The White Devil (Vittoria Corombona) · chunk 19 of 49
Webster, John · published 1612 · first performed or written 1612 [Winter 1612-1613] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Anne's Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.84 · 471 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Your Champions gone. The wolf may prey the better. My Lord there's great suspicion of the murder, But no sound proof who did it: for my part I do not think she hath a soul so black To act a deed so bloody, if she have, As in cold countries husbandmen plant Vines, And with warm blood manure them, even so One summer she will bear unsavoury fruit, And ere next spring wither both branch and root. The act of blood let pass, only descend, To matter of incontinence. I decern poison, Under your guilded pills. Now the Duke's gone, I will produce a letter, Wherein 'twas plotted, her and you should meet, At an apothecary's summer-house. Down by the river Tiber: view't my Lords: Where after wanton bathing and the heat Of a lascivious banquet.— I pray read it, I shame to speak the rest. Grant I was tempted, Temptation to lust proves not the act, Cast a est quam nemo rogavit, You read his hot love to me, but you want My frosty answer. Frost i'th' dog-days! strange! Condemn you me for that the Duke did love me, So may you blame so me fair and crystal river For that some melancholic distracted man, Hath drowned himself in't. Truly drowned indeed. Sum up my faults I pray, and you shall find, That beauty and gay clothes, a merry heart, And a good stomach to feast, are all, All the poor crimes that you can charge me with: in faith my Lord you might go pistol flies, The sport would be more noble. Very good. But take you your course, it seems you have beggared me And now would fain undo me, I have houses, (first jewels, and a poor remnant of crusadoes, Would those would make you charitable. If the devil Did ever take good shape behold his picture. You have one virtue left, You will not flatter me. Who brought this letter? I am not compelled to tell you. My Lord Duke sent to you a thousand ducats, The twelfth of August. 'Twas to keep your cozen From prison, I paid use for't. I rather think 'Twas Interest for his lust. Who says so but yourself? if you be my accuser Pray cease to be my judge, come from the Bench, Give in your evidence 'gainst me, and let these Be moderators: my Lord Cardinal, Were your intelligencing ears as loving As to my thoughts, had you an honest tongue I would not care though you proclaimed them all. Go to, go to. After your goodly and vainglorious banquet, I'll give you a choke pear. A'your own grafting? You were borne in Venice, honourably descended, From the Vittelli, 'twas my cousin's fate, Ill may I name the hour to marry you, He bought you of your father. Ha?
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)
Your Champions gon. The wolfe may prey the better. My Lord there's great suspition of the murder, But no sound proofe who did it: for my part I do not thinke she hath a soule so blacke To act a deed so bloudy, if shee haue, As in cold countries husband-men plant Vines, And with warme bloud manure them, euen so One summer she will beare vnsauory fruite, And ere next spring wither both branch and roote. The act of bloud let passe, onely descend, To matter of incontinence. I decerne poison, Vnder your guilded pils. Now the Duke's gone, I wil produce a letter, Wherein 'twas plotted, her and you should meete, At an Appoticaries summer-house. Downe by the riuer Tiber: veiw't my Lords: Where after wanton bathing and the heat Of a lasciuious banquet.—I pray read it, I shame to speak the rest. Grant I was tempted, Temptation to lust proues not the act, Cast a est quam nemo rogauit, You reade his hot loue to me, but you want My frosty answere. Frost i'th dog-daies! strange! Condemne you me for that the Duke did loue mee, So may you blame so me faire and christall riuer For that some melancholike distracted man, Hath drown'd himselfe in't. Truly drown'd indeed. Summe vp my faults I pray, and you shall finde, That beauty and gay clothes, a merry heart, And a good stomacke to feast, are all, All the poore crimes that you can charge me with: Infaith my Lord you might go pistoll flyes, The sport would be more noble. Very good. But take you your course, it seemes you haue beggerd me And now would faine vndo me, I haue houses, (first Iewels, and a poore remnant of Crusado's, Would those would make you charitable. If the deuill Did euer take good shape behold his picture. You haue one vertue left, You will not flatter me. Who brought this letter? I am not compel'd to tell you. My Lord Duke sent to you a thousand duckets, The twelfth of August. 'Twas to keepe your cosen From prison, I paid vse for't. I rather thinke 'Twas Interest for his lust. Who saies so but your selfe? if you bee my accuser Pray cease to be my Iudge, come from the Bench, Giue in your euidence 'gainst me, and let these Be moderators: my Lord Cardinall, Were your intelligencing eares as louing As to my thoughts, had you an honest tongue I would not care though you proclaim'd them all. Go to, go to. After your goodly and vaine-glorious banquet, I'le giue you a choake peare. A'your owne grafting? You were borne in Uenice, honourably descended, From the Vittelli, 'twas my cossins fate, Ill may I name the hower to marry you, Hee bought you of your father. Ha?