Day, John · published 1633 · first performed or written 1606 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.78 · 505 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.
I weigh thy cumbrances by my own, for though by the duke's allowance I am her privileged attendant, yet such is the devilishnes of Dametas, that I cannot joy so much access as to confer with her. I can compare my lord & his friend to nothing in the world so fitly, as to a couple of water buckets, for whilst hope winds the one up, despair plunges the other down, whilst I, like a Harlakene in an Italian Comedy, stand making faces at both their follies. Well, since the shape of our proceeding grows so monstrous, le's cast our inventions in a new mould, and having so firm a foundation as this disguise to build upon, le's draw the model, and raise the whole frame of our attempts anew. Indeed, lovers should be conditioned like tyrants, who having the aim of a crown in their eye once, run violently over all lets that intervent their course, and so must we. And so will we, my resolution is already bend, and if I shoot not, the next level I take, Love I beseech thee break thy bow about mine ears, and strike thy horns in my forehead, for married men to hang their cape on. I have met a means fit for my purpose already: Mopsa Dametas only daughter is overshooes in love with me, & to her ●le feign extreme ardour of affection, and make her the shadow under which I'll court the true substance of my divine Hippolita. About it then, I'll sweat my invention to death but I'll overtake thee; but here comes one of my Burrs▪ I must bear his importunity, for no reasonable denial will brush him off. Zelmane. My Liege. My thoughts come like a sail afore the wind, swollen big with news, and thine ears the midwife must deliver me of this burden: my Duchess is sick, heartsick for thee Zelmane. For me? why my Lord, I am no Rosa solis, nor Aqua mirabilis to recover sick folks. Shall I be short with thee? My lady's in love with thee. With me my Lord? With thee my Lady: her amorous glances are her accusers, her very looks write Sonnets in thy commendations, she carves thee at board, and cannot sleep for dreaming on thee in bed, she's turned sun-riser, haunts private walks, and like a disgraced Courtier, studies the Art of melancholy. Now alas good Lady. Nay never pity her, she deserves none, rather le's bend our endeavours to entangle her more. To see the kindness of fortune, who fearing we should be acquainted with solitude in this our 12 month retirement, hath begot a domestical merriment, and made our own thoughts Actors in't, and as bad a Poet as I am, I'll ha' one scene in't of my own invention. Dametas will storm at that, for he cannot abide Poetry should be countenanced; but how is't my Liege? 'tis ready plotted already, and that the Duchess may not find thee unprovided when she comes to court thee.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 452–469 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 15 of 43 in this edition
Length
505 words · 664 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T0 — Court life: dukes, favour and honourcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.781 (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)
I weigh thy combrances by my own, for though by the dukes allowance I am her priviledg'd attendant, yet ſuch is the deviliſhnes of Dametas, that I cannot joy ſo much acceſſe as to confer with her. I can compare my lord & his friend to nothing in the world ſo fitly, as to a couple of water buckets, for whil'ſt hope winds the one up, diſpaire plunges the other down, whil'ſt I, like a Harlakene in an Italian Comoedy, ſtand making faces at both their follies. Well, ſince the ſhape of our proceeding growes ſo monſtrous, lets caſt our inventions in a new mold, and having ſo firme a foundation as this diſguiſe to build upon, lets draw the modell, and raiſe the whole frame of our attempts anew. Indeed, lovers ſhould be condition'd like tyrants, who having the aime of a crowne in their eye once, runne violently over all lets that intervent their courſe, and ſo muſt we. And ſo will we, my reſolution is already bent, and if I ſhoot not, the next levell I take, Love I beſeech thee breake thy bow about mine eares, and ſtrike thy hornes in my forhead, for married men to hang their cap on. I have met a meanes fit for my purpoſe already: Mopſa Dametas onely daughter is overſhooes in love with me, & to her le feigne extreame ardor of affection, and make her the ſhadow under which Ile court the true ſubſtance of my divine Hippolita. About it then, Ile ſweat my invention to death but Ile overtake thee; but heere comes one of my Burres▪ I muſt beare his importunity, for no reaſonable denyall will bruſh him off. Zelmane. My Liege. My thoughts come like a ſaile afore the wind, ſwolne big with news, and thine eares the midwife muſt deliver me of this burden: my Dutcheſſe is ſicke, heart-ſicke for thee Zelmane. For me? why my Lord, I am no Roſa ſolis, nor Aqua mirabilis to recover ſicke folkes. Shall I be ſhort with thee? My Ladie's in love with thee. With me my Lord? With thee my Lady: her amorous glances are her accuſers, her very looks write Sonnets in thy commendations, ſhe carves thee at boord, and cannot ſleepe for dreaming on thee in bed, ſhee's turn'd ſunne-riſer, haunts private walkes, and like a diſgrac'd Courtier, ſtudies the Art of melancholly. Now alas good Lady. Nay never pitty her, ſhe deſerves none, rather lets bend our indeavors to intangle her more. To ſee the kindnes of fortune, who fearing we ſhould be acquainted with ſollitude in this our 12 month retirement, hath begot a domeſticall merriment, and made our own thoughts Actors in't, and as bad a Poet as I am, Ile ha one ſcene in't of my owne invention. Dametas will ſtorme at that, for hee cannot abide Poetry ſhould be countenanc'd; but how is't my Liege? Tis ready plotted already, and that the Dutcheſſe may not find thee unprovided when ſhe comes to court thee.