Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) comedy · King's Men T13 Knights, squires and ladies typicality 0.86 · 510 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
Your gallant wife, sir. Now, is he gone: we had no other means, To shoot him hence, but this. My divine MOSCA! Thou hast today outgone thyself. Who's there? I will be troubled with no more. Prepare Me music, dances, banquets, all delights; The Turk is not more sensual, in his pleasures, Then will VOLPONE. Let me see, a pearl? A diamant? plate? cecchines? good morning's purchase; Why, this is better than rob churches, yet: Or fat, by eating (once a month) a man. Who is't? The beauteous lady WOULD-BEE, sir. Wife, to the English Knight, Sir Politique WOULD-BEE, (This is the style, sir, is directed me) Hath sent to know, how you have slept tonight, And if you would be visited. Not, now. Some three hours, hence— I told the Squire, so much. When I am high with mirth, and wine: then, then. 'Fore heaven, I wonder at the desperate valour Of the bold English, that they dare let lose Their wives, to all encounters! Sir, this knight Had not his name for nothing, he is politic, And knows, howe'er his wife affect strange airs, She hath not yet the face, to be dishonest. But, had she signor CORVINO'S wives face— Has she so rare a face? O, sir, the wonder, The blazing star of Italie! a wench O' the first year! a beauty, ripe, as harvest! Whose skin is whiter than a swan, all over! Then silver, snow, or lilies! a soft lip, Would tempt you to eternity of kissing! And flesh, that melteth, in the touch, to blood! Bright as your gold! and lovely, as your gold! Why had not I known this, before? Alas, sir. myself, but yesterday, discovered it. How might I see her? O, not possible; she's kept as warily, as is your gold: Never does come abroad, never takes air, But at a window. All her looks are sweet, As the first grapes, or cherries: and are watched As near, as they are. I must see her— Sir. There is a guard, of ten spies thick, upon her; All his whole household: each of which is set Upon his fellow, and have all their charge, When he goes out, when he comes in, examined. I will go see her, though but at her window. In some disguise, then. That is true. I must Maintain mine own shape, still, the same: we'll think. SIr, to a wise man, all the world's his soil. It is not Italie, nor France, nor Europe, That must bound me, if my fates call me forth. Yet, I protest, it is no salt desire Of seeing countries, shifting a religion, Nor any disaffection to the state Where I was bred (and, unto which I owe My dearest plots) hath brought me out; much less, That idle, antic, stale, grey-headed project Of knowing men's minds, and manners, with Ulysses: But, a peculiar humour of my wives, Laid for this height of Venice, to observe, To quote, to learn the language, and so forth— I hope you travel, sir, with licence?
seed 43: T20 · seed 44: T17 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Your gallant wife, sir. Now, is he gone: we had no other meanes, To shoot him hence, but this. My diuine MOSCA! Thou hast to day out-gone thy selfe. Who's there? I will be troubled with no more. Prepare Me musicke, dances, banquets, all delights; The Turke is not more sensuall, in his pleasures, Then will VOLPONE. Let mee see, a pearle? A diamant? plate? cecchines? good mornings purchase; Why, this is better then rob churches, yet: Or fat, by eating (once a mon'th) a man. Who is't? The beauteous lady WOVLD-BEE, sir. Wife, to the English Knight, Sir POLITIQVE WOVLD-BEE, (This is the stile, sir, is directed mee) Hath sent to know, how you haue slept to night, And if you would be visited. Not, now. Some three houres, hence— I told the Squire, so much. When I am high with mirth, and wine: then, then. 'Fore heauen, I wonder at the desperate valure Of the bold English, that they dare let loose Their wiues, to all encounters! Sir, this knight Had not his name for nothing, he is politique, And knowes, how ere his wife affect strange aires, Shee hath not yet the face, to be dishonest. But, had shee signior CORVINO'S wiues face— Has shee so rare a face? O, sir, the wonder, The blazing starre of Italie! a wench O' the first yeere! a beautie, ripe, as haruest! Whose skin is whiter then a swan, all ouer! Then siluer, snow, or lillies! a soft lip, Would tempt you to eternitie of kissing! And flesh, that melteth, in the touch, to bloud! Bright as your gold! and louely, as your gold! Why had not I knowne this, before? Alas, sir. My selfe, but yesterday, discouer'd it. How might I see her? O, not possible; Shee's kept as warily, as is your gold: Neuer do's come abroad, neuer takes ayre, But at a windore. All her lookes are sweet, As the first grapes, or cherries: and are watch'd As neere, as they are. I must see her— Sir. There is a guard, of ten spies thick, vpon her; All his whole houshold: each of which is set Vpon his fellow, and haue all their charge, When he goes out, when he comes in, examin'd. I will goe see her, though but at her windore. In some disguise, then. That is true. I must Maintayne mine owne shape, still, the same: wee'll thinke. SIr, to a wise man, all the world's his soile. It is not Italie, nor France, nor Europe, That must bound me, if my fates call me forth. Yet, I protest, it is no salt desire Of seeing countries, shifting a religion, Nor any dis-affection to the state Where I was bred (and, vnto which I owe My dearest plots) hath brought me out; much lesse, That idle, antique, stale, grey-headed proiect Of knowing mens minds, and manners, with VLYSSES: But, a peculiar humour of my wiues, Laid for this height of Venice, to obserue, To quote, to learne the language, and so forth— I hope you trauell, sir, with license?