Nabbes, Thomas · published 1637 · first performed or written 1635 (Annals) tragedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.74 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Still that passion! I thought her memory had been washed away With the large streams of blood so lately flowed From his victorious sword. Come Massanissa You shall enjoy a Roman Lady; one That shall outvie the glory of a sun Throned in his clearest sky, and make his light Appear but as a shadow to her beauty, One that shall comprehend within herself All that was ever feigned of other women, And make their fables probable. Rome hath not Another Sophonisba. That the wealth Of Rome's best province might but ransom home His lost command o'er passions. A Spanish captive. Did ever innocence Look sweeter as if she were joyed to make This little frame her mansion. Why d''ee weep? They shall not hurt you pretty one. They say They'll carry me to Rome. Suppose they do; Romans are full of gentleness, and mildly Will entertain you; where you shall be taught Civility of manners. Education Clothing your mind in ornaments of virtue Fitting your expectation, and your beauty Ripped with mature age, Roman Knights shall court it. Perhaps myself would take you to my bed. Indeed you should not. You are a rough soldier; Your looks would fright me. Can you then deny To cherish such a hope? You should enjoy Delights above your wish. Your house should be A court of pleasure. Spring should always dwell Within your gardens, as it Tempe were Translated thither. virgin's should attend you Fair as the morning, when she ushers in The day with blushes. Your baths should be the dew Gathered from Roses, and your garments soft As the curled air, by mild Etesian winds Made temperate, when the Sun rides on his Lion To hunt heaven's Dog up. You should sleep on down Driven from swan's white necks; be visited By Matrons; ushered to solemnities; And at the public shows outshine the glory Of daylight with the lustre of those gems You should be decked in and a conqueror when His head's wrapped in triumphant Laurel, couch it Upon your lap. He's taken. Man's weak judgement, That calls it vice in others, which himself Is equally inclined to. I ne'er heard Of such fine things before. The barren soil That bred you is in fault. I must confess Nature hath in your yet imperfect beauty Shew'd wonders to the world: you areth'epitome Of her most curious labours; and if fortune Should in so fair a book blur any lest Exact drawn line, her deity were cruel. Your owns a barbarous country, where civility Hath scarce a name. You cannot there expect A value of yourself, above the worship Their eyes will give you, when they rudely gaze Upon your form, and by the sense distinguish The outward workmanship. We teach our souls A glorious conversation with those virtues That deck the inside of a beauteous frame, And vary pleasures, honours, earth's delights To th'imitation of that infinite And never dying part.
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Still that passion! I thought her memory had beene wash't away With the large streames of blood so lately flow'd From his victorious sword. Come Massanissa You shall enjoy a Romane Lady; one That shall out-vye the glory of a sunne Thron'd in his cleerest skie, and make his light Appeare but as a shadow to her beauty, One that shall comprehend within her selfe All that was ever faign'd of other women, And make their fables probable. Rome hath not Another Sophonisba. That the wealth Of Romes best province might but ransome home His lost command o're passions. A Spanish captive. Did ever innocence Looke sweeter as if she were joy'd to make This little frame her mansion. Why d'ee weepe? They shall not hurt you pretty one. They say They'l carry me to Rome. Suppose they doe; Romanes are full of gentlenesse, and mildly Will entertaine you; where you shall be taught Civility of manners. Education Clothing your minde in ornaments of vertue Fitting your expectation, and your beauty Rip't with mature age, Romane Knights shall court it. Perhaps my selfe would take you to my bed. Indeed you should not. You are a rough souldier; Your lookes would fright me. Can you then deny To cherish such a hope? You should enjoy Delights above your wish. Your house should be A court of pleasure. Spring should alwaies dwell Within your gardens, as it Tempe were Translated thither. Virgins should attend you Faire as the morning, when she ushers in The day with blushes. Your bathes should be the dew Gather'd from Roses, and your garments soft As the curl'd ayre, by mild Etesian windes Made temperate, when the Sunne rides on his Lion To hunt heavens Dog up. You should sleepe on downe Driven from Swannes white necks; be visited By Matrons; usher'd to solemnities; And at the publike showes out-shine the glory Of daylight with the lustre of those jemmes You should be deckt in and a conquerour when His head's wrapt in triumphant Lawrell, couch it Vpon your lap. He's taken. Mans weake judgement, That calls it vice in others, which himselfe Is equally inclin'd to. I nere heard Of such fine things before. The barren soyle That bred you is in fault. I must confesse Nature hath in your yet imperfect beauty Shew'd wonders to the world: you areth'epitome Of her most curious labours; and if fortune Should in so faire a booke blurre any lest Exact drawne line, her deity were cruell. Your owne's a barbarous country, where civility Hath scarce a name. You cannot there expect A value of your selfe, above the worship Their eyes will give you, when they rudely gaze Vpon your forme, and by the sense distinguish The outward workmanship. We teach our soules A glorious conversation with those vertues That deck the inside of a beauteous frame, And vary pleasures, honours, earths delights To th'imitation of that infinite And never dying part.