Nabbes, Thomas · published 1638 · first performed or written 1638 (Annals) comedy · Prince Charles's Men (second) (?); King's Revels Company (?) · Salisbury Court T11 Siblings, kin and confidants typicality 0.90 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
Good gentleman, he is jealous, and would circumvent her. here's half a crown wench; methinks 'tis a fair rate. Ha! singer in the eye? Keep thy tears for penance in Bride well. Cry when money's offered thee? Oh Brother. Ha! are you my Sister? Your Sister Bellamie. Why she's in the Country at mine uncles, Teaching her hand some neat industrious practice; Or painting with her needle the rare form Of some choice flower; to her busy servant Discoursing Morals; or perhaps at prayers, Or meditation: these were her exercises; Not prostitution. What an impudence Is this imposture? Temper your anger brother, For it appears i'th' wrinkles of your brow. And let not passion burn your jealous fears With an intemperate heat. I have a story You'll pity, though all natural affection Were quite extinguished. Then you are my Sister? Dissemble not those doubts; but hear me. Noah. I'm deaf to all excuse. 'Tis too apparent. Possess me virtuous rage; make me the instrument Of a religious justice. Guard me innocence. Oh that the knowing soul, which can distinguish itself and powers; should yield her government To the lascivious appetite of sense: And under such a base subjection Ruin her noble parts. True estimation Is grounded on the actions of the mind: And to determine bravely, well as honestly, Must be the last, and most refined digestion Of a high flying nature. Such should hers be. She wanted not th'instruction, nor example Of worthy Parents, that honour is the most Essential part of life, and valued 'bove it. Good gentleman, he's troubled. Oh hypocrisy, Thy painted shows must likewise mock our judgements Into an apt credulity, that makes Bad worse by the dissembling. Had she wanted Or means of power or fortune to discover This inclination; like the Serpent numbed With a long rigidness, forbears to sting His warmer's bosom, not because he hath not A poison; but because the force thereof Is feebled by the cold. You seem disturbed sir. who'll ever trust devotion, or believe That any zeal is earnest? I should rather Have called an Eremite hypocrite: or suspected Th'austerities of an Anchorite to be But for vainglory or a common fame, Than her appearing goodness. Fury prompts me To a black act. 'Tis well I have no sword. But may she not survive her first repentance; Which shame or punishment shall teach her quickly. Lustful insatiate whore. Could not a husband Have cooled your blood? You need no other weapon, Those words have killed me. Ay me, what have you done sir? help, help. If it be earnest, cured a wounded fame. My reputation would have bled a little, Had she lived longer infamous: her death May lose the memory of her dishonour. Good gentlewoman she faints. Help, help. The cry came from this Chamber. 'Sfoot sir, 'tis Mistress Cicely, and Cicely Mistress. Ha, ha, sir; did you put her to the squeak? I'll put you— Hold sirrah.
Prince Charles's Men (second) (?); King's Revels Company (?)
Theater
Salisbury Court;Indoor Professional
Genre (British Drama)
comedy
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 1077 · TCP A07978 · DEEP 899
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 1272–1343 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 24 of 33 in this edition
Length
492 words · 672 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T11 — Siblings, kin and confidantscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.895 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T15 · seed 44: T12 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Good gentleman, hee is jealous, and would circumvent her. Here's halfe a crowne wench; me thinks 'tis a faire rate. Ha! singer in the eye? Keepe thy teares for pennance in Bride well. Crye when money's offer'd thee? Oh Brother. Ha! are you my Sister? Your Sster Bellamie. Why see's in the Countrey at mine Vncles, Teaching her hand some neat industrious practice; Or painting with her needle the rare forme Of some choyce flower; to her busie servant Discoursing Moralls; or perhaps at prayers, Or meditation: these were her exercises; Not prostitution. What an impudence Is this imposture? Temper your anger brother, For it appeares i'th wrincles of your brow. And let not passion burne your jealous feares With an intemperate heat. I have a story You'l pitty, though all naturall affection Were quite extinguisht. Then you are my Sister? Dissemble not those doubts; but heare me. Noe. I'm deafe to all excuse. 'Tis too apparant. Possesse me vertuous rage; make me the instrument Of a religious justice. Guard me innocence. Oh that the knowing soule, which can distinguish It selfe and powers; should yeeld her government To the lascivious appetite of sense: And under such a base subjection Ruine her noble parts. True estimation Is grounded on the actions of the minde: And to determine bravely, well as honestly, Must be the last, and most refin'd digestion Of a high flying nature. Such should hers be. She wanted not th'instruction, nor example Of worthy Parents, that honour is the most Essentiall part of life, and valewd 'bove it. Good gentleman, hee's troubled. Oh hypocrisie, Thy painted showes must likewise mock our judgments Into an apt credulitie, that makes Bad worse by the dissembling. Had shee wanted Or meanes of power or fortune to discover This inclination; like the Serpent numb'd With a long rigidnesse, forbeare's to sting His warmers bosome, not because he hath not A poyson; but because the force thereof Is feebled by the cold. You seeme disturb'd sir. Who'lever trust devotion, or believe That any zeale is earnest? I should rather Have call'd an Eremite hypocrite: or suspected Th'austerities of an Anchorite to be But for vaine-glory or a common fame, Then her appearing goodnesse. Fury prompts me To a black act. 'Tis well I have no sword. But may she not survive her first repentance; Which shame or punishment shall teach her quickly. Lustfull insatiate whore. Could not a husband Have coold your bloud? You need no other weapon, Those words have kill'd me. Ay me, what have you done sir? helpe, helpe. If it be earnest, cur'd a wounded fame. My reputation would have bled a little, Had she liv'd longer infamous: her death May lose the memory of her dishonour. Good gentlewoman she faints. Helpe, helpe. The cry came from this Chamber. 'Sfoot sir, 'tis Mistris Cieley, and Ciceley Mistris. Ha, ha, sir; did you put her to the squeake? I'le put you— Hold sirrah.