Shirley, James · published 1640 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, May 17] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
What an Iron impudence rules in thy Nature? thou seemest to boast of crimes the devil Would in modesty conceal. How Madam? Canst thou expect kindness from a Lady, That art so cruel to thy own: a soul So much i'th' tongue of fame, as is Carintha: You are one o'th' religious faction, Whose care merely did reflect upon the General good; the safety of your Country, I'll not publish thy disgrace: kneel old man? And thank the privilege of this great day; Thou hast thy pardon. horrid torture, foiled in my hopes, and made An argument for popular scorn, I fear My own shadow, my horns are grown so ugly. Orseollo. She knows him a woman hater, his fate Cannot hinder me. How thrives your charity toward our sex, What think you of a woman now my Lord? A woman is the pride of nature: her Husbands best Gaurius, made to credit Heaven, to justify the first creation good: She is the destiny of time, her womb Contains the hope of our succession, The power to add new life unto the world. Stay signior, this is a kin to flattery, Do you appear at this our summons, with Hope to gain by it: you that have professed yourself a natural enemy to all our sex? Madam I recanted that heresy, Giotto is my witness: there are creatures— he'll tell me all I need not tempt it from him, Bold monsieur, I've heard of your Goat tricks Of your seraglio, and your Concubines; Dare you be so much a Traitor, to think I'd marry with a public stallion, A Town Bull. Your Highness— No more? for the honour of this day I do Conceal your faults and pardon 'em. Giotto, I shall prick your veins. Volterre. What means these several parleys? I am to give you thanks (my Lord) for your Great care o'th' public weal. You did implore My haste to marriage, merely for your country's good, you yourself not guilty of, Any hope to profit by it. Your excellence does me too much right. And can your nature suffer you to do Me wrong: you under value me, my birth And title, for else a little foreign Vanity, show in corrupted mixture Of unknowne tongues; would not incourage thēē T'attempt our person, and so become our equal. Your highness will hold me in excuse. Yes you've more deserved our mercy then The rest— walk aside. Comachio! hay, I begin to prosper! You are your country's father, chief of those Whose zealous interest i'th' common wealth, Urged to entreat my first endeavours, To help posterity with issue; yet Prescribed yourself no share i'th' benefit: Fie my Lord! how sinful has ambition Made you? 'tis strange, that he, whom we have held Our Oracle, should conspire the death of One so harmless as your Nephew. My gracious Mistress: We know all; but in hope you'll not malign Our next election, you taste our mercy.
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)
What an Iron impudence rules in thy Nature? thou seemest to boast of crimes the devill Would in modesty conceale. How Madam? Canst thou expect kindnesse from a Lady, That art so cruell to thy owne: a soule So much ith' tongue of fame, as is Carintha: You are one oth' religious faction, Whose care meerely did reflect upon the Generall good; the safety of your Country, Ile not publish thy disgrace: kneele old man? And thanke the priviledge of this great day; Thou hast thy pardon. Horred torture, foyl'd in my hopes, and made An argument for popular scorne, I feare My owne shadow, my hornes are growne so ugly. Orseollo. She knowes him a woman hater, his fate Cannot hinder me. How thrives your charity toward our sex, What thinke you of a woman now my Lord? A woman is the pride of nature: her Husbands best Gaurius, made to credit Heaven, to justifie the first creation good: She is the destiny of time, her wombe Containes the hope of our succession, The power to adde new life unto the world. Stay signiour, this is a kin to flattery, Doe you appeare at this our summons, with Hope to gaine by it: you that have professed Your selfe a naturall enemy to all our sex? Madam I recanted that heresie, Giotto is my witnesse: there are creatures— Heele tell me all I neede not tempt it from him, Bold Mounsier, I've heard of your Goattish trickes Of your Seragho, and your Concubines; Dare you be so much a Traitor, to thinke I'ld marry with a publicke stallious, A Towne Bull. Your Highnesse— No more? for the honour of this day I doe Conceale your faults and pardon em. Giotto, I shall pricke your veines. Volterre. What meanes these severall parlies? I am to give you thankes (my Lord) for your Great care oth' publicke weale. You did implore My haste to marriage, meerely for your Countries good, you your selfe not guilty of, Any hope to profit by it. Your excellence does me too much right. And can your nature suffer you to doe Me wrong: you under value me, my birth And title, for else a little forraigne Vanity, shew in corrupted mixture Of unknowne tongues; would not incourage thēē T'attempt our person, and so become our equall. Your highnesse will hold me in excuse. Yes y'ave more deserved our mercy thēn The rest—walke aside. Comachio▪ Hey, I begin to prosper! You are your Countries fathēr, chiefe of those Whose zealous interrest ith' common wealth, Vrg'd to intreate my first indeavours, To helpe posterity with issue; yet Prescribed your selfe no share ith' benefit: Fye my Lord! how sinnefull has ambition Made you? tis strange, that he, whom we have held Our Oracle, should conspire the death of One so harmelesse as your Nephew. My gracious Mistresse: We know all; but in hope you'le not maligne Our next election, you taste our mercy.