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 0.73 · 491 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.
Alas calamity, is every where. Sad misery despite your double doors, Will enter even in court. Peace. I ha' done? one word, take heed, I ha' done. Cillenian Mercury, the God of ghosts, From gloomy shades that spread the lower coasts, Calls sour high famed Genoan Dukes to come And make this presence their Elysium: To pass away this high triumphal night, With song and dances, courts more soft delight. Are you God of ghosts, I have a suit depending in hell betwixt me and my conscience, I would fain have thee help me to an advocate. Mercury shall be your lawyer, Lady. Nay faith, Mercury has too good a face, to be a right lawyer. Peace, forbear: Mercury presents the mask. Celso, Celso, count Maria for our love; Lady, be gracious, yet grace. With me Sir? Yes, more loved than my breath: With you I'll dance. Why then you dance with death, But come Sir, I was near more apt to mirth. Death gives eternity a glorious breath: O, to die honoured, who would fear to die. They die in fear, who live in villainy. Yes believe him Lady, and be ruled by him. Madam, with me? Wouldst then be miserable? I need not wish. O yet forbear my hand, away, fly, fly, O seek not her, that only seeks to die. Poor loved soul. What, wouldst court misery? Yes. she'll come too soon, O my grieved heart! Lady, ha' done, ha' done. Come, let's dance, be once from sorrow free. Art a sad man. Yes sweet. Then we'll agree. Believe it Lady, shall I swear, let me enjoy you in private, and I'll marry you by my soul. I had rather you would swear by your body: I think that would prove the more regarded oath with you. I'll swear by them both, to please you. O, damn them not both to please me, for God's sake. Faith, sweet creature, let me enjoy you to night, and I'll marry you to morrow fortnight, by my troth la. On his troth la, believe him not, that kind of coney-catching is as stale as sir Oliver Anchovies persumde jerkin: promise of matrimony by a young gallant, to bring a virgin Lady into a fools paradise: make her a great woman, and then cast her off: 'tis as common as natural to a Courtier, as jealousy to a Citizen, gluttony ot a Puritan, wisdom to an Alderman, pride to a Tailor, or an empty hand-basket to one of these sixpeny damnations: of his troth la, believe him not, traps to catch polecats. Keep your face constant, let no sudden passion speak in your eyes. O my Altofront. A tyrant's jealousies are very nimble, you receive it all. My heart, though not my knees, doth umbly fall, Low as the earth to thee. Peace, next change, no words. Speech to such, ay, O what will affords? Malevole? No. Altofront, Duke Pietro, Ferneze. hah?
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1447–1502 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 37 of 38 in this edition
Length
491 words · 700 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T0 — Court life: dukes, favour and honourcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.729 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Alas calamity, is euery where. Sad miserie dispight your double doores, Will enter euen in court. Peace. I ha done? one word, take heede, I ha done. Cillenian Mercurie, the God of ghosts, From gloomie shades that spread the lower coasts, Calls soure high samed Genoan Dukes to come And make this presence their Elizium: To passe away this high triumphall night, With song and daunces, courts more soft delight. Are you God of ghosts, I haue a sute depending in hell betwixt me and my conscience, I would faine haue thee helpe me to an aduocate. Mercurie shall be your lawyer, Lady. Nay faith, Mercurie haz too good a face, to be a right lawyer. Peace, forbeare: Mercurie presents the maske. Celso, Celso, count Maria for our loue; Lady, be gratious, yet grace. With me Sir? Yes, more loued then my breath: With you Ile dance. Why then you dance with death, But come Sir, I was nere more apt to mirth. Death giues eternity a glorious breath: O, to die honourd, who would feare to die. They die in feare, who liue in villany. Yes beleeue him Lady, and be rulde by him. Madam, with me? Wouldst then be miserable? I neede not wish. O yet forbeare my hand, away, fly, fly, O seeke not her, that onely seekes to die. Poore loued soule. What, wouldst court misery? Yes. Sheele come too soone, O my grieu'd heart! Lady, ha done, ha done. Come, lets dance, be once from sorrow free. Art a sad man. Yes sweet. Then weele agree. Beleeue it Lady, shall I sweare, let me injoy you in priuate, and Ile mary you by my soule. I had rather you would sweare by your body: I thinke that would proue the more regarded othe with you. Ile sweare by them both, to please you. O, dam them not both to please me, for Gods sake. ath, sweet creature, let me injoy you to night, and Ile mary you to morow fortnight, by my troth la. On his troth la, beleeue him not, that kinde of cunnicaching is as stale as sir Oliuer Anchoues persumde ierken: promise of matrimony by a yong gallant, to bring a virgin Lady into a fooles paradise: make her a great woman, and then cast her off: tis as common as naturall to a Courtier, as ielosie to a Citizen, gluttony ot a Puritan, wisdome to an Alderman, pride to a Tayler, or an empty handbasket to one of these sixpeny damnations: of his troth la, beleeue him not, traps to catch polecats. Keepe your face constant, let no suddaine passion speake in your eies. O my Altofront. A tyrants jelosies are very nimble, you receiue it all. My heart, though not my knees, doth vmbly fall, Lowe as the earth to thee. Peace, next change, no words. Speach to such, ay, O what will affordes? Maleuole? No. Altofront, Duke Pietro, Ferneze. hah?