Antonio's Revenge (2 Antonio and Mellida) · chunk 20 of 29
Marston, John · published 1602 · first performed or written 1602 (Annals) tragedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
Most just and upright in our judgement seat. Were Mellida mine eye, with such a blemish Of most loathed looseness, I would scratch it out. Produce the strumpet in her bridal robes, That she may blush t'appear so white in show, And black in inward substance. Bring her in. I hold Antonio, for his father's sake, So very dearly, so entirely choice, That knew I but a thought of prejudice, Imagined 'gainst his high ennobled blood, I would maintain a mortal feud, undying hate 'gainst the conceivers life. And shall justice sleep In fleshly Lethargy, for mine own blood's favour, When the sweet prince hath so apparent scorn By my (I will not call her) daughter. Go, Conduct in the loved youth Antonio: He shall behold me spurn my private good. Piero loves his honour more than's blood. The devil he does more than both. Stand back there, fool; I do hate a fool most most pathetically. O these that have no sap of of retort and obtuse wit in them: faugh. Puff; hold world: puff, hold bubble; Puff, hold world: puff, break not behind: puff, thou art full of wind; puff, keep up by wind: puff, 'tis broke: & now I laugh like a good fool at the breath of mine own lips, he, he, he, he, he. You fool. You fool, puff. I cannot digest thee, the unvulgar fool. Go fool. Forbear, Balurdo, let the fool alone, Come hither (ficto) Is he your fool? Yes, my loved Lord. Would all the States in Venice were like thee. O then I were secured. He that's a villain, or but meanly souled, Must still converse, and cling to routs of fools, That can not search the leaks of his defects. O, your unsalted fresh fool is your only man: These vinegar tart spirits are too piercing, Too searching in the unglued joints of shaken wits. Find they a chink, they'll wriggle in and in, And eat like salt sea in his siddowe ribs, Till they have opened all his rotten parts, Unto the vaunting surge of base contempt, And sunk the tossed galleass in depth Of whirlpool Scorn. Give me an honest fop: Dud a dud a? why lo sir, this takes he As grateful now, as a Monopoly. ALL honour to this royal confluence. Forbear (impure) to blot bright honour's name, With thy defiled lips. The flux of sin Flows from thy tainted body: thou so foul, So all dishonoured, canst no honour give, No wish of good, that can have good effect To this grave senate, and illustrate bloods. Why stays the doom of death? Who riseth up to manifest her guilt? You must produce apparent proof, my Lord. Why, where is Strotzo? he that swore he saw The very act: and vowed that Feliche fled Upon his sight: on which, I broke the breast Of the adulterous lecher, with five stabs. Go fetch in Strotzo. Now thou impudent, If thou hast any drop of modest blood Shrouded within thy cheeks; blush, blush for shame, That rumor yet may say, thou feltst defame.
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)
Most iust and vpright in our iudgement seat. Were Mellida mine eye, with such a blemish Of most loath'd loosenesse, I would scratch it out. Produce the strumpet in her bridall robes, That she may blush t'appeare so white in showe, And blacke in inward substance. Bring her in. I holde Antonio, for his fathers sake, So verie dearely, so entirely choyce, That knewe I but a thought of preiudice, Imaigin'd 'gainst his high innobled blood, I would maintaine a mortall feude, vndying hate Gainst the conceiuers life. And shall Iustice sleepe In fleshly Lethargie, for myne owne bloods fauour, When the sweete prince hath so apparant scorne By my (I wil not call her) daughter. Goe, Conduct in the loued youth Antonio: He shall beholde me spurne my priuate good. Piero loues his honour more then's blood. The diuell he does more then both. Stand backe there, foole; I do hate a foole most most pathetically. O these that haue no sappe of of retort and obtuse wit in them: faugh. Puffe; holde world: puffe, hold bubble; Puffe, holde world: puffe, breake not behinde: puffe, thou art full of winde; puffe, keepe vp by winde: puffe, 'tis broake: & now I laugh like a good foole at the breath of mine owne lips, he, he, he, he, he. You foole. You foole, puffe. I cannot disgest thee, the vnuulgar foole. Goe foole. Forbeare, Balurdo, let the foole alone, Come hither (ficto) Is he your foole? Yes, my lou'd Lord. Would all the States in Venice were like thee. O then I were secur'd. He that's a villaine, or but meanely sowl'd, Must stil conuerse, and cling to routes of fooles, That can not search the leakes of his defectes. O, your vnsalted fresh foole is your onely man: These vinegar tart spirits are too pearcing, Too searching in the vnglewd ioynts of shaken wits. Finde they a chinke, they'l wriggle in and in, And eat like salt sea in his siddowe ribs, Till they haue opened all his rotten parts, Vnto the vaunting surge of base contempt, And sunke the tossed galleasse in depth Of whirlepoole Scorne. Giue me an honest fopp: Dud a dud a? why loe sir, this takes he As grateful now, as a Monopolie. ALL honour to this royall confluence. Forbeare (impure) to blot bright honours name, With thy defiled lips. The fluxe of sinne Flowes from thy tainted bodie: thou so foule, So all dishonour'd, canst no honour giue, No wish of good, that can haue good effect To this graue senate, and illustrate bloodes. Why staies the doome of death? Who riseth vp to manifest her guilt? You must produce apparant proofe, my Lord. Why, where is Strotzo? he that swore he saw The verie acte: and vow'd that Feliche fled Vpon his sight: on which, I brake the breast Of the adulterous letcher, with fiue stabbes. Goe fetch in Strotzo. Now thou impudent, If thou hast any droppe of modest bloode Shrowded within thy cheeks; blush, blush for shame, That rumor yet may say, thou felt'st defame.