Blurt, Master Constable, or The Spaniard's Night Walk · chunk 29 of 34
Anonymous · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 [1601-1602] (Annals) romance · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Gentlemen and Noble Italians, whom I love best; who know best what wrongs I have stood under: being lay de on by him, who is to thank me for his life, I did bestow him (as the prize of mine honour) upon my Love, the most fair Violetta: my loves merit was basely sold to him, by the most false Violetta: not content with this Felony, he hath dared to add the sweet theft of Ignoble marriage; she's now, nonce but his, and he (treacherous villain) any ones, but hers; he dotes (my honoured friends) on a painted Courtesan, and in scorn of our Italian laws, our family, our revenge, loathes Violetta's bed, for a harlot's bosom: I conjure you therefore, by all the bonds of Gentility, that as you have solemnly sworn a most sharp; so let the revenge be most sudden. Be not yourself a bar, to that suddenness, by this protraction. Away Gentlemen, away then. As for that light Hobby-horse my Sister, whose foul name, I will raze out with my Poniard; by the honour of my Family (which her lust hath profaned) I swear (and Gentlemen be in this, my sworn brothers) I swear that as all Venice does admire her beauty, so all the world shall be amazed at her punishment, follow therefore. Stay, let our resolutions keep together: whether go; we first? To the Strumpet Imperia's. Agreed, what then? There to find Fontinell; found, to kill him. And killed, to hang out his reeking body, at his harlot's window. And by his body, the strumpets. And between both, my Sisters. The Tragedy is just: on then, begin. As you go, every hand pull in a friend, to strengthen us against all opposites: he that has any drop of true Italian blood in him, thus vow (this morning) to shed others, or let out his own; if you consent to this, follow me. Via, away, the treacherous Frenchman dies. At so, Saint Mark my Pistol, thus death flies. Ah you little effeminate sweet Chevalier, why dost thou not get a loose Periwig of hair on thy chin, to set thy French face off, by the panting pulse of Venus: thou art welcome a thousand degrees beyond the reach of arithmetic: Good, good, good, your lip is moist & moving; it hath the truest French close, even like Mapew; la, la, la etc. Dear Lady, o life of love, what sweetness dwells In loves variety? the soul that plods In one harsh book of beauty; but repeats The stale and tedious learning, that hath oft Faded the senses: when (in reading more) We glide in new sweets, and are starved with store, Now by the heart of love, my Violet Is a foul weed (o pure Italian flower!) She, a black Negro, to the white compare, Of this unequalled beauty: O most accursed! That I have given her leave to challenge me: But Lady, poison speaks Italian well, And in a loathed kiss, I'll include her hell.
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)
Gentlemen and Noble Italians, whome I loue best; who know best what wrongs I haue stood vnder: being lay de on by him, who is to thanke me for his life, I did bestowe him (as the prize of mine honour) vpon my Loue, the most faire Violetta: my loues merit was basely solde to him, by the most false Violetta: not content with this Fellonie, he hath dar'd to adde the sweet theft of Ignoble marriage; shee's now, nones but his, and hee (treacherous villaine) any ones, but hers; hee dotes (my honor'd friends) on a painted Curtizan, and in scorne of our Italian lawes, our familie, our reuenge, loathes Violettaes bed, for a harlots bosome: I coniure you therefore, by all the bonds of Gentilitie, that as you haue solemnely sworne a most sharpe; so let the reuenge be most sodaine. Be not your selfe a barre, to that sodainnes, by this protraction. Away Gentlemen, away then. As for that light Hobby-horse my Sister, whose foule name, I will race out with my Poniard; by the honour of my Familie (which her lust hath prophaned) I sweare (and Gentlemen be in this, my sworne brothers) I sweare that as all Uenice does admire her beautie, so all the world shall be amazed at her punishment, follow therefore. Stay, let our resolutions keepe together: whether goe; we first? To the Strumpet Imperiaes. Agreed, what then? There to finde Fontinell; found, to kill him. And kill'd, to hang out his reeking bodie, at his Harlots window. And by his body, the strumpets. And betweene both, my Sisters. The Tragedie is iust: on then, begin. As you goe, euerie hand pull in a friend, to strengthen vs against all opposites: he that has any drop of true Italian bloud in him, thus vow (this morning) to shed others, or let out his owne; if you consent to this, follow me. Via, away, the treacherous Frenchman dyes. At so, Saint Marke my Pistoll, thus death flyes. Ah you little effeminate sweete Cheueleere, why dost thou not get a loose Periwig of haire on thy chinne, to set thy French face off, by the panting pulse of Uenus: thou art welcome a thousand degrees beyond the reach of Arithmaticke: Good, good, good, your lip is moiste & moouing; it hath the truest French close, euen like Mapew; la, la, la &c. Deare Ladie, ô life of loue, what sweetnes dwels In loues varietie? the soule that plods In one harsh booke of beautie; but repeates The stale and tedious learning, that hath oft Faded the sences: when (in reading more) We glide in new sweets, and are staru'd with store, Now by the heart of loue, my Uiolet Is a foule weede (ô pure Italian flower!) She, a blacke Negro, to the white compare, Of this vnequal'd beautie: O most accurst! That I haue giuen her leaue to challenge me: But Ladie, poison speakes Italian well, And in a loathed kisse, Ile include her hell.