Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1639 · first performed or written 1639 [c.1617-1639] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Anne's Men (?) unassigned nearest T16 Gallantry: ladies, lordships and complim · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T16: lady, madam, gentleman, lordship, ladies, honour, mistress, sweet, court, servant.
Use those words to her. They shall be used my Lord, and any thing That comes to using, let it come to me. What's he Zenarchus? Who Roxano? a fellow in great trust, Elected by my father's jealousy. But he, and all the rest attend upon her I think would turn her Panders for reward; For 'tis not watch nor ward keeps woman chaste, If honours watch in her mind be not placed. Right Oracle; what gain hath jealousy? Fruitless suspicion, sighs, ridiculous groans, Hunger and lust will break through flesh and stonēs: And like a whirlwind blows ope Castle doors. Italian padlocks, What mad Lords are your jealous people then, That locks their wives from all men but their men? Make them their keepers, to prevent some greater, So oft it happens to the poors relief, Keepers eat Venison when their Lords eat Beef. See, see, she comes. Honour of beauty? there man's wishes rise, Grace and perfection lighten from her eyes. Amazement is shot through me. 'tis Tymethes, Lady, Sonne to the banished King. Is this he? It is sweet Lady. I never knew the force of a desire Until this minute struck within my blood; I fear one look was destined to undo me. Why Tymethes? friend. Ha? A Courtier, and forget your first weapon? go and salute our Lady Mother. He makes towards us: y'are Prince Tymethes? so I understand. The same unfortunate, most gracious Lady, Supremest of your Sex in all perfections. Sir, y'are forgetful, this is no place for Courtship, Nor we a subject for't, return to your friend. All hopes killed in their blossom. Too cruelly in faith I put him by, Wine for our son Zenarchus, 'twas done kindly You son, and our best Visitant. Duty binds me. Begin to me Zenarchus, I'll have't so. Why then there's hope she'll take occasion To drink to me, she hath no means t' avoid it. I'll prevent all loose thoughts, drink to myself, My mind walks yonder, but suspect walks here. The devil's on that side and engrosses all, Smiles, favours, common courtesies, none can fall But he has a snatch at them; not drink to me? Make you yond stranger drink. Pox of't not I. I speak strange words against my fantasy. Prithee Tymethes drink. I am not dry. I think so too; dry, and so young, 'twere strange, Come prithee drink to the Queen, my mother. You shall rule me— unto that beauteous Majesty? Thanks noble sir; I must be wary, my mind's dangerous. I'll pledge you anon sir. Heart? how contempt ill fortune does pursue? Not drink, nor pledge, what was she borne to do? I'll stay no longer, lest I get that flame, Which nothing but cold death can quench or tame. Zenarchus, come. I go, music of mind to the Queen. To you no less. And all that you can wish, or I express.
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)
Vse those words to her. They shall be us'd my Lord, and any thing That comes to using, let it come to me. What's he Zenarchus? Who Roxano? a fellow in great trust, Elected by my fathers jealousie. But he, and all the rest attend upon her I thinke would turne hēr Panders for rēward; For tis not watch nor ward keepes woman chast, If honours watch in her mind be not plac't. Right Oracle; what gaine hath Iealousie? Fruitlesse suspition, sighes, ridiculous groanes, Hunger and lust will breake through flesh and stonēs: And like a whirle-winde blowes ope Castle dores. Italian padlockes, What mad Lords are your jealous people then, That lockes their wives from all men but their men? Make them their keepers, to prevent some greater, So oft it happens to the poores releefe, Keepers eate Venison when their Lords eate Beefe. See, see, she comes. Honour of beauty? there mans wishēs rise, Grace and perfection lighten from her eyes. Amazement is shot through me. Tis Tymethes, Lady, Sonnē to the banish'd King. Is this he? It is sweete Lady. I never knew the force of a desire Vntill this minute strucke within my blood; I feare one looke was destin'd to undoe me. Why Tymethes? friend. Ha? A Courtier, and forget your first weapon? goe and salute our Lady Mother. He makes towards us: y'are Prince Tymethes? so I understand. The same unfortunate, most gracious Lady, Supreamest of your Sexe in all perfections. Sir, y'are forgetfull, this is no place for Courtship, Nor we a subject for't, returne to your friend. All hopes kild in their blossome. Too cruelly in faith I put him by, Wine for our sonne Zenarchus, twas done kindly You sonne, and our best Visitant. Duty bindes me. Begin to me Zenarchus, Ile have't so. Why then there's hope shele take occasion To drinke to me, she hath no meanes t' avoyd it. Ile prevent all loose thoughts, drinke to my selfe, My minde walkes yonder, but suspect walkes here. The divell's on that side and engrosses all, Smiles, favours, common curtesies, none can fall But he has a snatch at them; not drinke to me? Make you yon stranger drinke. Pox of't not I. I speake strange words against my fantasie. Prithee Tymethes drinke. I am not dry. I thinke so too; dry, and so young, 'twere strange, Come prithee drinke to the Queene, my mother. You shall rule me— unto that beauteous Majesty? Thanks noble sir; I must be wary, my mind's dangerous. Ile pledge you anon sir. Hart? how contempt ill fortune does pursue? Not drinke, nor pledge, what was she borne to doe? Ile stay no longer, least I get that flame, Which nothing but cold death can quench or tame. Zenarchus, come. I goe, musick of minde to the Queene. To you no lesse. And all that you can wish, or I expresse.