Marston, John · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 [1602-1604] (Annals) tragicomedy · Children of the Chapel (second) T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.75 · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Now a my conscience, now I think in my discretion, we did not take her in the right sign, the blood was not in the true vein, sure. On on, leave us, leave us: stay where is the hermit? With Duke Pietro, with Duke Pietro. Is he dead? is he poisoned? Dead as the Duke is. Good, excellent, he will not blab, secureness lives in secrecy, come hither, come hither. Thou hast a certain strong villainous sent about thee, my nature cannot endure. Sent man? what returns Maria? what answer to our suit? Cold, frosty, she is obstinate. Then she's but dead 'tis resolute, she dies: Black deed only through black deeds safely flies Pew, per scelera semper sceleribus tutum est iter. What art a scholar? art a politician? sure thou art an errand knave. Who I? I ha' been twice an under sheriff, man. Canst hou impoys ▪ canst thou impoyson? Excellently, no Iew, Pothecary, or Politician better: look ye, here's a box, whom wouldst thou empoison, here's a box, which opened, and the fume ta'en up in condites, thorough which the brain purges itself, doth instantly for 12. hours space, bind up all show of life in a deep senseless sleep: here's another, which being opened under the sleepers nose, chokes all the pores of life, kills him suddenly. I'll try experiments, 'tis good not to be deceived: so, so, Catzo: Who would fear that ma destroy, death hath no teeth, nor tongue, And he that's great, to him one slaves shame, Murder, fame and wrong. Celzo? My honoured Lord. The good Malevole, that plain-tongued man, alas, is dead on sudden wondrous strangely, he held in our esteem good place, Celso, see him buried, see him buried. I shall observe ye. And Celso, prithee let it be thy care tonight To have some pretty show, to solemnize Our high installment, some music, maskery: we'll give fair entertain unto Maria The Duchess to the banished Altofront: Thou shalt conduct her from the Citadel Unto the Palace, think on some maskery. Of what shape, sweet Lord, Why shape? why any quick done fiction, As some brave spirits of the Genoan Dukes, To come out of Elysium forsooth, Led in by Mercury to gratulate Our happy fortune, some such any thing, some far fet trick, good for Ladies, some stale toy or other, no matter so't be of our devising. Do thou prepar't, 'tis but for fashion sake, Fear not, it shall be graced man, it shall take. All service. All thanks, our hand shall not be close to thee: farewell Now is my treachery secure, nor can we fall: Mischief that prospers men do virtue call, I'll trust no man, he that by tricks gets wreaths, Keeps them with steel, no man securely breathes, Out of distuned ranks the Crowd will mutter fool: Who cannot bear with spite he cannot rule: The chist for a man of flat, Is to live senseless of a strengthless hate. Death of the damned thief, I'll make one i'the mask, thou shalt ha' some Brave spirits of the antic Dukes. My Lord, what strange delusion?
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)
Now a my con, now I thinke in my discre did not take her e ght signe, the blood was not in the true veine, sure. On on, leaue vs, leaue vs where is the hermit▪ With Duke Pietro, with Pietro. Is he dead? is he poysoned▪ Dead as the Duke is. Good, excellent, he will not ▪ serenes liues in secrecy▪ cōme liether▪ come liether. Thou hast a certaine strong villa sent about thee, my nature cannot indue. Sent man? what returnes Maria? what answer to our sute? Colde▪ frostie, she is obstinate. Then shees but dead is resolute, she dies: Black deede onely through black deedes safely flies▪ Pew, per scra semper sceleribus tutum est ter. What ar a scholler? art a polititian? sure thou ate an arrand knaue. Wh I? I h bene an vnder sherife, man. Canst hou impoys ▪ canst thou impoyson? Excellently▪ no Iew▪ Potecary, or better: look ye, here's a box, whom wouldst thou impoison, here's a box, which opened, and the ne vp in condites, thorow which the braine purge it selfe, doth instantly for 12. houres space, bind vp al shew of life in a deep sensles sleep: heres another, which being opened vnder the sleeper nose, chaks all the pores of life, him sodainely. Ile try experiments, tis good not to be decoued▪ so, Catzo: Who would feare that ma destroy, death hath no teeth, nor tng, And he thats great▪ to him one slaues sham, Murder, fame and wrong▪ Celzo My honored Lord. The good Maleuole, that plain-tongued , is dead on sodaine wondrou strangely, he held in or esteem good place, Celso, see him buried, see him buried. I shall obserue ye. And Celso, let it be thy care to night To haue some pretty shew▪ o solemnize Our high instalment, some musike, maskery: Weele giue fre enttaine vnto Maria The Dutchesse to the banishd Altofront: Thou shalt conduct her from the Citadell Vnto the Pallace, thinke on some maskery. Of what shape, sweete Lorde, Why shape? why any quicke done fiction, As some brau spirites of the Gen Dukes, To come out of Elizium forsooth, Led in by Mercury to gratulate Our happy fortune, some such any thing, some farre et tricke, good for Ladies, some stale toy or other, no matter so't be of our deuising. Do thou prepar't, tis but for fashion sake, Feare not, it shal be grac'd man, it shall take. All seruice. All thankes, our hand shal not be lose to thee: farewel Now is my trechery secure, nor can we fall: Mischiefe that prspers men do vertue call, Ile trust no man, he that by trickes▪gos wreathes, Keepes them with le, no man seely breathes, Out of rankes the Crowde will mtter foole: Who cannot beare with spie he cannot rule: The chist for a man of flat, Is to liue senslesse of a strengthlesse hate. Death of the damn'd thiefe, Ile make one i'the maske, thou shalt ha some Brue spirites of the antique Dukes. My Lord, what strange dision?