Richards, Nathaniel · published 1640 · first performed or written 1635 [1634-1636] (Annals) tragedy · King's Revels Company T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.70 · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
But not in her. There is no trust to such uncertainty, 'twere deadly Stibium to our vital blood, Like that dire poison that's resistative 'Gainst the most wholesome Antidotes of life. Weak minds of men they are, fit to be fooled, Slighted, add scorned, whose dull ignorance Knows not that women in their height of ill, Who bars them their delight, delight to kill. What will Valeria, Messallina, the Empress then; think you she will be slow, Whose hot Alarms in the very Act Within the circuit of a day and night Endured the test of five and twenty, came Off unwearied: A deed to quake the hearts Of virtuous Dames, think you she will be barred Dissuaded from the love of Silius, no, We cannot therefore (knowing that credit and Authority is far more safely for To be maintained with circumspect, then with Rash counsel) cannot I say be too too Wary, lest by any notice taken She take lest knowledge of our discontent Whose rugged thoughts unseen, must be smoothed o'er And with a pleasing veil, appear in show To like, and give full approbation Of the approbrious marriage, so to Secure us from suspect and peril, Undoubted death. I fully apprehend, That so Rome's Siren in the height of pride; Silius and all the factious Complices Through wicked wedlock's jollity made drunk Drunk with the dregs of blind security. Then, than my pioning policies aloft (Of which my brain detains the Theoric) Shall apt a Time for vengeance unwithstood The thirst of their Ambition quench in blood. Till when sleep on, sleep on ye fools of fate, " Plots best-encounter plots, free from suspect, Fly like the bolts of jove, firm in effect. Blessed be that sacred power which restored My senses lost, and in that perfect being Gives me the noble patience for to see, And suffers not mine eyeballs to drop out At sight of this my daughter's impudence, Shame that attends this wicked Nuptial Rites Now in the name of goodness, what means this Whispering? what new mischief lies hatching In yonder bloody villains busy brain? In the discovery, counterfeit sleep, And madness be my mask. At the Bachanalian feast which now Draws nigh, than a rich stirring Mask will best Express itself in greatest glory; the Tunes for song I'll take that charge on me. For changes in each dance my brain shall work. What says Menester, he that has borne the Prize; leapt Madam Venus in her height of pride For graceful action and sweet Poesy. Now, Does he claw like a decayed Tradesman▪ when To maintain the wagging of his chaps His wives venereal Firkin must to Sale. Why? did you ne'er hear of a fellow, that By the scratching of his nimble pate, Worked your best pleasing project for a mask, Was well rewarded for't, when such as you For pains in song and dances laughed to scorn Poor simple sots▪ their payment was the horn. O nimble Satirical vein.
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
But not in her. There is no trust to such uncertaintie, T'were deadly Stibium to our vitall blood, Like that dire poyson thats resistative 'Gainst the most wholesome Antidotes of life. Weake mindes of men they are, fit to be fool'd, Slighted, add scorn'd, whose dull ignorance Knowes not that women in their height of ill, Who barres them their delight, delight to kill. What will Valeria, Messallina, the Emp'resse then; hinke you she will be slow, Whose hot Alarums in the very Act Within the circuit of a day and night Indur'd the test of five and twentie, came Off unwearied: A deede to quake the hearts Of vertuous Dames, thinke you she will be bar'd Diswaded from the love of Silius, no, We cannot therefore (knowing that credit and Authority is farre more safely for To be maintain'd with circumspect, then with Rash counsell) cannot I say be too too Wary, least by any notice taken She take least knowledge of our discontent Whose rugged thoughts unseene, must be smooth'd ore And with a pleasing vaile, appeare in shew To like, and give full approbation Of the approbrious marriage, so to Secure us from suspect and perill, Vndoubted death. I fully apprehend, That so Roes Syren in the height of pride; Silius and all the factious Complices Through wicked wedlocks jollitie made drunke Drunke with the dregges of blinde securitie. Then, then my pyoning pollicies aloft (Of which my braine deteines the Theorick) Shall apt a Time for vengeance unwithstood The thirst of their Ambition qunche in blood. Till when sleepe on, sleepe on ye fooles of fate, "Plots best-encounter plots, free from suspect, "Fly like the bolts of jove, firme in effect. Blest be that sacred power which restor'd My senses lost, and in that perfect being Gives me the noble patience for to see, And suffers not mine eye-balls to drop out At sight of this my daughters impudence, Shame that attends this wicked Nuptiall Rites Now in the name of goodnesse, what meanes this Whispering? what new mischiefe lies hatching In yonder bloudy villaines busie braine? In the discovery, counterfit sleepe, And madnesse be my Moske. At the Bachanalian feast which now Drawes nigh, then a rich stirring Maske will best Expresse it selfe in greatest glory; the Tunes for song I'le take that charge on me. For changes in each dance my braine shall worke. What sayes Menester, he that has borne the Prize; leapt Madam Venus in her height of pride For gracefull action and sweet Poesie. Now, Does he claw like a decay'd Tradesman▪ when To maintaine the wagging of his chappes His wives Veneriall Firk-in must to Sale. Why? did you ne're heare of a fellow, that By the scratching of his nimble pate, Workt your best pleasing project for a maske, Was well rewarded for't, when such as you For paines in song and dances laught to scorne Poore simple sots▪ their payment was the horne. O nimble Satyricall veine.