Heywood, Thomas · published 1636 · first performed or written 1635 [1634-1636] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T59 Spanish courts: war, honour and courtshi · 524 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T59: andrea, spain, portugal, tribute, horatio, king, bellimperia, prince, lord, lorenzo.
I should have said what you are forced to acknowledge that my beauty had been the better man. I am proud of that, my further honour still. All this while you are beholding to my beauty, & I nothing in debt to your valour, which for aught I gather, is nothing at all Nothing? to enter, and hold single combat With such a daring opposite, nothing, to take These dangerous wounds, and bring 'em home undressed? 'Twas I confess somewhat to take these wounds, yet in my mind he that gives the cognizance has more reason to boast of it, than he that wears it: show me the man that gave you these wounds and I'll commend his valour. For giving of 'em? Knight there's small honour in taking of 'em though in my judgement, but what was he? A man whose noble valour I must speak. Good reason, he has paid you soundly for't afore hand. In love and honour I shall ever serve him. So I thought, for you wear a livery of his, cut to the skin and lined with Crimson: had you gin't him, I should have cane you for the Master. But pardon me, I soar too high for a servingman, your ear, I am modest, away, hie to the suburbs, bribe some honest barber-surgeon to wash off your dishonour and hear your infamy. That done once, learn this tenet of the war, The honour's more to give than wear a scar. Each coward may do that. 'Tis not my fate but mine own imperfection, That makes the act in itself good and laudable, Ill and distasteful, were my services Done by some other, they must needs become And grace the owner, were my words delivered From any tongue but mine, they could not choose But win attention: Had my love been bred In any breast but mine, it could not thus Be scorned and baffled. I of all the world Am most infortunate, neither act, word, or love Can please your audience, or compassion move. AFter our tedious travels we at length Are safe arrived in England, speak what use Hast made of our long Voyage? Such as traveller's use, for by long practice I am now at length grown perfect, and the truth is I can lie in any language. But in our quest of this rare piece of beauty And Virtue mixed, to rival the great Princess, What thinkest thou of our trial made in Spain? I think of it as I ever did, that's as of a bottle of hay, and the Creature you talk of, a Needle a very Spanish Needle, which I fear you will never live to hit full in the eye: Spain! there are so many moor in't, that I know you would hope of nothing less: beside the most beauties of Spain have been oft in Civil. What then of Portugal? Worse than the tother: the Women there are for the most part like their oranges, the fairer the outside the rottenner within, and the founder at the heart, the rougher the skin; the Country is too hot, too hot.
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)
I should have said what you are forc't to acknowledge that my beauty had been the better man. I am proud of that, my further honour still. All this while you are beholding to my beauty, & I nothing in debt to your valour, which for ought I gather, is nothing at all Nothing? to enter, and hold single combat With such a daring opposite, nothing, to take These dangerous wounds, and bring em home undrest? 'Twas I confesse somewhat to takethese wounds, yet in my minde he that gives the cognizance has more reason to boast of it, than hee that weares it: shew mee the man that gave you these wounds and I'le commend his valour. For giving of 'em? Knight there's small honour in taking of 'em though in my judgement, but what was he? A man whose noble valour I must speake. Good reason, he has paid you soundly for't afore hand. In love and honour I shall ever serve him. So I thought, for you weare a livery of his, cut to the skin and lind with Crimson: had you gin't him, I should have cane you for the Master. But pardon me, I foare too high for a servingman, your eare, I am modest, away, hie to the subures, bribe some honest Barbarsurgeon to wash off your dishonor and heae your intamy. That done once, learne this tenet of the war, The honour's more to give than weare a scar. Each coward may doe that. 'Tis not my fate but mine owne imperfection, That makes the act in it selfe good and laudable, Ill and distastfull, were my services Done by some other, they must needs become And grace the owner, were my words deliv'rd From any tongue but mine, they could not choose But win attention: Had my love beene bred In any breast but mine, it could not thus Be scorn'd and bafled. I of all the world Am most infortunate, neither act, word, or love Can please your audience, or compassion move. AFter our tedious travells wee at length Are safe arriv'd in England, speake what use Hast made of our long Voyage? Such as Travellers use, for by long practise I am now at length growne perfect, and the truth is I can lie in any language. But in our quest of this rare piece of beauty And Vertne mixt, to rival the great Princesse, What thinkest thou of our triall made in Spaine? I thinke of it as I ever did, that's as of a bottle of hay, and the Creature you talke of, a Needle Spanish Needle, which I feare you wil never live to hit ful in the eie: Spayne! there are so many Mores int, that I know you would hope of nothing lesse: besides the most beauties of Spaine have been oft in Civill. What then of Portugall? Worse then the tother: the Women there are for the most part like their Orindges, the fayrer the outside the rottenner within, and the founder at the heart, the rougher the skinne; the Country is too hot, too hot.