Marston, John / Webster, 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 0.70 · 486 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
From the public place of much dissimulation, What didst there▪ Talk with a Usurer: take up at interest. I wonder what religion thou art of. Of a soldiers religion. And what dost think makes most infidels 〈◊〉▪ Sects, sects, I have seen seeming Piety change her roabeso oft, that sure none but some archdivell can * shape her a petticoat. O a religious pollicie. But damnation on a politic religion: I am weary, would I were one of the Duke's hounds now. But what's the common news abroad Malevole, thou dog'st rumour still? Common news? why common words are, God save ye, Fare ye well: common actions, Flattery and Cozenage: common things, Women and Cuckolds: and how does my little Ferrardo a ye lecherous Animal, my little Ferret, he goes sucking up and down the palace into every hen's nest like a Weasel: and to what dost thou addict thy time to now, more than to those antic painted drabs that are still affected of young Courtiers, Flattery, Pride, and Venery. I study languages: who dost think to be the best linguist of our age? Phew, the Devil, let him possess thee, he'll teach thee to speak all languages, most readily and strangely, and great reason mary, he's traveled greatly in the world; & is every where. Save i'th' Court. ay, save i'th' Court: and how does my old muckhill overspread with fresh snow: thou halfe a man, halfe a goat, all a beast: how does thy young wife, old huddle? Out you improvident rascal. Do, kick thou hugely horned old Duke's Ox, good Master make-pleece. How dost thou live now a days Malevole? Why like the Knight S. Patrick Penlolians, with killing a spiders for my Lady's Monkey. How dost spend the night, I hear thou never sleepest? O no, but dream the most fantastical: O heaven: O fubbery, fubbery▪ Dream, what dreamest? Why me thinks I see that signor pawn his foot-cloth: that Metreza her Plate: this madam takes physic: that other Me●●si●ur may minister to her: here is a Pander jeweld: there is a fellow in shift of Satin this day, that could not shift a shirt other night: here a Paris supports that Helen: there's a Lady Guinever bears up that sir Lancelot. Dreams, dreams, visions, fantasies, chimeras, imaginations, tricks, conceits, * Sir Tristram Trimtram come a loft Jack a napes with a whim-wham, here's a Knight of the land of Catita shall play at trap with any page in Europe; Do the sword-dance, with any Morris dancer in Christendom; ride at the Ring till the sin of his eyes look as blue as the welkin, and run the wild-goose chase even with Pompey the huge. You run. To the devil: now Signior Guerchino; that thou from a most pitied prisoner shouldst grow a most loathed flatterer: Alas poor Celso, thy star's oppressed, thou art an honest Lord, 'tis pity. Is't pity?
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 76–101 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 4 of 38 in this edition
Length
486 words · 723 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T0 — Court life: dukes, favour and honourcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.704 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
From the publike place of much dissimulation, What didst there▪ Talke with a Vsurer: take vp at interest. I wonder what religion thou art of. Of a souldiers religion. And what doost thinke makes most infidells ▪ Sects, sects, I haue seene seeming Pietie change her roabeso oft, that sure none but some arch-diuell can * shape her a Peicote. O a religious pollicie. But damnation on a politique religion: I am wearie, would I were one of the Dukes houndes now. But what's the common newes abroad Maleole, thou dogst rumor still? Common newes? why common wordes are, God saue yee, Fare yee well: common actions, Flattery and Cosenage: common things, Women and Cuckolds: and how do's my little Ferrad a yee lecherous Animall, my little Ferret, he goes sucking vp and downe the pallace into euery hens nest like a Weesell: and to what doost thou addict thy time to now, more then to those Antique painted drabs that are still affected of yong Courtiers, Flattry, Pride, and Venery. I studie languages: who doost thinke to be the best linguist of our age? Phew, the Divell, let him possesse thee, hee'le teach thee to speake all languages, most readily and strangely, and great reason mary, hees traveld greatly in the world; & is every where. Saue ith Court. I, saue ith Court: and how do's my olde muckhill ouerspread with fresh snow: thou halfe a man, halfe a goate, al a beast: how do's thy yong wife, old huddle? Out you improuident rascall. Doe, kicke thou hugely hornd old Dukes Oxe, good Master make-pleece. How doost thou liue now a daies Maleuol? Why like the Knight S. Patrik Penlolians, with killing a spiders for my Ladies Munkey. How doost spend the night, I heare thou neuer sleep'st? O no, but dreame the most fantasticall: O heauen: O fubbery, fubbery▪ Dreame, what dreamst? Why me thinkes I see that Signior pawn his foot-cloth: that Metreza her Plate: this madam takes phisicke: that tother Mesiur may minister to her: here is a Pander jeweld: there is a fellow in shift of Satten this day, that could not shift a shirt tother night: heere a Paris supports that Hellen: there's a Lady Guineuer beares vp that sir Lancelt. Dreames, dreames, visions, fantasies, Chimeraes, imaginations, trickes, conceits, Sir Tristram Trimtram come a loft Iake a napes with a whim wham, heere's a Knight of the land of Catit shall play at trap with any page in Europe; Do the sword-dance, with any Morris dancer in Christendome; ride at the Ring till the inne of his eyes looke as blew as the welkin, and runne the wilde-goose chase uen with Pompey the huge. You runne. To the divell: now Signor Guerchin; that thou from a most pittied prisoner shouldst grow a most loathd flatterer: Alas poore Celso, thy starr's opprest, thou art an honest Lord, tis pity. Ist pitty?