Fedele and Fortunia (Two Italian Gentlemen) · chunk 13 of 30
Pasqualigo, Luigi / Munday, Anthony · published 1585 · first performed or written 1584 [1579-1584] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (first) (Oxford's Boys) · before the Court unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 514 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Well met good Sir Fedele, what's the cause Of these your troubled looks that I behold, What rain is threatened by these stormy flaws: Which by your gate, and gesture you unfold? Is love the spark that kindles all this fire: Or do you lack the fruit of your desire? The cause that sets my gestures out of frame. Is in yourself if you do search the same. And why good Sir? What make you here so early in the street? My longing thoughts did prophesy, that here I should you meet. Not me but Sir Fortunio: you know this I am sure: And what by magic you have done, his favour to procure. I never thought so fair a dame, had been so foul within, But sith continued service, had no force thy grace to win: Be sure unthankful wretch, perjured and most disloyal dame: I will not rest, before I be revenged of the same. This to Fortunio presently I purpose shall be shown: And open brute of thy reproach, throughout the City blown. All that in Naples dwell this day, shall wonder at this deed, And every wounding tongue shall make thine honour now to bleed. myself will help to tear the heart, out of thy body quick, And give thy crimson coloured blood, unto the dogs to lick. So lively will I blaze thee out, to every gazer's eye: That though thy carcase rot and waste, thy shame shall never die. As busy will I be to plague thee more than is expressed: As thou wast cunning to deceive the man that loved thee best. I think you are disposed to jest, and make some trial here, How trimly you can tread aloft to thunder in mine ear. For when I slide into myself, and there examine well, What I have done, I find I never from Fedele fell. And yet I see your heart still works, by which I do suspect, Some Sycophants would make you, your Victoria to reject. But patience is a virtue, as the worthiest wits do say, My love to you, deserves not that you uttered here this day. Yes that, and more, in thee's no truth, love, faith, nor loyalty, But lies, dissembling, falsehood, hate, sin, shame, and sorcery. bestir thyself, enchant, and conjure now and do thy worst, The day thou knewst us both, shall shortly be by thee accursed. I am not privy unto this, nor know Fortunio. Ah poor Victoria thou art caught, alas what shall I do? Now counsel me Attilia, Attilia, is not here: Where be my gallants now, will not Crack-stone appear? Now is the time for thee Crack-stone my heart to gain, Oh save my life, and him dispatch that doth mine honour stain. do this and then I will be thine, and listen to thy suit, But till that I may speak with him, 'tis best that I be mute. Farewell Sir, be not rash, but judge, I cannot answer much: More you shall know when time hath tried, my truth by perfect tuch. A Dio.
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)
¶Well met good Sir Fedele, whats the cause Of these your troubled lookes that I beholde, What rain is threatned by these stormy flawes: Which by your gate, and gesture you vnfolde? Is looue the spark that kindels all this fier: Or doo you lack the fruit of your desire? ¶The cause that sets my gestures out of frame. Is in your selfe if you doo search the same. ¶And why good Sir? ¶What make you héer so early in the stréet? ¶My longing thoughts did prophesie, that héer I should you méet. ¶Not mée but Sir Fortunio: you know this I am suer: And what by magick you haue doon, his fauour to procure. I neuer thought so fayre a dame, had béen so foule within, But sith continued seruice, had no force thy grace to win: Be suer vnthankful wretch, periur'd and moste disloyall dame: I will not rest, before I bée reuenged of the same. This to Fortunio presently I purpose shall be shown: And open brute of thy reproche, throughout the Citie blown. All that in Naples dwell this day, shall wunder at this déed, And euery wounding tung shall make thine honor now to bléed. My selfe will help to teare the hart, out of thy body quick, And giue thy crimson coulered blood, vnto the dogs to lick. So liuely wil I blaze thée out, to euery gazers eye: That though thy carcas rot and waste, thy shame shall neuer dye. As busy will I bée to plague thée more then is exprest: As thou wast cunning to deceiue the man that lou'd thée best. ¶I think you are disposed to iest, and make some triall héere, How trimly you can tread aloft to thunder in mine eare. For when I slide into my selfe, and there examine well, What I haue doon, I finde I neuer from Fedele fell. And yet I sée your hart still workes, by which I doo suspect, Some Sicophants would make you, your Victoria to reiect. But pacience is a vertue, as the woorthiest wits doo say, My loue to you, deserues not that you vttred héer this day. ¶Yes that, and more, in thée's no trueth, loue, faith, nor loyaltye, But lies, dessembling, falshood, hate, sin, shame, and sorcery. Bestur thy selfe, enchaunt, and coniure now and doo thy woorst, The day thow knewst vs both, shall shortly be by thée accurst. ¶I am not priuy vnto this, nor know Fortunio. Ah poore Victoria thou art caught, alas what shall I doo? Now counsaile me Attilia, Attilia, is not héer: Where be my gallants now, will not Crack-stone appeare? Now is the time for thée Crack-stone my hart to gaine, Oh saue my life, and him dispatch that dooth mine honor staine. Doo this and then I wll be thine, and listen to thy sute, But til that I may speak with him, tis best that I be mute. Farwell Sir, be not rash, but Iudge, I cannot answere much: More you shall know when time hath tried, my truth by perfect tuch. A Dio.