Middleton, Thomas · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.69 · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Nothing but paper comforts? I looked for my delivery before this, Had they been worth their oaths— prithee be from us. Now what say you forsooth, speak out I pray, Letter. Brother be of good cheer, 'slud it begins like a whore with good cheer, Thou shalt not be long a prisoner. Not five and thirty year like a bankrupt, I think so, We have thought upon a device to get thee out by a trick! By a trick, pox a your trick and it be so long a playing. And so rest comforted, be merry and expect it suddenly! Be merry, hang merry, draw and quarter merry, I'll be mad. Is't not strange that a man should lie in a whole month for a woman, well, we shall see how sudden our brothers: will be in their promise, I must expect still a trick! I shall not be long a prisoner, how now, what news? Bad news my Lord I am discharged of you. Slave call'st thou that bad news, I thank you brothers. My Lord 'twill prove so, here come the Officers, Into whose hands I must commit you. Ha, Officers what, why? You must pardon us my Lord, Our Office must be sound, here is our warrant The signet from the Duke, you must straight suffer. Suffer? i'll suffer you to be gone, i'll suffer you, To come no more, what would you have me suffer? My Lord those words were better changed to prayers, The times but brief with you, prepare to die. Sure 'tis not so. It is too true my Lord. I tell you 'tis not, for the Duke my father, Defend me till next sitting, and I look E'en every minute threescore times an hour, For a release, a trick wrought by my brothers. A trick my Lord? if you expect such comfort, Your hopes as fruitless as a barren woman: Your brothers were the unhappy messengers, That brought this powerful token for your death. My brothers, no, no. 'tis most true my Lord. My brothers to bring a warrant for my death How strange this shows? There's no delaying time. Desire 'em hither, call 'em up, my brothers? They shall deny it to your faces. My Lord, They're far enough by this, at least at Court, And this most strict command they left behind 'em, When grief swum in their eyes, they showed like brothers, Brimful of heavy sorrow: but the Duke Must have his pleasure. His pleasure? These were their last words which my memory bears, Commend us to the Scaffold in our tears. Pox dry their tears, what should I do with tears? I hate 'em worse than any citizens son Can hate salt water; here came a letter now, New-bleeding from their Pens, scarce stinted yet, Would lde been torn in pieces when I tore it, Look you officious whoresons words of comfort, Not long a Prisoner.
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)
Nothing but paper comforts? I look'd for my deliuery before this, Had they beene worth their oths—prethee be from vs. Now what say you forsooth, speake out I pray, Letter. Brother be of good cheere, Slud it begins like a whore with good cheere, Thou shalt not be long a prisoner. Not fiue and thirty yeare like a banqrout, I thinke so, We haue thought vpon a deuice to get thee out by a tricke! By a tricke, pox a your tricke and it be so long a playing. And so rest comforted, be merry and expect it suddaynely! Be merry, hang merry, draw and quarter merry, Ile be mad. Ist not strange that a man should lie in a whole month for a woman, well, wee shall see how suddaine our brothers: will bee in their promise, I must expect still a trick! I shall not bee long a prisoner, how now, what newes? Bad newes my Lord I am discharg'd of you. Slaue calst thou that bad newes, I thanke you brothers. My Lord twill proue so, here come the Officers, Into whose hands I must commit you. Ha, Officers what, why? You must pardon vs my Lord, Our Office must be sound, here is our warrant The signet from the Duke, you must straight suffer. Suffer? ile suffer you to be gon, ile suffer you, To come no more, what would you haue me suffer? My Lord those words were better chang'd to praiers, The times but breife with you, prepare to die. Sure tis not so. It is too true my Lord. I tell you tis not, for the Duke my father, Defend me till next sitting, and I looke E'en euery minute threescore times an houre, For a release, a tricke wrought by my brothers. A trick my Lord? if you expect such comfort, Your hopes as fruitlesse as a barren woman: Your brothers were the vnhappy messengers, That brought this powerfull token for your death. My brothers, no, no. Tis most true my Lord. My brothers to bring a warrant for my death How strange this showes? There's no delaying time. Desire e'm hether, call e'm vp, my brothers? They shall deny it to your faces. My Lord, They're far ynough by this, at least at Court, And this most strickt command they left behinde e'm, When griefe swum in their eyes, they show'd like brothers, Brim-full of heauy sorrow: but the Duke Must haue his pleasure. His pleasure? These were their last words which my memory beares, Commend vs to the Scaffold in our teares. Pox drye their teares, what should I do with teares? I hate em worse then any Cittizens sonne Can hate salt water; here came a letter now, New-bleeding from their Pens, scarce stinted yet, Would lde beene torne in peeces when I tore it, Looke you officious whoresons words of comfort, Not long a Prisoner.