Shirley, James · published 1640 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, May 17] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.74 · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
They ha' not juggled you methinks. Volterre and Orseollo, morrow to ye, You hear the news. Foscari is departed. In a mist, is he not? here's but we three, The Duchess is a strange woman. Contarini hast any other faith, Are they not all so Volterre? Thou hast been a traveller, and conversed with the Antipodes, almost put a girdle about the world, taken dimensions Of every nature, tasted all airs, and canst Distinguish 'em to an atom, tell me signior And be not partial to the Sex, didst ever Upon thy honour meet with such a creature, We here call virtuous woman, are not all The stock of 'em inconstant? Nay let's ha' No more invectives signior Orseollo Traduce not all for some, it must be granted. They are an excellent creation, though Some few decline from virtue, I've a wife, I'm but new married neither, yet I dare Boast my opinion. Do not, the Moon Is yet but i'th' first quarter Contarini, I would endear my thoughts to thee, and thou Wert not married, boast thy opinion. Go sacrifice to sleep, why these are women Will cozen a strong faith, cuckold their husbands, Yet taken in the act persuade 'em into A belief they do but dream so. signior You're pleasant. Pleasant As his gall will suffer him, He has been casting out up this half hour, Yet there is some behind still, if you name A woman, he takes fire like touchwood, but To the Duke Foscari. I have it, What? Ye talk We do. I ha' the cause hen went away so soon. Prithee every our knowledge, why? I honour him. So we do all. He is a brave Duke, a man, And in that, more than all his titles make him, Some easy natures would ha' languished for her, And ha' been paler than ye mean, with watching Distilled their brain, tired, yea some to seem commit Idolatry, given her their souls, And changed 'em to her motion; in each window Bescratching with some Diamond her name, And warm it so with kisses till it thaw The very glass, which weeps itself away In pity of the dotage, been content To ha' worn their youth away in expectation; This Prince was wiser, he left Parma to Behold a creature was cried up, the miracle Of nature, a new star like Cassiopeia That drew the eyes of Italy, and left 'em Fixed in the admiration, but he needing No Iacobs staff to take the height, and looking With a true eye upon this wonder, found She was a woman, nothing but a woman, His wisdom quickly taught him to return A shamed of his credulity. He's mad, What a wild passion like a torrent, bears him Against the women, 'tis well your hate Points at the general, one woman's anger Would check your forward— else Contarini. I dare not hear him talk more, we shall be Held cherishers of his railing humour, in, in, Prithee let's leave him.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
They ha not juggled you me thinkes. Volterre and Orseollo, morrow to ye, You heare the newes. Foscari is departed. In a mist, is he not? here's but we three, The Dutchesse is a strange woman. Contarini hast any other faith, Are they not all so Volterre? Thou hast beene a travailer, and converst with the Antipodes, almost put a girdle about the world, taken dimensions Of every nature, tasted all aires, and canst Distinguish em to an atome, tell me Signiour And be not partiall to the Sex, didst ever Vpon thy honour meete with such a creature, We here call vertuous woman, are not all The stocke of em inconstant? Nay let's ha No morē invēctives Signiour Orseollo Traduce not all for some, it must be granted. They are an excellent creation, though Some few decline from vertue, I've a wife, I'm but new married neither, yet I dare Boast my opinion. Doe not, the Moone Is yet but ith' first quarter Contarini, I would endeere my thoughts to thee, and thou Wert not marryed, boast thy opinion. Goe sacrifice to sleepe, why these are womēn Will cosen a strong faith, cuckold their husbands, Yet taken in the act perswade em into A beleefe they doe but dreame so. Signiour Y'are pleasant. Pleasant As his gall will suffer him, He has beene casting out up this halfe hourē, Yet there is some behind still, if you name A woman, he takes fire like touchwood, but To the Duke Foscari. I have it, What? Ye talke We doe. I ha the cause hē went away so soone. Prethee enrich our knowledge, why? I honour him. So we doe all. He is a brave Duke, a man, And in that, more then all his titles make him, Some easie natures would ha languished for her, And ha beene paler then ye meane, with watching Distilled their braine, tyred, yea some to seeme Comit Idolatry, given her their soules, And changed em to her motion; in each window Bescratching with some Diamond her name, And warme it so with kisses till it thaw The very glasse, which weepes it selfe away In pitty of the dotage, beene content To ha worne their youth away in expectation; This Prince was wiser, he left Parma to Behold a creaturē was cride up, the miracle Of nature, a new starre like Cassiopeia That drew the eyes of Italy, and left em Fixt in the admiration, but he needing No Iacobs staffe to take the height, and looking With a true eye upon this wounder, found She was a woman, nothing but a woman, His wisdome quickely taught him to returne A sham'd of his credulity. He's mad, What a wild passion like a torrent, beares him Against the women, 'tis well your hate Points at the gēnerall, one womans anger Would checke your forward—else Contarini. I darē not hēare him talke morē, wē shall be Held cherishers of his railing humour, in, in, Prethee lets leave him.