The Gentleman Usher (Vincentio and Margaret) · chunk 3 of 42
Chapman, George · published 1606 · first performed or written 1606 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (second) or Children of Paul’s (second) T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.76 · 469 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
ay, there's a parcel of unconstrued stuff, That unknown Minion raised to honour's height, Without the help of Virtue, or of Art, Or (to say true) nay of honest part: O how she shames my father! he goes like A PRINCE's footman, in old fashioned silks, And most times, in his hose and doublet only, So miserable, that his own few men Do beg by virtue of his livery; For he gives none for any service done him, Or any honour, any least reward. 'tis pity such should live about a Prince: I would have such a noble counterfeit, nailed Upon the Pillory, and after, whipped For his adultery with nobility, Faith I would fain disgrace him by all means, As enemy to his base-bred ignorance, That being a great Lord, cannot write nor read. For that, we'll follow the blind side of him, And make it sometimes subject of our mirth. See, what news with your Nephew Pogio? None good I warrant you. Where should I find my Lord Uncle? What's the huge haste with you? O ho, you will hunt today. I hope I will. But you may hap to hop without your hope: for the truth is, Kilbucke is run mad. What's this? Nay, 'tis true sir: and Kilbucke being run mad, bit Ringwood so by the left buttock, you might have turned your nose in it. Out Ass. By heaven you might my Lord: d''ee think I he? 'Zounds, might I? let's blanket him my Lord: a blanket here. Nay, good my Lord Vincentio, by this rush I tell you for good will: and Venus your brach there, runs so proud, that your Hunt's man cannot take her down for his life. Take her up fool, thou wouldst say. Why sir, he would soon take her down and he could take her up I warrant her. Well said, ham mer, hammer. Nay, good now let's alone, and there's your horse, Grey Strozza too has the staggers, and has struck bay. Bettrice, your Barbary mare so, that she goes halting a this fashion, most filthily. What poison blisters thy unhappy tongue Evermore braying forth unhappy news, Our hunting sport is at the best my Lord: How shall I satisfy the Duke your father, Defrauding him of his expected sport? See, see, he comes. Is this the copy of the speech you wrote, Signieur Sarpego? It is a blaze of wit poetical, Read it, brave Duke, with eyes pathetical. We will peruse it straight: well met Vincentio, And good Lord Strozza, we commend you both For your attendance: but you must conceive, 'tis no true hunting we intend today, But an inducement to a certain show, Wherewith we will present our beauteous love, And therein we bespeak your company. We both are ready to attend your Highness.
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)
I, theres a parcell of vnconstrued stuffe, That vnknowne Minion raisde to honours height, Without the helpe of Vertue, or of Art, Or (to say true) nay of honest part: O how she shames my father! he goes like A Princes foote-man, in old fashioned silkes, And most times, in his hose and dublet onely, So miserable, that his owne few men Doe beg by vertue of his liuerie; For he giues none for any seruice done him, Or any honour, any least reward. Tis pittie such should liue about a Prince: I would haue such a noble counterset, nailde Vpon the Pillory, and after, whipt For his adultery with nobilitie, Faith I would faine disgrace him by all meanes, As enemy to his base-bred ignorance, That being a great Lord, cannot write nor reade. For that, weelle follow the blinde side of him, And make it sometimes subiect of our mirth. See, what newes with your Nephew Pogio? None good I warrant you. Where should I finde my Lord Vnckle? Whats the huge haste with you? O ho, you will hunt to day. I hope I will. But you may hap to hop without your hope: for the truth is, Kilbucke is runne mad. Whats this? Nay, t'is true sir: and Kibucke being runne mad, bit Ringwood so by the left buttocke, you might haue turnd your nose in it. Out Asse. By heauen you might my Lord: d'ee thinke I he? Zwoundes, might I? lets blanket him my Lord: a blanket heere. Nay, good my Lord Vincentio, by this rush I tel you for good will: and Venus your brache there, runnes so prowd, that your Hunts man cannot take her downe for his life. Take her vp foole, thou wouldst say. Why sir, he would soone take her down and he could take her vp I warrant her. Well said, ham mer, hammer. Nay, good now lets alone, and theres your horse, Gray Strozza too haz the staggers, and haz strooke bay. Bettrice, your Barbary mare so, that shee goes halting a this fashion, most filthily. What poison blisters thy vnhappy tongue Euermore braying forth vnhappy newes, Our hunting sport is at the best my Lord: How shall I satisfie the Duke your father, Defrauding him of his expected sport? See, see, he comes. Is this the copie of the speech you wrote, Signieur Sarpego? It is a blaze of wit pocticall, Reade it, braue Duke, with eyes pathetical. We will peruse it strait: well met Vinetio, And good Lord Strozza, we commend you both For your attendance: but you must conceiue, Tis no true hunting we intend to day, But an inducement to a certaine shew, Wherewith we will present our beateous loue, And therein we bespeake your company. We both are ready to attend your Highnesse.