Heywood, Thomas · published 1636 · first performed or written 1635 [1634-1636] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 476 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
What prostrates them Mounts me to expectations: my blessed choice, Now I have seen thy apparent innocence, Queen I shall die contented. Oh, till now, I never thought to be vanquished. Pox on that slipper. Stand you all mute? then give me leave to speak. Sir, what doth this concern you? Woman, peace. Oh sit, you are my brother. Strumpet hence, Would I had never known thee, thou hast made me A foreign scorn, and where I aim at honour Most infamous and loathed, this vitiated beauty Even by her own confession late deflowered I beg from this most sacred Majesty, To see severely chastised: being English To have that English shame and punishment, Due to the like offenders. Shee stands eler'd By her accusers silence. This may be A mere confederacy, but to my fears At all no satisfaction, her own tongue Hath published her a mechal prostitute, And that is my first truth. I pray Sir, What is this matchless beauty unto you, Being already in yourself engaged To this fair Creature, that this stranger's case Should any way be yours. Spain's admiration. And wonder of a friend, I dare to you Be plain and serious: to all others ears I Wish my words locked in silence: Oh, with shame And infamy I speak it, desiring heaven 'T might be my last of speech, this thing, polluted This (would I had aught else to style her by) But needs out, out it must, she is my— my Sister. Flesh and blood? The same, Oh me, the same, my natural Sister. Father and mother? So. You are not honest, And now no more my friend: I do begin To doubt you, nay most heinously suspect you, I scarce can think you a true moral man, Much less Religious: Ferrers before these, This Royal bench, either confess thee mad, Desperate, and quite given o'er to calumny Or in behalf of this (I know not who) I challenge thee the combat. Oh, you are mine And I vowed ever yours. Come, no such thing. Either pronounce this Lady innocent, Or I denounce thee miscreant. Though I have stood In silence all this while, yet in this cause I, I myself am taxed: and to approve This Ladies Beauty, virtue, chastity I'll be this Spanyard's second. I am wronged. And thou hast done't, try both, I should be first, But be thou what thou canst be, he or thou, So freely hath this Lady showed herself Mine, so I now dare term her, that in spite Of spleen or envy's opposition; It is a thing I do desire to embrace And meet in violent lightnings: and then I speak it, she is mine: and this encounter Concerns me, only me; who intercepts me Is guilty of my challenge, his own death, Her injury, and my most just revenge.
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)
What prostrates them Mounts me to expectations: my blest choyse, Now I have seene thy apparant innocence, Queene I shall die contented. Oh, till now, I never thought to bee vanquish't. Pox on that slipper. Stand you all mute? then give me leave to speake. Sir, what doth this concerne you? Woman, peace. Oh sit, you are my brother. Strumpet hence, Would I had never knowne thee, thou hast made mee A forren scorne, and where I aime at honour Most infamous and loath'd, this vitiated beauty Even by her owne confession late deflowrd I beg from this most sacred Majesty, To see severely chastis'd: being English To have that English shame and punishment, Due to the like offendours. Shee stands eler'd By her accusers silence. This may be A meere confederacy, but to my feares At all no satisfaction, her owne tongue Hath publish't her a mechall prostitute, And that is my first truth. I pray Sir, What is this matchlesse beauty unto you, Being already in your selfe ingag'd To this faire Creature, that this Strangers case Should any way be yours. Spaines admiration. And wonder of a friend, I dare to you Be plaine and serious: to all others eares I Wish my words lock't in silence: Oh, with shame And infamy I speake it, defiring heaven 'T might be my last of speech, this thing, polluted This (would I had ought elce to stile her by) But needes out, out it must, she is my—my Sister. Flesh and blood? The same, Oh me, the same, my naturall Sister. Father and mother? So. You are not honest, And now no more my friend: I doe begin To doubt you, nay most hainously suspect you, I scarce can thinke you a true morall man, Much lesse Religious: Ferrers before these, This Royall bench, either confesse thee mad, Des erate, and quite given o're to callumnie Or in behalfe of this (I know not who) I chalenge thee the combat. Oh, you are mine And I vowed ever yours. Come, no such thing. Either pronounce this Lady innocent, Or I denounce thee miscreant. Though I have stood In silence all this while, yet in this cause I, I my selfe am taxt: and to approve This Ladies Beautie, vertue, chastity I'le be this Spanyard's second. I am wrongd. And thou hast don't, try both, I should be first, But be thou what thou canst be, he or thou, So freely hath this Lady shew'd her selfe Mine, so I now dare terme her, that in spight Of spleene or envie's opposition; It is a thing I doe desire to imbrace And meet in violent lightnings: and then I speake it, she is mine: and this encounter Concernes me, onely me; who intercepts me Is guilty of my chalenge, his owne death, Her injury, and my most just revenge.