D., J. · published 1640 · first performed or written c.1625 [revised c.1632] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Fortune unassigned nearest T59 Spanish courts: war, honour and courtshi · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T59: andrea, spain, portugal, tribute, horatio, king, bellimperia, prince, lord, lorenzo.
Since you disdain my proffered courtesy, Together shelter your necessities; Take up your harbour with the hardy beast; These gates are locked to her and her relievers Henceforth I will forget her, Blot her name forth of the Bed roll Where my children stand, And vow I had none such: Hence, hence, thou scandal. Thus guilt less ones, suffer the guiltless blame, While they triumph in fraud, thus the strict Judge Condemns th'innocent for the thief's offence; Whilst partiality allows his wrong, And greatness makes it good; Will equity never take place again? Has trust left swaying here? that I but knew my crime: Or that Francisco but beheld my heart! Let mine eyes rain a river of salt drops, And my tears drown me, if any foul sin of mine, Deserve Francisco's hate: I had rather heaven had made me any thing, Then one so much unhappy, When ere thou bidest on the plenteous shore, Or labouring flood, Prosperity adhere to thy proceedings, And fame conclude thy deeds, For me despised, such be my fortune as my loyalty, And I request no more, My sweet, my sweet Francisco. Heaven do thee right. And if thou be'st not honest, There's neither pride nor cozenage in this City: If every conscience were well searched, And you did not find Some dainty fine conceited Rogue Has been tempering, Let me return to my Cradle, And be hanged in my swaddling clouts. THink you it so? Yes, and verily believe't. 'tis strangely carried. Mark the end, mark the end; Why do you sigh, Signior? Are you troubled with the Cramp? O, blame him not, he has good cause to sigh, Francisco set by him precious: How fare you, Signior? Never worse, my Friend's undone. ay, a mischief and a vengeance o'th' cause, by this sword, nay, fear not man, I am not angry, and I could not judge, well, I say no more: but if he did not walk on Stilts, I do detest eating and drinking, and those are two necessaries, a man can hardly live well without them. The very Paragon, mirror of the time. If I could not have wept when I beheld her, and that was more than I did at the death of my father, I have no belief in me. Who but she, the wonder of our age. No more words, mark the end, mark the end; I say, still mark the end. I must leave you. Not as the wench left the Frenchman in the suds, there's neither mettle nor society in thee; if thou abandonest my company, till we have visited Valentius. I wonder how he speeds? Did he not act the madman to the life, was't not well? could ever a Dunstical Doctor in this Town, have picked falsehood out of his behaviour: he was so mutable, so full of varying tricks (methinks) I see him yet.
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)
Since you diſdain my proffer'd courteſie, Together ſhelter your neceſſities; Take up your habour with the hardy beaſt; Theſe gates are lockt to her and her relievers Hence-forth I will forget her, Blot her name forth of the Bed roule Where my children ſtand, And vow I had none ſuch: Hence, hence, thou ſcandall. Thus guilt leſſe ones, ſuffer the guilties blame, While they triumph in fraude, thus the ſtrict Judge Condemnes th'innocent for the thieves offence; Whilſt partiality allows his wrong, And greatneſſe makes it good; Will equity never take place again? Has truſt left ſwaying here? that I but knew my crime: Or that Franciſco but beheld my heart! Let mine eyes rain a river of ſalt drops, And my tears drown me, if any foule ſin of mine, Deſerve Franciſcoes hate: I had rather heaven had made me any thing, Then one ſo much unhappy, When ere thou bideſt on the plenteous ſhore, Or labouring floud, Proſperity adhere to thy proceedings, And fame conclude thy deeds, For me deſpiſed, ſuch be my fortune as my loyalty, And I requeſt no more, My ſweet, my ſweet Franciſco. Heaven do thee right. And if thou beeſt not honeſt, There's neither pride nor coozenage in this Citie: If every conſcience were well ſearcht, And you did not finde Some dainty fine conceited Rogue Has been tempering, Let me return to my Cradle, And be hang'd in my ſwadling clouts. THink you it ſo? Yes, and verily believe't. Tis ſtrangly carried. Mark the end, marke the end; Why do you ſigh, Signior? Are you troubled with the Crampe? O, blame him not, he has good cauſe to ſigh, Franciſco ſet by him precious: How fare you, Signior? Never worſe, my Friend's undone. I, a miſchiefe and a vengeance oth' cauſe, by this ſword, nay, feare not man, I am not angry, and I could not judge, well, I ſay no more: but if hee did not walke on Stilts, I do deteſt eating and drinking, and thoſe are two neceſſaries, a man can hardly live well without them. The very Paragon, mirrour of the time. If I could not have wept when I beheld her, and that was more then I did at the death of my father, I have no beliefe in me. Who but ſhe, the wonder of our age. No more words, mark the end, marke the end; I ſay, ſtill mark the end. I muſt leave you. Not as the wench left the Frenchman in the ſuds, there's neither mettle nor ſociety in thee; if thou abandon'ſt my company, till we have viſited Valentius. I wonder how he ſpeeds? Did he not act the madman to the life, was't not wel? could ever a Dunſticall Doctor in this Towne, have pickt falſhood out of his behaviour: he was ſo mutable, ſo full of varying tricks (me thinks) I ſee him yet.