The Magnetic Lady, or Humors Reconciled · chunk 28 of 45
Jonson, Ben · published 1640 · first performed or written 1632 [licensed for stage, Oct 12] (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
That might be avoided. I, and with assurance, That it is found in Noblemen, and Gentlemen, Of the best sheaf. Who having lives to loose, Like private men, have yet a world of honour, And public reputation to defend—. Which in the brave historified Greeks, And Romans you shall read of. And (no doubt) May in our Alder-men meet it, and their Deputies, The Soldiers of the City, valiant blades, Who (rather than their houses should be ransacked) Would fight it out, like so many wild beasts; Not for the fury they are commonly armed with: But the close manner of their sight, and custom, Of joining head to head, and foot to foot. And which of these so well-prest resolutions Am I to encounter now? For commonly, Men that have so much choice before 'em, have Some trouble to resolve of any one. There are three valours yet, which Sir Diaphanous, Hath (with his leave) not touched. Yea? which are those? He perks at that! Nay, he does more, he chatters. A Philosophical contempt of death, Is one: Than an infused kind of valour, Wrought in us by our Genii, or good spirits; Of which the gallant Ethnics had deep sense: Who generally held, that no great Statesman, Scholar, or Soldier, ere did any thing Sine divino aliquo afflatu. But there's a Christian valour, 'bove these too. Which is a quiet patiented toleration, Of whatsoever the malicious world With Injury doth unto you; and consists In passion, more than action, Sir Diaphanous. Sure, I do take mine to be Christian valour—. You may mistake though. Can you justify On any cause, this seeking to deface, The divine Image in a man? O Sir! Let 'em alone: Is not Diaphanous As much a divine Image, as is Ironside? Let Images fight, if they will fight, a God's name. Where's Mr. Needle? Saw you Mr. Needle? We are undone. What ails the frantic Nurse? My Mistress is undone, she's crying out! Where is this man trow? Mr. Needle? Here. Run for the party, Mistress Chair the Midwife. Nay, look how the man stands, as he were goked! she's lost, if you not haste away the party. Where is the Doctor? Where a scoffing man is. And his Apothecary, little better; They laugh, and gear at all: will you dispatch? And fetch the party quickly to our Mistress: We are all undone! The Tympany will out else. News, news, good news, better than buttered news! My Niece is found with Child, the Doctor tells me, And fall'n in labour. How? The portion's paid! The portion— o'the Captain! Is he here? H'has spied your swords out! put 'em up, put up, Ye have driven him hence; and yet your quarrel's ended. In a most strange discovery. Of light gold. And cracked within the Ring. I take the Omen, As a good Omen. Than put up your Sword, And on your Doublet. Give the Captain thanks.
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)
That might be avoided. I, and with aſſurance, That it is found in Noble-men, and Gentlemen, Of the beſt ſheafe. Who having lives to loſe, Like private men, have yet a world of honour, And publike reputation to defend—. Which in the brave hiſtorified Greeks, And Romans you ſhall reade of. And (no doubt) May in our Alder-men meet it, and their Deputies, The Souldiers of the Citie, valiant blades, Who (rather then their houſes ſhould be ranſack'd) Would fight it out, like ſo many wild beaſts; Not for the fury they are commonly arm'd with: But the cloſe manner of their ſight, and cuſtome, Of joyning head to head, and foot to foot. And which of theſe ſo well-preſt reſolutions Am I to encounter now? For commonly, Men that have ſo much choiſe before 'hem, have Some trouble to reſolve of any one. There are three valours yet, which Sir Diaphanous, Hath (with his leave) not touch'd. Yea? which are thoſe? He perks at that! Nay, he does more, he chatters. A Philoſophicall contempt of death, Is one: Then an infuſed kind of valour, Wrought in us by our Genii, or good ſpirits; Of which the gallant Ethnicks had deepe ſenſe: Who generally held, that no great Stateſ-man, Scholler, or Souldier, ere did any thing Sine divino aliquo afflatu. But there's a Chriſtian valour, 'bove theſe too. Which is a quiet patient toleration, Of whatſoever the malitious world With Injury doth unto you; and conſiſts In paſſion, more then action, Sir Diaphanous. Sure, I doe take mine to be Chriſtian valour—. You may miſtake though. Can you juſtifie On any cauſe, this ſeeking to deface, The divine Image in a man? O Sir! Let 'hem alone: Is not Diaphanous As much a divine Image, as is Ironſide? Let Images fight, if they will fight, a God's name. Where's Mr. Needle? Saw you Mr. Needle? Wee are undone. What ailes the frantick Nurſe? My Miſtris is undone, ſhee's crying out! Where is this man trow? Mr. Needle? Here. Run for the party, Mrs. Chaire the Mid-wife. Nay, looke how the man ſtands, as he were gok't! Shee's loſt, if you not haſte away the party. Where is the Doctor? Where a ſcoffing man is. And his Apothecary, little better; They laugh, and geere at all: will you diſpatch? And fetch the party quickly to our Miſtris: Wee are all undone! The Timpanie will out elſe. Newes, newes, good newes, better then butter'd newes! My Neice is found with Child, the Doctor tels me, And falne in labour. How? The portion's paid! The portion—o'the Captaine! Is he here? H'has ſpi'd your ſwords out! put 'hem up, put up, Yo' have driven him hence; and yet your quarrell's ended. In a moſt ſtrange diſcovery. Of light gold. And crack't within the Ring. I take the Omen, As a good Omen. Then put up your Sword, And on your Doublet. Give the Captaine thankes.