Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1624 [1624-1625] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T16 Gallantry: ladies, lordships and complim · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T16: lady, madam, gentleman, lordship, ladies, honour, mistress, sweet, court, servant.
View her well brave Beaufort, But yet at distance, you hereafter may Make your approaches nearer, when the priest Hath made it lawful, and were not she mine, I durst aloud proclaim it. Hymen never Put on his saffron coloured robe to change A barren virgin name with more good omens, Then at her nuptials, look on her again, Then tell me if she now appear the same That she was yesterday. Being herself She cannot but be excellent, these rich And curious dressings, which in others might Cover deformities, from her take lustre Nor can add to her. You conceive her right, And in your admiration of her sweetness, You only can deserve her; blush not girl, Thou art above his praise, or mine, nor can Obsequious flattery though she should use Her thousand oyld tongues to advance thy worth, Give aught (for that's impossible) but take from Thy more than humane graces, and even then When she hath spent herself with her best strength, The wrong she has done thee shall be so apparent, That losing her own servile shape and name, She will be thought detraction, but I Forget myself, and something whispers to me, I have said too much. I know not what to think on't, But there's some mystery in it, which I fear Will be too soon discovered. I much wrong Your patience noble Sir, by too much hugging My proper issue, and like the foolish crow Believe my blacke brood sw. There needs not Sir The least excuse for this, nay I must have Your arm, you being the master of the feast, And this the mistress. I am anything That you shall please to make me. Nay 'tis yours Without more compliment. Your will's a law sir. Would I had been borne a Lord Or I a Lady. It may be you were both be got in court, Though bred up in the City, for your mothers, As I have heard loved the lobby, and there nightly Are seen strange apparitions, and who knows But that some noble fawn, heated with wine, And cloyed with partridge, had a kind of longing To trade in sprats? this needs no exposition, But can you yield a reason for your wishes? Why had I been borne a Lord, I had been no servant. And where as now necessity makes us waiters, We had been attended on. And might have slept then, As long as we pleased, and fed when we had stomachs, And worn new clothes, nor lived as now in hope Of a cast gown, or petticoat. You are fools, And ignorant of your happiness, ere I was Sworn to the pantofle, I have heard my tutor Prove it by logic, that a servant's life Was better than his masters, and by that I learn from him, if that my memory fall not, I'll make it good.
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)
View her well brave Beaufort, But yet at distance, you hereafter may Make your approaches neerer, when the priest Hath made it lawfull, and were not shee mine, I durst alowd proclaime it. Hymen never Put on his son coloured robe to change A barren virgin name with more good omen, Then at her nupialls, looke on her againe, Then tell me if she now appeare the That she was yesterday. Being her selfe She cannot but be excellent, these rich And curious dressing, which in others might Cover deformities, from her take lustre Nor can adde to her. You conceive her right, And in your admiration of her sweetnesse, You only can deserve her; blush not girle, Thou art above his praise, or mine, nor can Obsequiou flery though she should use Her thousand oyldtongues to advance thy worth, Give ought (for thats impossible) but take from Thy more then humane graces, and even then When shee hath spent her selfe with her best strength, The wrong she has done thee shall be so apparent, That loosing her owne servile shape and name, She will be thought detraction, but I Forget my selfe, and something whispers to me, I have said too much. I know not what to thinke on't, But there's some mystery in it, which I feare Will be too soone discover'd. I much wrong Your patience noble Sir, by too much hugging My proper issue, and like the foolish crow Believe my blacke brood sw. There needes not Sir The least excuse for this, nay I must have Your arme, you being the master of the feast, And this the mistris. I am anything That you shall please to make mee. Nay tis yours Without more complement. Your will's a law ir. Would I had beene borne a Lord Or I a Lady. It may be you both be got in court, Though bred up in the Citie, for your mothers, As I have heard lov'd the lobbie, and there nightly Are seen strange apparitions, and who knowes But that some noble fawne, heated with wine, And cloyde with partridge, had a kinde of longing To trade in sprats? this needs no exposition, But can you yeeld a reason for your wishes? Why had I beene borne a Lord, I had beene no servant. And where as now necessity makes us wayters, We had been attended on. And might have slept then, As long as we pleas'd, and fed when we had stomackes, And worne new cloths, nor liv'd as now in hope Of a cast gowne, or petticote. You are fooles, And ignorant of your happinesse, ere I was Sworne to the pantofle, I have heard my tutor Prove it by logicke, that a servants life Was better then his masters, and by that I learne from him, if that my memory falle not, I'll make it good.