Jonson, Ben · published 1609 · first performed or written 1597 [1597-1598; interpolations later] (Annals) comedy · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Silent? Count Ferneze, I tell thee if Amurath the great Turk were here I would speak, and he should hear me. So will not I. By my father's hand, but thou shalt Count, I say till this instant, I was never touched in my reputation: hear me you shall know that you have wronged me, and I will make you acknowledge it, if I cannot my sword shall. By heaven I will not, I will stop mine ears, My senses loathe the Saviour of thy breath. 'tis poison to me, I say I will not hear. What shall I know, 'tis you have injured me, What will you make? make me acknowledge it. Fetch forth that Gasper, that lewd counterfeit. I'll make him to your face approve your wrongs. Come on false substance, shadow to Chamont: Had you none else to work upon but me, Was I your fittest project? well confess, What you intended by this secret plot. And by whose policy it was contrived, Speak truth, and be entreated courteously, But double with me, and resolve to prove The extremest rigor that I can inflict. My honoured Lord, hear me with patience, Nor hope of favour, not the fear of torment, Shall sway my tongue, from uttering of a truth. 'tis well, proceed then. The morn before this battle did begin, Wherein my Lord Chamount and I were ta'en, We vowed one mutual fortune, good or bad, That day should be embraced of us both, And urging that might worst succeed our vow, We there concluded to exchange our names. Then Maximilian took you for Chamount. True noble Lord. 'tis false, ignoble wretch, 'twas but a complot to betray my son. Count, thou liest in thy bosom, Count: Lie? Nay I beseech you honoured gentlemen, Let not the untimely ruin of your love, Follow these sleight occurrents; be assured Chamount's return will heal these wounds again, And break the points of your too piercing thoughts. Return? I when? when will Chamount return? he'll come to fetch you, will he? I 'tis like, you'd have methink so, that's your policy. No, no, young gallant, your device is stale, You cannot feed me with so vain a hope. My Lord, I feed you not with a vain hope, I know assuredly he will return, And bring your noble son along with him. ay, I dare pawn my soul he will return. O impudent derision? open scorn? Intolerable wrong? is't not enough? That you have played upon me all this while; But still to mock me, still to jest at me? fellows, away with him, thou ill-bred slave, That sets no difference twixt a noble spirit, And thy own slavish humour, do not think But i'll take worthy vengeance on thee, wretch? Alas, these threats are idle, like the wind, And breed no terror in a guiltless mind. Nay, thou shalt want no torture, so resolve, bring him away. Welcome the worst, I suffer for a friend, Your tortures will, my love shall never end.
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)
Silent? Count Ferneze, I tell thee if Amurath the great Turke were here I would ſpeake, and he ſhould here me. So will not I. By my fathers hand, but thou ſhalt Count, I ſay till this inſtant, I was neuer toucht in my reputation: here me you ſhall knowe that you haue wrongd me, and I will make you acknowledge it, if I cannot my ſword ſhall. By heauen I will not, I will ſtop mine eares, My ſences loath the Sauiour of thy breath. Tis poyſon to me, I ſay I will not heare. What ſhall I know, tis you haue iniurd me, What will you make? make me acknowledge it. Fetch forth that Gaſper, that lewd counterfeit. Ile make him to your face approue your wrongs. Come on falſe ſubſtance, ſhadow to Chamont: Had you none elſe to worke vpon but me, Was I your fitteſt proiect? well confeſſe, What you intended by this ſecret plot. And by whoſe policy it was contriu'd, Speake truth, and be intreated courteouſly, But double with me, and reſolue to proue The extremeſt rigor that I can inflict. My honor'd Lord, heare me with patience, Nor hope of fauour, not the feare of torment, Shall ſway my tongue, from vttring of a truth. Tis well, proceed then. The morne before this battell did begin, Wherein my Lord Chamount and I were tane, We vow'd one mutuall fortune, good or bad, That day ſhould be imbraced of vs both, And vrging that might worſt ſucceede our vow, We there concluded to exchange our names. Then Maximilian tooke you for Chamount. True noble Lord. Tis falſe, ignoble wretch, Twas but a complot to betray my ſonne. Count, thou lyeſt in thy boſome, Count▪ Lye? Nay I beſeech you honor'd gentlemen, Let not the vntimely ruine of your loue, Follow theſe ſleight occurents; be aſſured Chamounts returne will heale theſe wounds againe, And breake the points of your too piercing thoughts. Returne? I when? when will Chamount returne? Heele come to fetch you, will he? I tis like, Youl'd haue me thinke ſo, that's your policy. No, no, yong gallant, your deuice is ſtale, You cannot feed me with ſo vaine a hope. My Lord, I feede you not with a vaine hope, I know aſſuredly he will returne, And bring your noble ſonne along with him. I, I dare pawne my ſoule he will returne. O impudent diriſion? open ſcorne? Intollerable wrong? is't not inough? That you haue plaid vpon me all this while; But ſtill to mocke me, ſtill to ieſt at me? Fellowes, away with him, thou ill-bred ſlaue, That ſets no difference twixt a noble ſpirit, And thy owne ſlauiſh humour, do not thinke But ile take worthy vengeance on thee, wretch? Alas, theſe threats are idle, like the wind, And breed no terror in a guiltleſſe mind. Nay, thou ſhalt want no torture, ſo reſolue, bring him away. Welcome the worſt, I ſuffer for a friend, Your tortures will, my loue ſhall neuer end.