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 0.87 · 544 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
O Lidia, Of Maids the honour, and your sex's glory. It is not fear to die, but to lose you That brings this Fever on me. I will now Discover to you, that which till this minute I durst not trust the air with. Ere you knew What power the magic of your beauty had, I was enchanted by it, liked, and loved it, My fondness still increasing with my years: And flattered by false hopes, I did attend Some blessed opportunity to move The Duke with his consent to make you mine. But now, such is my star-crossed destiny, When he beholds you as you are, he cannot Deny himself the happiness to enjoy you. And I as well in reason may entreat him To give away his Crown, as to part from A jewel of more value, such you are: Yet howsoever, when you are his Duchess, And I am turned into forgotten dust, Pray you love my memory. I should say more But I am eve off. The Duke? that convenance once, When it was clothed in smiles, showed like an Angels, But now 'tis folded up in clouds of fury, 'Tis terrible to look on. Sir. A while Silence your musical tongue, and let me feast My eyes with the most ravishing object that They ever gazed on. There's no miniature In her fair face, but is a copious theme Which would (discoursed at large of) make a volume. What clear arched brows? what sparkling eyes? the Lilies Contending with the Roses in her cheeks, Who shall most set them off? what ruby lips? Or unto what can I compare her neck, But to a rock of crystal? every limb Proportioned to love's wish, and in their neatness Add lustre to the riches of her habit, Not borrow from it. You are pleased to show Sir The fluency of your language, in advancing A Subject much unworthy. How unworthy? By all the vows which Lovers offer at The Cyprian Goddess Altars, eloquence itself presuming, as you are, to speak you, Would be struck dumb. And what have you deserved then? (Wretches you kneel too late) that have endeavoured To spout the poison of your black detraction On this immaculate whiteness? was it malice To her perfections? or— Your Highness promised A gracious hearing to the Count. And Prince too; Do not make void so just a grant. We will not, Yet since their accusation must be urged, And strongly, ere their weak defence have hearing, We seat you here as Judges to determine Of your gross wrongs and ours. And now remembering Whose Deputies you are, be neither swayed, Or with particular spleen, or foolish pity, For neither can become you. There's some hope yet Since they have such gentle judges. Rise, and stand forth then, And hear with horror to your guilty souls What we will prove against you. Could this Princess (Thou enemy to thyself) stoop her high flight Of towering greatness to invite thy lowness To look up to it, and with nimble wings Of gratitude, couldst thou forbear to meet it? Were her favours boundless in a noble way, And warranted by our allowance, yet In thy acceptation there appeared no sign Of a modest thankfulness?
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)
O Lidia, Of Mayds the honor, and your sexes glory. It is not feare to die, but to loose you That brings this Feaver on me. I will now Discover to you, that which till this minute I durst not trust the ayre with. Ere you knew What power the magique of your beauty had, I was inchanted by it, lik'd, and lov'd it, My fondnesse still encreasing with my yeares: And flatter'd by false hopes, I did attend Some blessed oportunity to move The Duke with his consent to make you mine. But now, such is my starre-cross'd destinie, When he beholds you as you are, he cannot Denie himselfe the happinesse to enjoy you. And I as well in reason may entreat him To give away his Crowne, as to part from A jewell of more value, such you are: Yet howsoever, when you are his Dutchesse, And I am turn'd into forgotten dust, Pray you love my memory. I should say more But I am eue off. The Duke? that counvenance once, When it was cloth'd in smiles, shew'd like an Angels, But now 'tis folded up in clouds of fury, 'Tis terrible to looke on. Sir. A while Silence your musicall tongue, and let me feast My eyes with the most ravishing object that They ever gaz'd on. There's no miniature In her faire face, but is a copious theme Which would (discours'd at large of) make a volume. What cleare arch'd browes? what sparkling eyes? the Lillies Contending with the Roses in her cheekes, Who shall most set them off? what ruby lips? Or unto what can I compare her neck, But to a rock of christall? every limb Proportion'd to loves wish, and in their neatnesse Add lustre to the riches of her habit, Not borrow from it. You are pleas'd to shew Sir The fluencie of your language, in advancing A Subject much unworthy. How unworthy? By all the vowes which Lovers offer at The Cyprian Goddesse Altars, eloquence It selfe presuming, as you are, to speake you, Would be struck dumb. And what have you deserv'd then? (VVretches you kneele too late) that have endevour'd To spout the poyson of your black detraction On this immaculate whitenesse? was it malice To her perfections? or — Your Highnesse promis'd A gracious hearing to the Count. And Prince too; Doe not make voyde so just a grant. We will not, Yet since their accusation must be urg'd, And strongly, ere their weak defence have hearing, We seat you here as Judges to determine Of your grosse wrongs and ours. And now remembring Whose Deputies you are, be neither sway'd, Or with particular spleene, or foolish pittie, For neither can become you. There's some hope yet Since they have such gentle Iudges. Rise, and stand forth then, And heare with horror to your guilty soules What we will prove against you. Could this Princesse (Thou enemie to thy selfe) stoope her high flight Of towring greatnesse to invite thy lownesse To looke up to it, and with nimble wings Of gratitude, couldst thou forbeare to meet it? Were her favours boundlesse in a noble way, And warranted by our allowance, yet In thy acceptation there appear'd no signe Of a modest thankfulnesse?