Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1639 · first performed or written 1639 [c.1617-1639] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Anne's Men (?) T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti typicality 0.84 · 512 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
Thanks to our son, Th' other took leave in silence, but left me To speak enough both for myself and thee. Tymethes? that's his name, poor heart take heed, Look well into th' event ere thou proceed: Love, yet be wise; impossible, none can; If ere the wise man claim one foolish hour 'tis when he loves; he's then in folly's power. I need not fear the servants that o'erwatch men Their faiths lie in my Coffers, in effect, More true to me then to my Lords suspect. The fears and dangers that most threaten me, Live in the party that I must enjoy, And that's Tymethes; men are apt to boast; He may in full cups blaze and vaunt himself Unto some meaner Mistress; make my shame The politic Engine to beat down her name, And from thence force a way to the king's ears, Strange fate; where my love keeps, there keep my fearēs. Alone? why where's her guard? suffer her alone? Her thoughts may work, their powers are not her own. Women have of themselves no entire sway, Like Dial needles they wave every way, And must be throughly taught to be kept right, And point to none but to their Lords delight. Time to convey and plot? leave her alone! Why Villains— kiss me, my perfection, This night we'll banquet in these blissful arms. Your nights are music, and your words are charms. Kiss me again fair Tethis. My Lady is scarce perfect in her thoughts howe'er she framed a smile upon the Tyrant. I have some skill in faces, & yet they never were more deceitful; A man can scarce know a bawd from a Midwife by the face; An hypocritical Puritan from a devout Christian If you go by the face; well all's not straight in my Lady. She hath certain crooked cogitations if a man had the liberty to search 'em: If ought point at my advice or performance, she may fortunately Disclose it: she knows my mettle, and what it yields to an ounce, She cannot be deceived in't: here's service, and secrecy, and no Lady can Wish more, beside a Monkey; she is assured of our faculties, there's none Of us all that stand her smock sentinels, but would venture a joint To do her any pleasurable service, and I think that's as much As any woman desires— mass here she comes. 'tis so me strange Physic I know by the working. It cannot be kept down with any Argument, 'tis of aspiring force; sparks fly not downward, No more this received fancy of Tymethes, I threaten it with my Lord's jealousy, Yet still it rises against all objections; I see my dangers, in what fears I dwell There's but a Plank on which I run to hell, Yet were't thrice narrower I should venture on, None dares do more for sin than woman can. Misery of love— Roxano? I am observed, What news Roxano? None that's good, Madam. No? which is the bad! The worst of all is, Madam, you are sad.
seed 43: T31 · seed 44: T44 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Thankes to our sonne, Th' other tooke leave in silence, but left me To speake enough both for my selfe and thee. Tymethes? that's his name, poore heart take heede, Looke well into th' event ere thou proceede: Love, yet be wise; impossible, none can; If ere the wise man claime one foolish houre Tis when he loves; he's then in follies power. I neede not feare the servants that ore-watch mē Their faiths lye in my Coffers, in effect, More true to me then to my Lords suspect. The feares and dangers that most threaten me, Live in the party that I must enjoy, And that's Tymethes; men are apt to boast; He may in full cups blaze and vaunt himselfe Vnto some meaner Mistresse; make my shame The politique Engine to beate downe her name, And from thence force a way to the Kings eares, Strange fate; where my love keepes, there keepe my fearēs. Alone? why where's her guard? suffer her alone? Her thoughts may worke, their powers are not her owne. Women have of themselves no entire sway, Like Dyall needles they wave every way, And must be throughly taught to be kept right, And point to none but to their Lords delight. Time to convey and plot? leave her alone! Why Villaines — kisse me, my perfection, This night we'le banquet in these blissefull armēs. Your nights are musick, and your words are charmes. Kisse me againe faire Tethis. My Lady is scarce perfect in her thoughts How ere she fram'd a smile upon the Tyrant. I have some skill in faces, & yet they never were more deceitfull; A man can scarce know a Baud from a Midwife by the face; An hypocriticall Puritan from a devout Christian If you goe by the face; well all's not streight in my Lady. She hath certaine crooked cogitations if a man had the liberty to search 'em: If ought point at my advice or performance, shee may fortunately Disclose it: she knowes my mettle, and what it yeelds to an ounce, She cannot be deceiv'd in't: here's service, and secrēcie, and no Lady can Wish more, beside a Monkey; she is assur'd of our faculties, there's none Of us all that stand her smocke Centinells, but would venter a joynt To doe her any pleasurable service, and I think thats as much As any woman desires — masse here she comes. Tis so me strange Physicke I know by the working. It cannot be kept downe with any Argument, Tis of aspiring force; sparkes flye not downeward, No more this receiv'd fancy of Tymethes, I threaten it with my Lords Iealousy, Yet still it rises against all objections; I see my dangers, in what feares I dwell There's but a Plankē on which I runne to hell, Yet were't thrice narrower I should venture on, None dares doe more for sinne than woman can. Misery of love — Roxano? I am observ'd, What newes Roxano? None that's good, Madam. No? which is the bad! The worst of all is, Madam, you are sad.