Shirley, James · published 1637 · first performed or written 1633 [licensed for stage, Nov 11] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
'tis time then to be plain, it was a wonder I could be so long silent, did you like Your last night's lodging? Very, very well; I went not to bed all night. You did not lie with Mistress Penelope my kinswoman? Refuse me if I did. You need not swear; But 'twas no fault of yours, no fault no virtue: But 'tis no place to expostulate these actions. In brief know 'twas my plot, for I observed Which way your warm affection moved, & wrought So with my honest cousin to supply Her wanton place, that with some shame at last, I might deceive your hard heart into kindness. That, that again sweet wife, and be a little Serious; was it your plot to excuse your cousin, And be the bedfellow? Heaven knows 'tis truth. I am fitted, fitted with a pair of horns Of my own making. Thank, and think upon That providence that would not have you lost In such a Forest of loose thoughts, and be yourself again; I am your handmaid still, And have learned so much piety to conceal whatever should dishonour you. It buds, It buds already. I shall turn stark mad, Horn mad. What ail you? are you vexed because Your wantonness thrived so well? Well with a vengeance. I did expect your thanks. Yes, I do thank you, thank you heartily, Most infinitely thank you. Doth this merit No other payment but your scorn, then know Bad man, 'tis in my power to be revenged, And what I had a resolution Should sleep in silent darkness, now shall look Day in the face, i'll publish to the World How I am wronged, and with what stubborness You have despised the cure of your own fame; Nor shall my cousin suffer in her honour. I stoop as low as earth to show my duty, But too much trampled on I rise to tell The World I am a woman. No, no; hark you, I do not mock you, I am taken with The conceit, what a fine thing I have made myself. ne'er speak on't, thy device shall take; i'll love thee. And kiss thee for't, thou'st paid me handsomely: An admirable plot, and followed cunningly, I'll see thee anon again, and lie with thee tonight, without a stratagem. The gentlewomen Expect thee; keep all close, dear wife, no sentences. I am tricked and trimmed at my own charges rarely, I'll seek out somebody again. I have presumed too much upon your patience, I have discovered, and I hope 'twill take. I wish it may. You are sad still, Leonora. Remove these thoughts: come i'll wait on you now To the Exchange: some toys may there strike off Their sad remembrance. I attend you. Farewell. The gentleman that was yesterday to speak with you Is come again to visit you. S. Richard Hurry? The same, sir. You may admit him.
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)
Tis time then to be plaine, it was a wonder I could be so long silent, did you like Your last nights lodging? Very, very well; I went not to bed all night. You did not lie with Mistresse Penelope my kinswoman? Refuse me if I did. You neede not sweare; But 'twas no fault of yours, no fault no vertue: But 'tis no place to expostulate these actions. In breife know 'twas my plott, for I observ'd Which way your warme affection mov'd, & wrought So with my honest cozen to supplie Her wanton place, that with some shame at last, I might deceive your hard heart into kindnes. That, that agen sweete wife, and be a little Serious; was it your plott to excuse your cozen, And be the bed-fellow? Heaven knowes 'tis truth. I am fitted, fitted with a paire of hornes Of my owne making. Thanke, and thinke upon That providence that would not have you lost In such a Forrest of loose thoughts, and bee Your selfe agen; I am your hand-maid still, And have learned so much pietie to conceale What ever should dishonor you. It budds, It budds alreadie. I shall turne starke mad, Horne mad. What aile you? are you vext because Your wantonnesse thriv'd so well? Well with a vengance. I did expect your thanks. Yes, I do thanke you, thanke you heartilie, Most infinitly thanke you. Doth this merit No other payment but your scorne, then know Bad man, 'tis in my power to be reveng'd, And what I had a resolution Should sleepe in silent darknes, now shall looke Day in the face, i'le publish to the World How I am wrong'd, and with what stubbornesse You have despis'd the cure of your owne fame; Nor shall my Cozen suffer in her honor▪ I stoope as low as earth to shew my dutie, But too much trampl'd on I rise to tell The World I am a woman. No, no; harke you, I doe not mocke you, I am taken with The conceit, what a fine thing I have made my selfe. Nere speake on't, thy device shall take; i'le love thee. And kisse thee for't, tha'st paid me handsomelie: An admirable plot, and follow'd cunninglie, I'le see thee anon agen, and lie with thee To night, without a stratagemme. The gentlewomen Expect thee; keepe all close, deare wife, no sentences. I am trick'd and trim'd at my owne charges rarely, I'le seeke out some body agen. I have presum'd too much upon your patience, I have discover'd, and I hope t'will take. I wish it may. You are sad still, Leonora. Remove these thoughts: come i'le waite on you now To the Exchange: some toyes may there strike off Their sad remembrance. I attend you. Farewell. The gentleman that was yesterday to speake with you Is come againe to visite you. S. Richard Hurry? The same, sir. You may admit him.