Glapthorne, Henry · published 1640 · first performed or written 1636 [licensed for stage, Mar 12] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · before the Court T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy typicality 0.85 · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
My husband and on the sudden, speak you to me sir. His mouth opened I'm sure, sir the Dutch Gentleman. O my son Sconce, come hither Urinal. This acknowledgement cannot Be serious from him, good Sir Martine Has your wild fancy not imposed enough, Temptations on my frailty that you come after So many strange indignities, again to delude me. 'tis misery of customary sinners when they mean A real truth, than their precedent ills, Deprive it credit, Madam not that night, That sacred night which spread its starry wings, (Like Curtains shadowing the Altar) o'er Our Hymeneal couch, could witness more Sincerity of indissolving love twixt us, Then does this minute, if your soul, (Which is so passive it may justly challenge A martyr's temper) can dispense with passed Absurd distastes, and like a Saint for humane Condition is too vengeful freely pardon What I amiss have acted. As you are my husband sir, and consequently my head. How many Ladies in town are of that mind. And aught to be the guider of my youth, I will not stand on that nice term of honour, With you whom duty ties me to observe With more than superficial care, t'enjoin A penance for your folly; the light smoke Finds not a surer burial in the a ire (To whose embraces with ambitious haste. On azure wings it soared) then has your guilt, In this forgiving bosom, this pure kiss seals the agreement. She offered first too, and methought she kissed As she would eat my lips, the ravenous touch Of her hot flesh has seared me up like grass In summer time, and her foul breath like blasts Of Southern winds, has quickened my dead fire Of jealousy, nay raised it to a greater Heat than my former. What ail you sir on the sudden? Viper, toad, out of my presence, ere my just waked Rage, get to its height, whence like a Falcon towering At full pitch o'er the trembling fowl, it will seize on thee. Madam 'tis best to leave him, I fear he's absolutely frantic; Urinal look to him, lest he act some violence on himself, please your Ladyship withdraw. Soft patience guard my heart: where's no offence, one safely may rely on innocence. Why sir Martine, how do you sir? not speak? now by my life, he looks like a staggerel newly come to his Horns, flings his head just in that manner they do not touch the ceiling, yet Sir Martine: in time they may be three and four at top, and serve to hang hats and cloaks on in the best knights hall in town. O Urinal. O Urinal, what a pitiful note was there, that very sound has almost cracked me to pieces: Sir Martine, good Sir Martine what ails you? or rather what ails your wife, that you hum and haw so after kissing her, her breath is savoury, I dare be sworn she has neither eaten Onions nor drunk Aquavitae.
before the Court;Phoenix/Cockpit;Indoor Professional
Genre (British Drama)
comedy
Play type
Boys Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 1148 · TCP A01773 · DEEP 980
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 1068–1115 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 25 of 40 in this edition
Length
500 words · 664 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T23 — Husbands, wives and jealousycross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.848 (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)
My husband and on the suddaine, speake you to me sir. His mouth opend Ime sure, sir the Dutch Gentleman. O my sonne Sconce, come hither Vrinall. This acknowledgement cannot Be serious from him, good Sir Martine Has your wilde fancy not impos'd enough, Temptations on my fraylty that you come after So many strange indignities, againe to delude me. Tis misery of customary sinners when they meane A reall truth, then their precedent ills, Deprive it credit, Madam not that night, That sacred night which spred its starry wings, (Like Curtaines shadowing the Altar) ore Our Hymeneall couch, could witnesse more Sincerity of indissolving love'twixt us, Then does this minute, if your soule, (Which is so passive it may justly challenge A Martyrs temper) can dispense with pas'd Absurd distastes, and like a Saint for humane Condition is too vengefull freely pardon What I amisse have acted. As you are my husband sir, and consequently my head. How many Ladies in towne are of that minde. And ought to be the guider of my youth, I will not stand on that nice terme of honour, With you whom duty ties me to observe With more then superficiall care, t'injoyne A penance for your folly; the light smoake Findes not a surer buriall in the a yre (To whose embraces with ambitious haste. On azure wings it soar'd) then has your guilt, In this forgiving bosome, this pure kisse seales the agreement. She offred first too, and me thought she kis'd As she would eate my lips, the ravenous touch Of her hot flesh has seard me up like grasse In summer time, and her fowle breath like blasts Of Southerne windes, has quickned my dead fire Of jealousie, nay rais'd it to a greater Heat then my former. What ayle you sir on the suddaine? Viper, toad, out of my presence, ere my just wak'd Rage, get to its height, whence like a Falcon towring At full pitch ore the trembling fowle, it will sease on thee. Madam tis best to leave him, I feare he's absolutly franticke; Vrinall looke to him, least he act some violence on himselfe, please your Ladiship withdraw. Soft patience guard my heart: wheres no offence, one safely may rely on innocence. Why sir Martine, how doe you sir? not speak? now by my life, hee lookes like a staggerell newly come to his Hornes, flings his head just in that manner they do not touch the seeling, yet Sir Martine: in time they may be three and foure at top, and serve to hang hats and cloakes on in the best knights hall in towne. O Vrinall. O Vrinall, what a pittifull noate was there, that very sound has almost crack'd me to pieces: Sir Martine, good Sir Martine what ayles you? or rather what ayles your wife, that you hum and haw so after kissing her▪ her breath is savory, I dare bee sworne shee has neither eaten Onions nor drunke Aquavitae.