasure A little of these apish tricks may pass, Too much is tedious. The Prince in this paper Presents his service. Nay, it is not Courtly To see the seal broke open. So I leave you. Signiors of the Villa, I'll descend to be Familiar with you. Have you forgot to dance?
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
For the Count, Sir, All thought of him does with his person die; But I confesse ingenuously I cannot So soone forget the choyce, and chast delights The curteous conversation of the Prince, And without staine I hope, afforded me When he made this house a Court. It is in us To keepe it so without him. Want we know not, And all we can complaine of (heaven be prais'd for) Is too much plenty, & we will make use of All lawfull pleasures. How now fellowes, when Shall we have this lusty dance? In the after-noone Sir, 'Tis a device Iwis of my owne making, And such a one, as shal make your Signiorship know I have not beene your Butlar for nothing, but I have crotchets in my head. We'll trip it titely, And make my sad young Mistresse merry againe, Or I'll forsware the Cellar. If we had Our fellow Calandrino here to dance His part, we were perfect. O, he was a rare fellow; But I feare the Court hath spoil'd him. When I was young I could have cut a caper on a pinnacle, But now I am old & wise, keepe your figure faire, And follow but the sample I shall set you, The Duke himselfe will send for us, and laugh at us, And that were credit. Who have we here? I finde VVhat was brawne in the Country, in the Court growes tender. The bots on these joulting Jades, I am bruis'd to jelly. A Coach for my mony! and that the Curtezans know well, Their riding so, makes them last three yeares longer Then such as are hacknei'd. Calandrino, 'tis he. Now to my postures. Let my hand have the honor To convey a kisse from my lips to the cover of Your foote deere Signior. Fie, you stoope too low Sir. The hemme of your vestment Lady. Your Glove is for Princes, Nay, I have con'd my distances. 'Tis most Courtly. Fellow Calandrino! Signior de Caponi, Grand Botelier of the Mansion. How is't man? Be not so rustique in your salutations, Signior Bernardo, Master of the accounts. Signior Petruchio, may you long continue Your function in the chamber. When shall we learne such gambolls in our villa? Sure he's mad. 'Tis not unlike, for most of such mushroomes are so. What newes at Court? Basto! they are mysteries, And not to be reveal'd. With your favour Signior, I am in private to conferre a while With this Signiora. But I'll pawne my honour, That neither my terse language, nor my habit How e're it may convince, nor my new shrugs, Shall render her enamour'd. Take your pleasure A little of these apish tricks may passe, Too much is tedious. The Prince in this paper Presents his service. Nay, it is not Courtly To see the seale broke open. So I leave you. Signiors of the Villa, I'll descend to be Familiar with you. Have you forgot to dance?