Chapman, George · published 1607 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) tragedy · Children of Paul's (second) · Paul's unassigned nearest T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour · 470 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Is this your portion? even this my Lord. Believe me I cannot riddle it. No my Lord, 'tis my chastity, which you shall neither riddle nor fiddle. Your chastity? let me begin with the end of you; how is a woman's chastity nearest a man, when 'tis furthest off? Why my Lord, when you cannot get it, it goes toth' heart on you; and that I think comes most near you: and I am sure it shall be far enough off; and so I leave you to my mercy. Farewell riddle. Farewell Medlar. Farewell winter plum. Now my Lords, what fruit of our inquisition? feel you nothing budding yet? Speak good my Lord Montsurry. Nothing but this: D'Ambois is negligent in observing the Duchess, and therefore she is suspicious that your Niece or my wife closely entertains him. Your wife, my Lord? Think you that possible? Alas, I know she flies him like her last hour. Her last hour? why that comes upon her the more she flies it: Does D'Ambois so think you? That's not worth the answering: 'tis horrible to think with what monsters women's imaginations engross them when they are once enamoured, and what wonders they will work for their satisfaction. They will make a sheep valiant, a Lion fearful. And an Ass confident, my Lord, 'tis true, and more will come forth shortly, get you to the banquet. O the unfounded Sea of women's bloods, That when 'tis calmest, is most dangerous; Not any wrinkle creaming in their faces, When in their hearts are Scylla and Charybdis, Which still are hid in monster-formed clouds, Where never day shines, nothing ever grows, But weeds and poisons, that no statesman knows; Not Cerberus ever saw the damned nooks Hid with the veils of women's virtuous looks: I will conceal all yet, and give more time To D'Ambois trial, now upon my hook; He awes my throat; else like Sibylla's Cave It should breathe oracles; I fear him strangely, And may resemble his advanced valour Unto a spirit raised without a circle, Endangering him that ignorantly raised him, And for whose fury he hath learned no limit. How now, what leapest thou at? O royal object. Thou dreamest awake: Object in th'empty air? Worthy the head of Titan, worth his chair. Pray thee what mean'st thou? See you not a Crown Impale the forehead of the great King Monsieur? O fie upon thee. Sir, that is the Subject Of all these your retired and sole discourses. Wilt thou not leave that wrongful supposition? This still hath made me doubt thou dost not love me. Wilt thou do one thing for me then sincerely? ay, any thing, but killing of the King. Still in that discord, and ill taken note? Come, do not doubt me, and command me all things.
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)
Is this your portion? Euen this my Lord. Beleeue me I cannot riddle it. No my Lord, tis my chastity, which you shall neither riddle nor fiddle. Your chastity? let me begin with the end of you; how is a womans chastitie neerest a man, when tis furthest off? Why my Lord, when you cannot get it, it goes toth' heart on you; and that I thinke comes most neere you: and I am sure it shall bee farre enough off; and so I leaue you to my mercy. Farewell riddle. Farewell Medlar. Farewell winter plum. Now my Lords, what fruit of our inquisition? feele you nothing budding yet? Speake good my Lord Mountsurry. Nothing but this: D'Ambois is negligent in obseruing the Duchesse, and therefore she is suspicious that your Neece or my wife closely entertaines him. Your wife, my Lord? Thinke you that possible? Alas, I know she flies him like her last houre. Her last houre? why that comes vpon her the more she flies it: Does D'Ambois so thinke you? Thats not worth the answering: Tis horrible to think with what monsters womens imaginations engrosse them when they are once enamour'd, and what wonders they will worke for their satisfaction. They will make a sheepe valiant, a Lion fearefull. And an Asse confident, my Lord, tis true, and more will come forth shortly, get you to the banquet. O the vnfounded Sea of womens bloods, That when tis calmest, is most dangerous; Not any wrincle creaming in their faces, When in their hearts are Scylla and Charibdis, Which still are hid in monster-formed cloudes, Where neuer day shines, nothing euer growes, But weeds and poisons, that no states-man knowes; Not Cerberus euer saw the damned nookes Hid with the vailes of womens vertuous lookes: I will conceale all yet, and giue more time To D'Ambois triall, now vpon my hooke; He awes my throat; else like Sybillas Caue It should breath oracles; I feare him strangely, And may resemble his aduanced valour Vnto a spirit rais'd without a circle, Endangering him that ignorantly rais'd him, And for whose furie he hath learn'd no limit. How now, what leap'st thou at? O royall obiect. Thou dream'st awake: Obiect in th'emptie aire? Worthie the head of Titan, worth his chaire. Pray thee what mean'st thou? See you not a Croune Empale the forehead of the great King Monsieur? O fie vpon thee. Sir, that is the Subiect Of all these your retir'd and sole discourses. Wilt thou not leaue that wrongfull supposition? This still hath made me doubt thou dost not loue me. Wilt thou doe one thing for me then syncerelie? I, any thing, but killing of the King. Still in that discord, and ill taken note? Come, doe not doubt me, and command mee all things.