Ford, John · published 1639 · first performed or written 1638 [licensed for stage, May 3] (Annals) not in BritDrama · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T59 Spanish courts: war, honour and courtshi · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T59: andrea, spain, portugal, tribute, horatio, king, bellimperia, prince, lord, lorenzo.
Don shall begin,— begin Don, she has surveyed Your outwards and your innards through the rents, And wounds of your apparel. She is politic, My outside Lady shrowds a prince obscured; I thank ye for your muthicke printh. My words Are music to her. The muthicke and the thong You thent me by thith whithling thing, your man? She took him for my man, love thou wert just. I won't hold, his man, 'tis time to speak Before my time, oh scurvy, I his man? That has no means for meat or rags, and seam-rents. Have I with this one rapier. He has no other. Past through a field of pikes, whose heads I lopped As easily as the bloody minded youth Lopped off the poppy heads. The puppet heads. Have I—have I—have I? Thou liest thou hast not, And i'll mayn't. Have I— but let that pass, For though my famous acts were damned to silence, Yet my descent shall crown me thy superior. That I would lithen to. List and wonder, My great, great grandsire was an ancient Duke, Styled Dis? vir di Gonzado. That's in Spanish An incorrigible rogue, without a fellow, An unmatched rogue, he thinks we understand not. So was my grandfather height Argozile. An arrant, arrant thief leader, pray mock it. My grandsire by the mother's side a Condee, Condee Scrivano. A crop-eared Scrivener. Whose son, my mother's father was a Marquis, Huio di puto. That's the son of a whore. And my renowned sire Don Piccace. In proper sense a rascal— O brave Don. Huio di una pravado— a' goesgoes on, Son of a branded bitch— high spirited Don, Had honours both by sea and land, to wit. The Galleys and Bridewell. I'll not endure it, To hear a canting mongrel— Hear me lady, 'tis no fair play. I care not fair or foul, I from a King derive my pedigree, King Oberon by name, from whom my father The mighty and courageous Mounti-banco, Was lineally descended, and my mother (In right of whose blood I must ever honour The lower Germany) was a harlequin. He blow up The Spaniard presently by his mother side. Her father was Grave Hansvan Herne, the son Of Hogen Mogen, dat de droates did sneighen Of veirteen hundred Spaniards in one neict. Oh Diabolo. Ten thousand Devils, nor Diabolos Shall fright me from my pedigree, my uncle Yacob van Flagon drought, with Abraham Snorten fert And youngster Brogen foh with fourscore harquebus, Managed by well-lined Butter-boxes, took A thousand Spanish Jobber-nolls by surprise, And beat a sconce about their ears. My fury Is now but justice on thy forfeit life. Lath they thall not fight. Fear not, sweet Lady. Be advised great spirits. My fortunes bid me to be wise in dvels, Else hang't, who cares? Mine honour is my tutor, Already tried and known. Why there's the point, Mine honour is my tutor too, Noble men Fight in their persons, scorn't, 'tis out of fashion, There's none but hare-brained youths of metal use it.
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)
Don ſhal begin,—begin Don, ſhe has ſurveyd Your outwards and your inwards through the rents, And wounds of your apparell. She is politicke, My out-ſide Lady ſhrowds a prince obſcurd; I thanke ye for your muthicke printh. My words Are muſique to her. The muthicke and the thong You thent me by thith whithling thing, your man? She tooke him for my man, love thou wert juſt. I wonot hould, his man, tis time to ſpeake Before my time, oh ſcurvy, I his man? That has no meanes for meat or ragges, and ſeame-rents. Have I with this one rapier. He has no other. Paſt through a field of pikes, whoſe heads I lopt As eaſily as the bloody minded youth Lopt off the poppy heads. The puppit heads. Have I—have I—have I? Thou lyeſt thou haſt not, And ile mayn't. Have I—but let that paſſe, For tho my famous acts were damb'd to ſilence, Yet my diſcent ſhall crowne me thy ſuperior. That I would lithen to. Liſt and wonder, My great, great Grandſir was an ancient Duke, Stild Dis? vir di Gonzado. Thats in Spaniſh An incorrigible rogue, without a fellow, An unmatchd rogue, he thinkes we underſtand not. So was my grandfather height Argozile. An arrant, arrant theefe leader, pray mocke it. My grandſire by the mothers ſide a Condee, Condee Scrivano. A crop-eard Scrivener. Whoſe ſon, my mothers father was a Marquis, Hio di puto. Thats the ſonne of a whore. And my renowned ſire Don Piccace. In proper ſence a raſcall—O brave Don. Huio di una pravado— A'goes on, Son of a branded bitch—high ſpirited Don, Had honors both by ſea and land, to wit. The Gallies and Bride-well. Ile not endure it, To heare a canting mungrell—Heare me lady, Tis no faire play. I care not faire or foule, I from a King derive my pedigree, King Oberon by name, from whom my father The mightie and couragious Mounti-banco, Was lineally deſcended, and my mother (In right of whoſe blood I muſt ever honor The lower Germany) was a Harlekine. He blow up The Spaniard preſently by his mother ſide. Her father was Grave Hansvan Herne, the ſon Of Hogen Mogen, dat de droates did ſneighen Of veirteen hundred Spaniards in one neict. Oh Diabolo. Ten thouſand Divels, nor Diabolos Shall fright me from my pedigree, my uncle Yacob van Flagon drought, with Abraham Snorten fert And yongſter Brogen foh with fourſcore hargubuſh, Manag'd by well-lin'd Butter-boxes, tooke A thouſand Spaniſh Iobber-nowles by ſurpriſe, And beat a ſconce about their eares. My furie Is now but juſtice on thy forfeit life. Lath they thall not fight. Feare not, ſweet Lady. Be adviſ▪d great ſpirits. My fortunes bid me to be wiſe in duels, Elſe hang't, who cares? Mine honour is my tutour, Already try'd and knowne. Why there's the poynt, Mine honour is my tutour too, Noble men Fight in their perſons, ſcorn't, tis out of faſhion, Theres none but hare-brain'd youths of metall uſe it.