Marston, John · published 1602 · first performed or written 1602 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.85 · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Body a me, the Duke: away the glass. Take up your paper, Rossaline. Not mine, my Lord. Not yours, my Lady? I'll see what 'tis. And how does my sweet mistress? O Lady dear, even as 'tis an old say, 'tis an old horse can neither wehee, nor wag his tail: even so do I hold my set face still: even so, 'tis a bad courtier that can neither discourse, nor blow his nose. Meet me at Abraham's, the Jews, where I bought my Amazons disguise. A ship lies in the port, ready bound for England; make haste, come private. Antonio, Forobosco, Alberto, Feliche, Castilio, Balurdo? run, keep the Palace, post to the ports, go to my daughter's chamber: whether now? scud to the Jews, stay, run to the gates, stop the gundolets, let none pass the marsh, do all at once. Antonio? his head, his head. Keep you the Court, the rest stand still, or run, or go, or shout, or search, or scud, or call, or hang, or do do do, su su su, something: I know not who who who, what I do do do, nor who who who, where I am. O trista traditriche, rea, ribalda fortuna, Negando mi vindetta mi causa fera morte, Ha ha ha. I could break my spleen at his impatience. Alma & gratiosa fortuna siane favour evole, Et fortunati siano unoti del mia dulce Mellida, Mellida. Alas Antonio, I have lost thy note. A number mount my stairs; i'll straight return. Antonio, Be not affright, sweet Prince; appease thy fear, Buckle thy spirits up, put all thy wits In wimble action, or thou art surprised. I care not. Art mad, or desperate? or Both, both, all, all: I pray thee let me lie; Spite of you all, I can, and I will die. You are distraught; O, this is madness breath. Each man take hence life, but no man death: he's a good fellow, and keeps open house: A thousand thousand ways lead to his gate, To his wide mouthed porch: when niggard life Hath but one little, little wicket through. We wring ourselves into this wretched world, To pule, and weep, exclaim, to curse and rail, To fret, and ban the fates, to strike the earth As I do now. Antonio, curse thy birth, And die. Nay, heaven's my comfort, now you are perverse; You know I always loved you; pree live. Wilt thou strike dead thy friends, draw mourning tears Alas, Feliche, I ha' near a friend; No country, father, brother, kinsman left To weep my fate, or sigh my funeral: I roll but up and down, and fill a seat In the dark cave of dusky misery. Fore heaven, the Duke comes: hold you, take my key, Slink to my chamber, look you; that is it: There shall you find a suit I wore at sea: Take it, and slip away. Nay, precious, If you'll be peevish, by this light, I'll swear, Thou railedst upon thy love before thou diedst, And called her strumpet.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Bodie a mee, the Duke: away the glasse. Take vp your paper, Rossaline. Not mine, my Lord. Not yours, my Ladie? Ile see what tis. And how does my sweete mistresse? O Ladie deare, euen as tis an olde say, Tis an old horse can neither wighy, nor wagge his taile: euen so doe I holde my set face still: euen so, tis a bad courtier that can neither discourse, nor blow his nose. Meet me at Abrahams, the Iewes, where I bought my Amazons disguise. A shippe lies in the port, ready bound for England; make haste, come priuate. Antonio, Forobosco, Alberto, Feliche, Castilio, Balurdo? run, keepe the Palace, post to the ports, goe to my daughters chamber: whether now? scud to the Iewes, stay, runne to the gates, stop the gundolets, let none passe the marsh, doe all at once. Antonio? his head, his head. Keep you the Court, the rest stand still, or runne, or goe, or shoute, or search, or scud, or call, or hang, or doe doe doe, su su su, somthing: I know not who who who, what I do do do, nor who who who, where I am. O trista traditriche, rea, ribalda fortuna, Negando mi vindetta mi causa fera morte, Ha ha ha. I could breake my splene at his impatience. Alma & gratiosa fortuna siae fauor evole, Et fortunati siano vnoti del mia dulce Mellida, Mellida. Alas Antonio, I haue lost thy note. A number mount my staires; ile straight returne. Antonio, Be not affright, sweete Prince; appease thy feare, Buckle thy spirits vp, put all thy wits In wimble action, or thou art surpriz'd. I care not. Art mad, or desperate? or Both, both, all, all: I pree thee let mee ly; Spight of you all, I can, and I will dy. You are distraught; O, this is madnesse breath. Each man take hence life, but no man death: Hee's a good fellow, and keepes open house: A thousand thousand waies lead to his gate, To his wide mouth'd porch: when niggard life Hath but one little, little wicket through. We wring our selues into this wretched world, To pule, and weepe, exclaime, to curse and raile, To fret, and ban the fates, to strike the earth As I doe now. Antonio, curse thy birth, And die. Nay, heauens my comfort, now you are peruerse; You know I alwaies lou'd you; pree thee liue. Wilt thou strike deade thy friends, drawe mourning teares Alas, Feliche, I ha nere a friend; No country, father, brother, kinsman left To weepe my fate, or sigh my funerall: I roule but vp and downe, and fill a seat In the darke caue of dusky misery. Fore heauen, the Duke comes: hold you, take my key, Slinke to my chamber, looke you; that is it: There shall you finde a suite I wore at sea: Take it, and slippe away. Nay, pretious, If youle be peeuish, by this light, Ile sweare, Thou rail'dst vpon thy loue before thou dyedst, And call'd her strumpet.