Rawlins, Thomas · published 1640 · first performed or written 1638 [1637-1639] (Annals) tragedy · King's Revels Company unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
Lady we here enjoin you to Your Chamber as a prisoner, to Wait a further censure; your brother's Fault has pulled a punishment upon your head, Which you must suffer. ' e'en what you please, your tyranny can't bear A shape so bad to make Evadne fear: Strong innocence shall guard my afflicted soul, Whose constancy shall tyranny control. A troop of Tailors by force have ta'en Antonio from us, and have borne him (spite Of the best resistance we could make) unto some Secret place, we can not find him. Screech owl dost know what thou hast said? Death, find him or you die: O my cross stars, He must not live to torture our next sense, But die; though he had no fault but innocence. Can this kindness merit your love? Do I deserve your sister? My sister! worthy Tailor; 'tis a gift lies not in me to give: ask something else, 'tis thine, although it be gained with the quite extinguishing of this; this breath you gave me. Have not I— Speak no further, I confess you have been all unto me, life, and being; I breathe but with your licence: will no price buy out your interest in me, but her love? I tell thee Tailor, I have blood runs in me, Spain cannot match for greatness, next her Kings. Yet to requite thy love I'll call thee friend, be thou Antonio's friend; a favour nobles have thirsted for: will this requite thee? Sir this may, but— My sister thou wouldst say most worthy Tailor, she is not mine to give; honour spoke in my dying Father, 'tis a sentence that's Registered here, in Antonio's heart, I must not wed her, but to one in blood calls honour Father: Prithee be my friend, forget I have a sister; in love I'll be more than a brother; tho' not to mingle blood. May I not call her mistress? As a servant, far from the thoughts of Wedlock. I'm yours, friend I am proud on't; you shall find, That though a Tailor, I'ave an honest mind. Pray Master help my Lord unto a Suit, his life Lies at your mercy. I'll warrant you. But for thy men. O they are proud in that they rescued you, And my blood of honour; since you are pleased To grace the now declining Trade of Tailors, By being shrouded in their homely clothes, And deck a Shopboard with your noble person; The taunting scorns, the foul mouthed World, can throw upon our needful Calling Shall be answered: They injure honour, since your honour is a Noble practitioner in our Mystery. Cheer up Antonio, take him in, The rest will make him merry; I'll go try The temper of a sword upon some Shield That guards a foe. Pray for my good success. Come, come my Lord leave melancholy To hired slaves, that murder at a price: Yours was— No more, flatter not my sin. You are too strict a convertite, let's in.
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)
Lady we here enjoyne you to Your Chamber as a prisoner, to Waite a further censure; your brothers Fault has pul'd a punishment upon your head, Which you must suffer. 'Ene what you please, your tyranny can't beare A shape so bad to make Evadne feare: Strong innocence shall guard my afflicted soule, Whose constancy shall tyranny controule. A troope of Taylers by force have tane Antonio from us, and have borne him (spight Of the best resistance we could make) unto some Secret place, we can not finde him. Screech owle dost know what thou hast said? Death, finde him or you dye: O my crosse starres, He must not live to torture our next sence, But dye; though he had no fault but innocence. Can this kindnesse merit your love? Doe I deserve your sister? My sister! worthy Tayler; 'tis a gift lyes not in me to give: aske something else, 'tis thine, although it bee gain'd with the quite extinguishing of this; this breath you gave mee. Have not I— Speake no further, I confesse you have bin all unto me, life, and being; I breath but with your licence: will no price buy out your interest in me, but her love? I tell thee Tayler, I have blood runs in mee, Spaine cannot match for greatnesse, next her Kings. Yet to requite thy love Ile call thee friend, be thou Antonio's friend; a favour nobles have thirsted for: will this requite thee? Sir this may, but— My sister thou wouldst say most worthy Tayler, shee is not mine to give; honour spake in my dying Father, 'tis a sentence that's Registred here, in Antonio's heart, I must not wed her, but to one in blood calls honour Father: Prethee be my friend, forget I have a sister; in love Ile bee more than a brother; tho' not to mingle blood. May I not call her mistresse? As a servant, far from the thoughts of Wedlocke. I'me yours, friend I am proud on't; you shall finde, That though a Tayler, I'ave an honest mind. Pray Master helpe my Lord unto a Suite, his life Lyes at your mercy. Ile warrant you. But for thy men. O they are proud in that they rescued you, And my blood of honour; since you are pleas'd To grace the now declining Trade of Taylers, By being shrouded in their homely cloaths, And decke a Shop-board with your noble person; The taunting scornes, the foule mouth'd World, can throw upon our needfull Calling Shall be answered: They injure honour, since your honour is a Noble practitioner in our Mistery. Cheere up Antonio, take him in, The rest will make him merry; Ile goe try The temper of a sword upon some Shield That guards a foe. Pray for my good successe. Come, come my Lord leave melancholy To hired slaves, that murther at a price: Yours was— No more, flatter not my sin. You are too strikt a convertite, let's in.