Brome, Richard · published 1640 · first performed or written 1638 [1636-1638] (Annals) not in BritDrama · Salisbury Court T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy typicality 0.83 · 510 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
Yes, but of better metal: A jealous old man too, whose disposition Of injury to beauty, and young blood, Cannot but kindle fire of just revenge In you, if you be woman, to requite With your own pleasure his unnatural spite. You cannot be worse to him than he thinks you, Considering all the open scorns and jeers You cast upon him, to a flat defiance; Then the affronts I gave, to choke his anger: And lastly your stolen absence from his chamber: All which confirms (we have as good as told him) That he's a Cuckold, yet you trifle time, As 'twere not worth the doing. Are you a Lord? Dare you boast honour, and be so ignoble? Did not you warrant me upon that pawn (Which can take up no money) your blank honour, That you would cure his jealousy, which affects him Like a sharp sore, if I to ripen it Would set that counterfeit face of scorn upon him, Only in show of disobedience, which You won me to, upon your protestation, To render me unstained to his opinion, And quit me of his jealousy for ever. No: not unstained by your leave, if you call Unchastity a stain. But for his yellows, Let me but lie with you, and let him know it, His jealousy is gone, all doubts are cleared, And for his love and good opinion, He shall not dare deny't. Come; be wise, And this is all: all is as good as done To him already: let't be so with us; And trust to me, my power, and your own, To make all good with him— If not: Now mark, To be revenged for my lost hopes (which yet I pray thee save) I'll put thee in his hands, Now in his heat of fury; and not spare To boast thou art my Prostitute; and thrust ye Out of my gates, to try't out by yourselves. this you may do, and yet be still a Lord; This can I bear, and still be the same woman! I am not troubled now, your wooing oratory, Your violent hands (made stronger by your lust) Your tempting gifts, and larger promises Of honour and advancements were all frivolous; But this last way of threats, ridiculous, To a safe mind, that bears no guilty grudge: My peace dwells here, while yonder sits my judge. And in that faith i'll die. She is invincible! Come i'll relate you to your husband. No, I'll meet her with more joy than I received Upon our marriage-day. My better soul. Let me again embrace thee. Take your dudgeon Sir, I ha' done you simple service. O my Lord, My Lord, you have cured my jealousy, I thank you; And more, your man for the discovery; But most the constant means, my virtuous wife, Your medicine my sweet Lord. she has ta'en all I mean to give her sir Now sirrah, speak. I brought you to the stand from whence you saw How the game went. Oh my dear, dear Diana.
nodes 2765–2832 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 40 of 44 in this edition
Length
510 words · 658 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T23 — Husbands, wives and jealousycross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.832 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T26 · seed 44: T28 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Yes, but of better metall: A jealous old man too, whose disposition Of injury to beauty, and young blood, Cannot but kindle fire of just revenge In you, if you be woman, to requite With your owne pleasure his unnaturall spight. You cannot be worse to him than he thinkes you, Considering all the open scornes and jeeres You cast upon him, to a flat defiance; Then the affronts I gave, to choake his anger: And lastly your stolne absence from his chamber: All which confirmes (we have as good as told him) That he's a Cuckold, yet you trifle time, As 'twere not worth the doing. Are you a Lord? Dare you boast honor, and be so ignoble? Did not you warrant me upon that pawne (Which can take up no mony) your blanck honour, That you would cure his jealousie, which affects him Like a sharpe sore, if I to ripen it Would set that counterfeit face of scorne upon him, Onely in shew of disobedience, which You wonne me to, upon your protestation, To render me unstain'd to his opinion, And quit me of his jealousie for ever. No: not unstain'd by your leave, if you call Unchastity a staine. But for his yellows, Let me but lye with you, and let him know it, His jealousie is gone, all doubts are cleard, And for his love and good opinion, He shall not dare deny't. Come; be wise, And this is all: all is as good as done To him already: let't be so with us; And trust to me, my power, and your owne, To make all good with him—If not: Now marke, To be revengd for my lost hopes (which yet I pray thee save) Ile put thee in his hands, Now in his heat of fury; and not spare To boast thou art my Prostitute; and thrust yee Out of my gates, to try't out by your selves. this you may doe, and yet be still a Lord; This can I beare, and still be the same woman! I am not troubled now, your wooing oratory, Your violent hands (made stronger by your lust) Your tempting gifts, and larger promises Of honor and advancements were all frivolous; But this last way of threats, ridiculous, To a safe minde, that beares no guilty grudge: My peace dwells here, while yonder sits my judge. And in that faith ile dye. She is invincible! Come ile relate you to your husband. No, Ile meet her with more joy then I receiv'd Upon our marriage-day. My better soule. Let me againe embrace thee. Take your dudgeon Sir, I ha done you simple service. O my Lord, My Lord, you have cur'd my jealousie, I thanke you; And more, your man for the discovery; But most the constant meanes, my vertuous wife, Your medicine my sweet Lord. she has tane all I meane to give her sir Now sirrah, speake. I brought you to the stand from whence you saw How the game went. Oh my deare, deare Diana.