Middleton, Thomas · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.86 · 469 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Thence flew sweet comfort, earnest and farewell. Oh one incestuous kiss picks open hell. Faith now old Duke; my vengeance shall reach high, I'll arm thy brow with woman's Heraldry. Duke, thou didst do me wrong, and by thy Act Adultery is my nature; Faith if the truth were known, I was begot After some gluttonous dinner, some stirring dish Was my first father; when deep healths went round, And ladies' cheeks were painted red with Wine, Their tongues as short and nimble as their heels Uttering words sweet and thick; and when they rise, Were merrily disposed to fall again, In such a whispering and withdrawing hour, When base-male-Bawds kept sentinel at stairhead Was I stolen softly; oh— damnation met The sin of feasts, drunken adultery. I feel it swell me; my revenge is just, I was begot in impudent Wine and Lust: Stepmother I consent to thy desires, I love thy mischief well, but I hate thee, And those three Cubs thy sons, wishing confusion Death and disgrace may be their Epitaphs, As for my brother the Duke's only son, Whose birth is more beholding to report Than mine, and yet perhaps as falsely sown. (Women must not be trusted with their own) I'll lose my days upon him hate all I, Duke on thy brow I'll draw my Bastardy. For indeed a bastard by nature should make Cuckolds, Because he is the son of a Cuckold-maker. What brother? am I far enough from myself? As if another man had been sent whole Into the world, and none wist how he came. It will confirm me bold: the child a th' Court, Let blushes dwell i'th' Country impudence! Thou Goddess of the palace, mistress of Mistresses To whom the costly perfumed-people pray, Strike thou my forehead into dauntless Marble; Mine eyes to steady sapphires: turn my visage, And if I must needs glow, let me blush inward That this immodest season may not spy, That scholar in my cheeks, fool bashfulness. That Maid in the old time, whose flush of Grace Would never suffer her to get good clothes; Our maids are wiser; and are less ashamed, Save Grace the bawd I seldom hear Grace named! Nay brother you reach out a'th' Verge now,— 'sfoot the Duke's son, settle your looks. Pray let me not be doubted. My Lord— Hipolito?— be absent leave us. My Lord after long search, wary inquiries And politic siftings, I made choice of yond fellow, Whom I guess rare for many deep employments; This our age swims within him: and if Time Had so much hair, I should take him for Time, He is so near kin to this present minute? 'tis enough. We thank thee: yet words are but great-men's blanks Gold though it be dumb does utter the best thanks.
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)
Thence flew sweet comfort, earnest and farewell. Oh one incestuous kisse picks open hell. Faith now old Duke; my vengeance shall reach high, Ile arme thy brow with womans Herauldrie. Duke, thou didst do me wrong, and by thy Act Adultery is my nature; Faith if the truth were knowne, I was begot After some gluttonous dinner, some stirring dish Was my first father; when deepe healths went round, And Ladies cheekes were painted red with Wine, Their tongues as short and nimble as their heeles Vttering words sweet and thick; and when they rise, Were merrily disposd to fall agen, In such a whispring and with-drawing houre, When base-male-Bawds kept Centinell at staire-head Was I stolne softly; oh—damnation met The sinne of feasts, drunken adultery. I feele it swell me; my reuenge is iust, I was begot in impudent Wine and Lust: Step-mother I consent to thy desires, I loue thy mischiefe well, but I hate thee, And those three Cubs thy sonnes, wishing confusion Death and disgrace may be their Epitaphs, As for my brother the Dukes onely sonne, Whose birth is more beholding to report Then mine, and yet perhaps as falsely sowne. (Women must not be trusted with their owne) Ile loose my dayes vpon him hate all I, Duke on thy browe Ile drawe my Bastardie. For indeed a bastard by nature should make Cuckolds, Because he is the sonne of a Cuckold-maker. What brother? am I farre inough from my selfe? As if another man had beene sent whole Into the world, and none wist how he came. It wil confirme me bould: the child a th Court, Let blushes dwelli'th Country impudence! Thou Goddesse of the pallace, Mistrs of Mistesses To whom the costly perfumd-people pray, Strike thou my fore-head into dauntlesse Marble; Mine eyes to steady Saphires: turne my visage, And if I must needes glow, let me blush inward That this immodest season may not spy, That scholler in my cheekes, foole bashfullnes. That Maide in the old time, whose flush of Grace Would neuer suffer her to get good cloaths; Our maides are wiser; and are lesse ashamd, Saue Grace the bawde I seldome heare Grace nam'd! Nay brother you reach out a'th Verge now,—Sfoote the Dukes sonne, settle your lookes. Pray let me not be doubted. My Lord— Hipolito?—be absent leaue vs. My Lord after long search, wary inquiryes And politick siftings, I made choise of yon fellow, Whom I gesse rare for many deepe imployments; This our age swims within him: and if Time Had so much hayre, I should take him for Time, He is so neere kinne to this present minute? Tis ynough. We thanke thee: yet words are but great-mens blanckes Gold tho it be dum do's vtter the best thankes.