Sicily and Naples, or The Fatal Union · chunk 8 of 38
Harding, Samuel · published 1640 · first performed or written 1640 (Annals) not in BritDrama unassigned nearest T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour · 535 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
He's casting the Princess's water. Not upon his beard I hope. Reading in't— The colour of's coppernose. All the plots of Sicily; I warrant the poor Lady has not a thought escapes him. The Sex has been always accounted open, yet I ne'er knew a State betrayed that way; some Ladies would be in a pitiful case, if their secrets could be read in their Gentlewoman's— Foh, they're mere sives. Come, come, these are his Lordship's Lodgings, He came home late yesternight, and I believe Is scarce stirring yet.— Your last new tune, This music sure will make him dance antic. Not yet? pox on him, he's asleep in's study: ha' you no loud music? perhaps his Lordship likes that better. So, ho, oh, ho, ho, murder, murder, murder, Enter Hieronymo from his naked bed. Hieronymo was drunk then last night, he lay in's clothes. rogue's base rogues, scabby rogues, pocky rogues, out, our rascals, abuse his Majesty's Physician, offer to play under my nose, foh, how the rogue's stink: farts, poisoned farts, foh, these meager-chapped rascals eat so much brimstone, and salt butter, that they outstink hell: had these farts been let in Wales, they would have bred the plague there,— let me see— who should this be. that should abuse me thus, let me but find him out, and be he the best i'th' Court, it shall go hard but I'll have a quaint poison for him, shall work a little otherwise with him than this has done with me. The best i'th' Court? A quaint poison for him. does your retiredness lead you to treason? let's apprehend him: For a Traitor. Nay good Gentlemen, what shall I do? I'm undone. A quaint poison!— so it was. And for the best i'th' Court. In troth, signiors, I meant it not. 'Twas too much you said it, Sir. Do but conceal me.— Then you'll confess, and bring us in as parties. May I be hanged if I do; besides, whatever secret disease you have about you, I'll cure you gratis. And think no more of poisoning them, that brought the musicians to your window; 'twas our plot Sir. I forgive you, and pray Gentlemen use me for your Physician whenever the state of your bodies requires it. I'll learn secrecy of you. Agreed. Faith Grutty, this plot was well thought on; I could find in my heart to trust him. You may; and hence forward I'll sin with less scruple. 'Tis he— I am confirmed: Frederico, Albert's Son— I'll let him live concealed, he's a sure Instrument, and will serve me for all turns. humph,— could he think his puling sisters, Or his Fathers, wrongs, sat so heavy on my heartstrings, That I could be moved to kill my Prince In their revenge? Indeed I loved her once, Till I enjoyed her, but she's lost, so is her memory; I've higher thoughts now; Charintha is my aim, Ferrando's niece; next heir to the Crown; Mine by his promise: can I but divorce Valenzo from her love, together with His life, I'm safe; 'tis that I am contriving: He is my rival both in a Mistress, and A PRINCE's favour.— Who waits within there? ho.
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)
He's caſting the Princeſſe's water. Not upon his beard I hope. Reading in't— The colour of's copper-noſe. All the plots of Sicily; I warrant the poore Lady has not a thought eſcapes him. The Sex has beene allwayes accounted open, yet I neere knew a State betray'd that way; ſome Ladies would be in a pittifull caſe, if their ſecrets could be read in their Gentlewomans— Foh, they're mere ſives. —Come, come, theſe are his Lordſhips Lodgings, He came home late yeſternight, and I beleeve Is ſcarce ſtirring yet. — Your laſt new tune, This muſicke ſure will make him dance antick. Not yet? poxe on him, he's a ſleepe in's ſtudie: ha you noe loud muſicke? perhaps his Lordſhip likes that better. So, ho, oh, ho, ho, murder, murder, murder, Enter Hieronymo from his naked bed. Hieronymo was drunke then laſt night, he lay in's clothes. Rogues baſe rogues, ſcabby rogues, pockie rogues, out, our raſcals, abuſe his Majeſties Phyſitian, offer to play under my noſe, foh, how the rogues ſtinke: farts, poyſon'd farts, foh, theſe meager-chapt raſcalls eate ſo much brimſtone, and ſalt butter, that they outſtinke hell: had theſe farts beene let in Wales, they would have bred the plague there, — let mee ſee— who ſhould this bee. that ſhould abuſe mee thus, let mee but finde him out, and be he the beſt i'th Court, it ſhall goe hard but I'le have a quaint poiſon for him, ſhall worke a little otherwiſe with him than this has done with me. The beſt i'th Court? A quaint poyſon for him. Do's your retiredneſſe lead you to treaſon? let's apprehend him: For a Traytour. Nay good Gentlemen, what ſhall I do? I'me undone. A quaint poyſon!— ſo it was. And for the beſt i'th Court. In troth, Signiours, I meant it not. 'Twas too much you ſaid it, Sir. Doe but conceale mee.— Then you'le confeſſe, and bring us in as parties. May I be hang'd if I doe; beſides, what ever ſecret diſeaſe you have about you, I'le cure you gratis. And thinke no more of poyſoning them, that brought the muſitians to your window; 'twas our plot Sir. I forgive you, and pray Gentlemen uſe mee for your Phyſitian when ever the ſtate of your bodies requires it. I'le learne ſecrecie of you. Agreed. Faith Grutty, this plot was well thought on; I could finde in my heart to truſt him. You may; and hence forward I'le ſinne with leſſe ſcruple. 'Tis hee— I am confirm'd: Frederico, Albert's Sonne— I'le let him live conceal'd, he's a ſure Inſtrument, and will ſerve mee for all turnes. —humph, —could he thinke his puling ſiſters, Or his Fathers, wrongs, ſate ſo heavy on my heart-ſtrings, That I could be mov'd to kill my Prince In their revenge? Indeed I lov'd her once, Till I enjoy'd her, but ſhe's loſt, ſo is her memory; I've higher thoughts now; Charintha is my aime, Ferrando's niece; next heire to the Crowne; Mine by his promiſe: can I but divorce Valenzo from her love, together with His life, I'me ſafe; 'tis that I am contriving: He is my rivall both in a Miſtreſſe, and A Princes favour.—Who waits within there? ho.