The Blind Beggar of Alexandria (Irus) · chunk 18 of 26
Chapman, George · published 1598 · first performed or written 1596 [Feb 12] (Annals) comedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men unassigned nearest T34 Thebes and royal catastrophe: siege, sla · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T34: thebes, antigone, polynices, creon, eteocles, war, theban, gods, dear, country.
Be patient my wench and I'll tell thee the very words, oh my Cleanthes, love me, pity me, hate me not for love, and it is not lust hath made me thus importunate, for then there are men enough besides Cleanthes, go to tell me were not these your words, & I like no traitor to you but a trusty friend now by this pistol which is God's angel I never uttered them till now I spoke them not but had you been so bad, As some men are you might have said as much, By fictions only therefore I must needs, Think much the better of you to conceal it, Oh your a cunning wench and am not I a mad slave to have such virtue as secrecy in me and none never looked for any such thing at my hands, and here's a branch forsooth of your little son turned to a mandrake tree, by Hella the sorceress. 'tis true and kills me to remember it. Tut tut remember it and be wise thou wouldst have Cleanthes, come again wouldst thou not, The king is so advised to give him death. The King, come come 'tis you rule the King now would any wise woman in the world be so hunger-starved for a man and not use the means to have him, thinkst thou Cleanthes will come again to have his head chopped of so soon as he comes, but had you plucked up this branch wherein the King thy husbands life consists and burnt it in the fire, his old beard would have stunk for't in the grave ere this, and than thou shouldst have seen whether Cleanthes would have come unto thee or no. Oh execrable counsel. Go to 'tis good counsel, take the grace of God before your eyes, and follow it to it wench corragio, I know I have gotten thee with child of a desire, and thou longest but for a knife to let it out, hold there 'tis serve God and be thankful, now you knaves will you let me come out trow. Please your Lordship to bestow something on us for we are poor knaves. Hark you be even knaves still, and if you be poor long your foolish knaves, and so I'll leave you. Nay swoons my Lord no knaves neither. Then he was a knave that told me so, what dost thou tell me that. This serpent's counsel stings me to the heart. Mounts to my brain and binds my prince of sense. My voluntary motion and my life, Sitting itself triumphing in their thrones, And that doth force my hand to take this knife, That bows my knees and sets me by thy branch, Oh my diones oh my only son, Canst thou now feel the rigour of a knife, No thou art senseless and I'll cut thee up, I'll shroud thee in my bosom safe from storms, And trust no more my trustless guard with thee,
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)
Be patient my wench and Ile tell th the very words, oh my Cleanthes, loue me, pittie me, hate me not for loue, and it is not lust hath made me thus importunate, for then there are men enough besides Cles, go to tel me were not these your woords, & I like no traytor to you but a truie freend now by this pistol which is Gods angell I neuer vttered them till now I spake them not but had you beene so bad, As some men are you might haue saide as much, By fis onely therefore I must needes, Thinke much the better of you to conceale it, Oh your a cunning wench and am not I mad slaue to haue such vertue as sresic in me and none neuer lookt or any such thing at my handes, and heres a branch forsooth of your little sonne turnd to a Mandracke tree, by Hella the sorceresse. Tis true and kils me to remember it. Tut tut remember it and be wise thou wouldst haue Cleanthes, come agayne wouldst thou not, The king is so aduisd to giue him death. The King, come come tis you rule the King now would any wise woman in the worlde be so hungerstarued for a mn and not vse the meanes to haue him, thinkst thou Cleanthes will come agayne to haue his head chopt of so soone as he comes, but had you pluckt vp this branch wherein the King thy husbandes life consistes and burnt it in the fyre, his olde beard would haue stunckefort in the graue ere this, and then thou shouldst haue seene whether Cleanthes would haue come vnto thee or no. Oh excreable counsaile. Go to tis good counsaile, take the grace of God before your eyes, and follow it to it wench corragio, I know I haue gotten thee with childe of a desire, and thou longst but for a knife to let it out, hold there tis serue God and be thankfull, now you knaues will you let mee come out trow. Please your Lordshippe to bestow something on vs for we are poore knaues. Harke you be euen knaues still, and if you be poore long your foolish knaues, and so Ile leaue you. Nay swounes my Lord no knaues neyther. Then he was a knane that told me so, what doost thou tell mee that. This serpentes counsell stinges mee to the hart. Mountes to my braine and bindes my prince of sence. My voluntarie motion and my life, Sitting it selfe triumphing in there thrones, And that doth force my hand to take this knife, That bowes my knees and sets me by thy branch, Oh my diones oh my onely sonne, Canst thou now feele the rigour of a knife, Noe thou art senslesse and Ile cut thee vp, Ile shroude thee in my bosome safe from stormes, And trust no more my trustlesse gard with thee,