Marston, John / Webster, John · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 [1602-1604] (Annals) tragicomedy · Children of the Chapel (second) unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 506 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
I marry be't philosophical Equato, & 'tis pity that thou being so excellent a scholar by art, shouldst be so ridiculous a fool by nature: I have a thing to tell you Duke; bid us avaunt, bid 'em avaunt. Leave us, leave us, now sir what be't? Duke thou art a Beco, a Cornuto. How? Thou art a Cuckold. Speak; unshale him quick. With most tumbler-like nimbleness. Who? by whom? I burst with desire. Mendoza is the man makes thee a horned beasts Duke 'tis Mendoza cornutes thee. What conformance▪ relate, short, short. As a Lawyer's beard, There is an old Crone in the Court, her name is Maquerelle, She is my mistress sooth to say, and she doth ever tell me, Blirt a rhyme; blirt a rhyme; Maquerelle is a cunning bawd, I am an honest villain, thy wife is a close drab, and thou at 〈…〉 cuckold, farewell Duke. Stay, stay. Dull, dull Duke, can lazy patience make lame revenge? O God for a woman to make a man that which God never created, never made! What did God never make? A cuckold: To be made a thing that's hoodwinked with kindness, whilst every rascal filips his brows; to have a coxcomb with egregious horns, pinned to a Lords back, every page sporting himself with delightful laughter, whilst he must be the last must know it; Pistols and Poniards, Pistols and Poniards. Death and damnation! Lightning and thunder! Vengeance and torture! Catzo! O revenge! Nay, to select among ten thousand fairs, A Lady far inferior to the most, In fair proportion both of limb and soul: To take her from austerer check of parents, To make her his by most devoutfull rights, Make her commandress of a better essence Than is the gorgeous world even of a man. To hug her with as raised an appetite, As usurers do their delved up treasury, (Thinking none tells it but his private self▪) To meet her spirit in a nimble kiss, Distilling panting ardour to her heart. True to her sheets, nay diets strong his blood, To give her height of Hymeneal sweets. O God Whilst she lisps, & gives him some court quelquechose Made only to provoke, not satiate: And yet even then, the thaw of her delight Flows from lewd heat of apprehension, Only from strange imaginations rankness, That forms the adulterer's presence in her soul, And makes her think she clips the foul knaves loins. Affliction to my blood's root. Nay think, but think what may proceed of this, Adultery is often the mother of incest. Incest. Yes incest: mark, Mendoza of his wife begets perchance a daughter. Mendoza died. His son marries this daughter. Say you? Nay 'tis frequent, not only probable, but no question often acted, whilst ignorance, fearless ignorance clasps his own seed. Hideous imagination! Adultery? why next to the sin of Simony, 'tis the most horrid transgression under the cope of salvation. Next to Simony? ay, next to Simony, in which our men in next age shall not sin.
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)
I marry ist philosophical Equato, & t'is pitty that thou being so excellent a scholler by art, shouldst be so ridiculous a foole by nature: I have a thing to tell you Duke; bi v auaunt, bid vm auaunt. Leaue vs, leaue vs, now sir what ist? Duke thou art a Beco, a Cornut. How? Thou art a Cuckold. Speake; vnshale him quicke. With most tumbler-like nimblenes. Who? by whom? I burst with desire. Mendoza is the man makes thee a hornd beast Duke t'is Mendoza cornutes thee. What conformance▪ relate, short, short. As a Lawyers beard, There is an old Crone in the Court, her name is Maquerelle, She is my mistris sooth to say, and she doth euer tell me, Blirt a rime; blirt a rime; Maquerelle is a cunning bawde, I am an honest villaine, thy wife is a close drab, and thou at cuckold, farewell Duke. Stay, stay. Dull, dull Duke, can lazy patience make lame reueng? O God for a woman to make a man that which God neuer created, neuer made! What did God never make? A cuckold: To bee made a thing that's hud-wink with kindenesse, whilst every rascall philips his browes; to have a coxcombe with egregious hornes, pind to a Lords backe, euery page sporting himselfe with delightfull laughter, whilst hee must be the last must know it; Pistols and Poniards, Pistols and Poniards. Death and damnation! Lightning and thunder! Vengeance and torture! Catz! O revenge! Nay, to select among ten thousand faires, A Lady farre inferior to the most, In faire proportion both of limbe and soule: To take her from austerer check of parents, To make her his by most deuoutfull rightes, Make her commandresse of a better essence Then is the gorgious world even of a man. To hug her with as rais'd an appetite, As vsurers do their delv'd vp treasury, (Thinking none tells it but his private selfe▪) To meete her spirit in a nimble kisse, Distilling panting ardor to her hart. True to her sheetes, nay diets strong his blood, To giue her height of Hymeneall sweetes. O God! Whilst she lispes, & gives him some court quelquhose Made onely to provoke, not satiate: And yet euen then, the thaw of her delight Flowes from lewde heate of apprehension, Onely from strange imaginations rankenes, That formes the adulterers preence in her soule, And makes her thinke she clips the oule knaes loines. Affliction to my bloods roote. Nay thinke, but thinke what may proceede of this, Adultery is often the mother of icest. Incest. Yes incest: marke, Mendoz of his wife begets perchance a daughter. Mendo die. His son marries this daughter. Say you? Nay tis frequent, not onely probable, but no question often acted, whilst ignorance, fearelesse ignorance claspes his owne seede. Hydeous imagination! Adultery? why next to the sinne of Symony, t'is the most horride transgression vnder the cope of saluation. Next to Simony? I, next to Symony, in which our men in next age shall not sinne.