Fletcher, John / Massinger, Philip · published 1637 · first performed or written 1625(?) (Annals) comedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 463 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
Nay, then there is no jesting. Do I live, And know my father injured? And what's worse Sir, My Lady Angellina— What of her? she's carried away too. How? While you were absent, A crew of Monsieur Lewis friends and kinsmen By force broke in at th' back part of the house And took her away by violence, faithful Andrew, (As this can witness for him) did his best, In her defence, but 't would not do. Away, And see our horses saddled, 'tis no time To talk, but do: Eustace, you now are offered A spacious field, and in a pious war To exercise you valour, here's a cause, And such a one, in which to fall is honourable, Your duty and reverence due to a father's name Commanding it; but these unnatural jars Arising between brothers (should you prosper) Would shame your victory. I would do much Sir, But still my reputation! Charles shall give you All decent satisfaction; nay, join hands, And heartily; why this is done like brothers; And old as I am, in this cause that concerns The honour of our family, Monsieur Lewis (If reason cannot work) shall find and feel There's hot blood in this arm, I'll lead you bravely. And if I follow not, a coward's name Be branded on my forehead. This spirit makes you A sharer in my fortunes. And in mine, Of which (Brisac once freed, and Angellina Again in our possession) you shall know My heart speaks in my tongue. I dare not doubt it, Sir. I'm deaf to all persuasion. I use none, Nor doubt I, though a while my innocence suffers, But when the King shall understand how falsely Your malice hath informed him, he in justice Must set me right again. Sir, let not passion So far transport you as to think in reason, This violent course repairs, but ruins it; That honour you would build up you destroy; What you would seem to nourish, if respect Of my preferment or my reputation May challenge your paternal love and care, Why do you, now good fortune has provided A better husband for me than your hopes Could ever fancy, strive to rob me of him? In what is my Lord Charles defective, Sir? Unless deep learning be a blemish in him, Or well proportioned limbs be mulcts in Nature, Or what you only aimed at large revenues, Are on the sudden grown distasteful to you? Of what can you accuse him? Of a rape Done to honour, which thy ravenous lust Made thee consent to. Her lust! you are her father. And you her Bawd. Were you ten Lords, 'tis false, The pureness of her chaste thoughts entertain not Such spotted instruments. As I have a soul Sir.
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)
Nay, then there is no jesting. Doe I live, And know my father injur'd? And what's worse Sir, My Lady Angellina— What of her? Shee's carryed away too. How? While you were absent, A crew of Monsieur Lewis friends and kinsmen By force brake in at th' backe part of the house And tooke her away by violence, faithfull Andrew, (As this can witnesse for him) did his best, In her defence, but 't would not doe. Away, And see our horses sadled, 'tis no time To talke, but doe: Eustace, you now are offer'd A spatious field, and in a pious warre To exercise you valour, here's a cause, And such a one, in which to fall is honourable, Your duty and reverence due to a fathers name Commanding it; but these unnaturall jarres Arising betweene brothers (should you prosper) Would shame your victory. I would doe much Sir, But still my reputation! Charles shall give you All decent satisfaction; nay, joyne hands, And heartily; why this is done like brothers; And old as I am, in this cause that concernes The honour of our family, Monsieur Lewis (If reason cannot worke) shall finde and feele There's hot blood in this arme, Ile lead you bravely. And if I follow not, a Cowards name Be branded on my forehead. This spirit makes you A sharer in my fortunes. And in mine, Of which (Brisac once freed, and Angellina Againe in our possession) you shall know My heart speakes in my tongue. I dare not doubt it, Sir. I'me deafe to all perswasion. I use none, Nor doubt I, though a while my innocence suffers, But when the King shall understand how falsely Your malice hath inform'd him, he in justice Must set me right againe. Sir, let not passion So farre transport you as to thinke in reason, This violent course repaires, but ruines it; That honour you would build up you destroy; What you would seeme to nourish, if respect Of my preferment or my reputation May challenge your paternall love and care, Why doe you, now good fortune has provided A better husband for me than your hopes Could ever fancy, strive to robbe me of him? In what is my Lord Charles defective, Sir? Unlesse deepe learning be a blemish in him, Or well proportion'd limbs be mulcts in Nature, Or what you onely aim'd at large revenewes, Are on the sudden growne distastfull to you? Of what can you accuse him? Of a rape Done to honour, which thy ravenous lust Made thee consent to. Her lust! you are her father. And you her Bawd. Were you ten Lords, 'tis false, The purenesse of her chaste thoughts entertaine not Such spotted instruments. As I have a soule Sir.