Markham, Gervase / Machin, Lewis · published 1608 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1608] (Annals) tragicomedy · Children of the King's Revels unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
Fast locked in her bed with a close ward to devour thee my brave parakeet; but hushed no words, there is a calm before the tempest. Tut, tell me of no storms, but direct me to her bed chamber, my noble firelock of a flesh pistol. Fellow thy colours my brave worthy, mount up thy standard, so enter and prosper. Thou hast a rich room, safe locks, sweet sheets, a choice armful, with o the rare, rare thought of imagination. What's this, what's this, doth this Lord Alphonso turn the Orator to an antelope? 'tis more than excellent, And from the juice of this despite I suck Delight more great than all my miseries, Observe, dear eyes observe. Nay go thy way for a camel or a chameleon, thou Mayst compare with all Europe, Africa and Asia, and one that will change tricks, though thou wert worthy to be schoolmaster either to Proteus or Aritine: what an excellent gift did God give unto man when he gave him woman, but how much more when that woman was made fair? but o the most of all when she had wit to use every member of her creation. Well I'll stand to it, their's nothing but beauty, use and old age that puts women of my rank out of request, and yet like old bucklers though few of your gallant cavileres will wear us, yet many of your stolen ruffians will employ us, and that's our comfort still. Was ever heard a bawd more damnable? A very mountebank of wench flesh, an empiric, A dog-leech for the putrefied sores, Of these just-cankerd great ones, O I could Even mad myself with railing at their vices. But hark one knocks, O for the orator, Heavens I beseech thee, O for the orator. How now, who knocks so rudely at the door? 'tis I I say, open the door, I am in haste. 'tis he, just heavens 'tis he, fore God the orator. Soul of my bawdy office, how are we betrayed, Anon, anon sir, what mistress Prate I say? Arise for shame, your husbands at the door, I come, I come, Lord God how dull you are When danger's at your heels, rise quickly. Open the door, or I will break it open. I come, I come, I think he's mad with haste, What John, what Thomas, Robert, where's these knaves, What Julian, Mary, Sisly, near a maid within. For Gods love stay, i'll find the key strait way. O Mistress Coloquintida, what shall become of us? Nay I am at my wit's end, and am made Duller than any spurgald, tired jade. 'Sfoot if he enter, I will break his neck. Not for a world dear love, step into my closet. Did ever slave come thus unluckily? Nay now's no time for passion, good Lord in. Fie I have almost broke my heart with running. How now dear husband, what hath moved this haste?
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)
Fast lockt in her bed with a close ward to deuoure thee my braue Paraquito; but husht no words, there is a calme before the tempest. Tut, tell me of no stormes, but direct me to her bed chamber, my noble firelock of a flesh pistoll. Follow thy colours my braue worthy, mount vp thy standard, so enter and prosper. Thou hast a rich roome, safe locks, sweete sheetes, a choice armefull, with ô the rare, rare thought of imagination. Whats this, whats this, doth this Lord Alphonso turne the Orator to an Antilop? tis more then excellent, And from the iuice of this despight I suck Delight more great then all my miseries, Obserue, deare eies obserue. Nay go thy way for a Camell or a Camelion, thou maist compare with all Europe, Africke and Asia, and one that will change tricks, though thou wert worthy to be schoolmaster either to Proteus or Aritine: what an excellent gift did God giue vnto man when he gaue him woman, but how much more when that woman was made faire? but ô the most of all when she had wit to vse euery member of her creation. Well Ile stand to it, theirs nothing but beautie, vse and old age that puts weomen of my ranck out of request, and yet like old bucklers though fewe of your gallant cauileres will weare vs, yet many of your stale Ruffins will imploy vs, and thats our comfort still. Was euer heard a baude more damnable? A very mountebanke of wench flesh, an Emperick, A dog-leech for the putrefied sores, Of these Iust-cankerd great ones, O I could Euen mad my selfe with railing at their vices. But hearke one knocks, O for the orator, Heauens I beseech thee, O for the orator. How now, who knocks so rudely at the dore? Tis I I say, open the dore, I am in hast. Tis he, iust heauens tis he, fore God the orator. Soule of my bawdie office, how are wee betraid, Anon, anon sir, what Mistres Prate I say? Arise for shame, your husbands at the dore, I come, I come, Lord God how dull you are When danger's at your heeles, rise quickly. Open the dore, or I wil breake it ope. I come, I come, I thinke hee's mad with hast, What Iohn, what Thomas, Robert, wher's these knaues, What Iulian, Mary, Sislie, neere a maid within. For Gods loue stay, ile find the key straight way. O mistres Coloquintida, what shall become of vs? Nay I am at my wits end, and am made Duller then any spurgald, tired Iade. Sfoote if he enter, I will breake his neck. Not for a world deare loue, step into my closet. Did euer slaue come thus vnluckily? Nay now's no time for passion, good Lord in. Fy I haue almost broke my hart with running. How now deare husbād, what hath moued this hast?