Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T59: andrea, spain, portugal, tribute, horatio, king, bellimperia, prince, lord, lorenzo.
How stand ye Lords to this election. Right pleasing our dread Sovereign, Only with pardon mighty Sovereign. I should have chose Don Lorenzo. I DONE Rogero, O no, not me my Lords; I am war's Champion, and my fees are swords, Pray king, pray peers, let it be Don Andrea, he's a worthy limb, Loves wars and Soldiers therefore I love him. And I love him, and thee valiant Rogero, Noble spirits, gallant bloods, Your no wise insinuating Lords, You ha' no tricks, you ha' none of all their slights. So, so, Andrea must be sent ambassador, Lorenzo is not thought upon: good. I'll wake the Court, or startle out some blood. How stand you Lords to this election? Right pleasing our dread Sovereign. then Don Andrea. My approved liege. We make thee our Lord high ambassador. Your highness circles me with honours bounds, I still discharge the weight of your command, with best respect, ay friendly tempered phrase, Cannot affect the virtue of your charge, I will be hard like thunder, and as rough, as Northern tempests, or the vexed bowels, Of too insulting waves, who at one blow, Five merchants wealths into the deep doth throw, i'll threaten crimson wars. ay, ay, that's good; Let them keep coin, pay tribute with their blood. Farewell than don Andrea, to thy charge: Lords letes in, joy shallbe now our guest, Let's in to celebrate our second feast. Andrea's gone ambassador; Lorenza is not dreamt on in this age, Hard fate, when villains sit not in the highest state Ambitions plumes that flourished in our court, Severe authority has dashed with justice; And policy, and pride, walk like two exiles Giving attendance, that were once attended; and we rejected that were once high honoured, I hate andrea, cause he aims at honour, when my purest thoughts, work in a pitchy vale, which are as different as heaven and hell, One peers for day, the other gaps for night. That yawning Beldame with her jesty skin, 'tis she I hug as mine effeminate bride, For such complexions best appease my pride: I have a lad in pickle of this stamp, A melancholy discontented courtier Whose famished jaws look like the chap: death Upon whose eye brows hang damnation, Whose hands are washed in rape, and murders bold, Him with a golden bait will I allure, For Courtiers will do any thing for gold, To be Andrea's death at his return: He loves my Sister; that shall cost his life, So she a husband, he shall lose a wife, O sweet, sweet policy, I hug thee, good: Andreas himens draft, shallbe in blood. Whether in such haste my second self. I'faith my dear bosom, to take solemn leave, Of a most weeping creature. That's a woman. That's Bellimperia. See see, she meets you here: And what it is to love? And be loved dear,
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)
How stand ye Lords to this election. Right pleasing our dread Soueraigne, Onely with pardon mighty Soueraigne. I should haue chose Don Lorenzo. I Don Rogero, O no, not me my Lords; I am wars Champion, and my fées are swords, Pray king, pray peeres, let it be Don Andrea, Hees a worthy lim, Loues wars and Souldiers therefore I loue him. And I loue him, and thee valliant Rogero, Noble spyrits, gallant blouds, Your no wise insinnating Lords, You ha no tricks, you ha none of all their slights. So, so, Andrea must be sent imbassador, Lorenzo is not thought vpon: good. Ile wake the Court, or startle out some bloud. How stand you Lords to this election? Right pleasing our dread Soueraigne. then Don Andrea. My aproued leedge. UUe make thee our Lord hie imbassador. Your highnes cirkels me with honors boundes, I still discharg the waight of your command, with best respect, i friendly tempred phraise, Cannot affect the vertue of your charge, I will be hard like thunder, and as rough, as Northerne tempests, or the vext bowels, Of too insulting waues, who at one blow, Fiue marchants wealths into the deepe doth throw, ile threaten crumson wars. I, I, thats good; Let them keepe coine, pay tribute with their bloud. Farwell then don Andrea, to thy chardge: Lordes letes in, ioy shalbe now our guest, Lets in to celebrate our second feast. Andrea's gone embassador; Lorenza is not drempt on in this age, Hard fate, when villaines sit not in the highest state Ambitions plumes that florisht in our court, Seuere authority has dasht with iustice; And pollicy, and pride, walke like two exiles Giuing attendance, that were once attended; and we reiected that were once high honored, I hate andrea, cause he aimes at honor, when my purest thoughts, work in a pitchy vale, which are as different as heauen and hell, One peeres for day, the other gappes for night. That yawning Beldam with her Iestie skin, Tis she I hug as mine effeminate bride, For such complexions best appease my pride: I haue a lad in pikell of this stamp, A melancholy discontented courtier Whose famisht iawes look like the chap of death Upon whose eie browes hang damnation, Whose hands are washt in rape, and murders bould, Him with a goulden baite will I allure, For Courtiers wil doe any thing for gould, To be Andrea's death at his retourne: Hée loues my Sister; that shall cost his life, So shée a husband, he shall lose a wife, O swéete, swéete pollicie, I hugg thée, good: Andreas himens draught, shallbe in bloud. Whether in such hast my second selfe. I'faith my deare bosome, to take solemne leaue, Of a most wéeping creature. Thats a woman. Thats Bellimperia. Sée sée, she méetes you héere: And what it is to loue? And be loued déere,