Chapman, George · published 1613 · first performed or written 1610 [c.1610-1611] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Whitefriars T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy typicality 0.79 · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
Public good, For marriage makes them, being the public good, And could not be without them. So I say Men public, that is, being sworn-married To the good public, being one body made With the realms body politic, are no more Private, nor can be perjured, though forsworn, More than a widow married, for the act Of generation is for that an harlot, Because for that she was so, being unmarried: An argument a paribus. 'tis a shrewd one. Who hath no faith to men, to God hath none: Retain you that Sir? who said so? 'twas I. Thy own tongue damn thy infidelity. But Captains all you know me nobly borne, Use ye t'assault such men as I with Lackeys. They are no Lackeys sir, but Soldiers, Disguised in Lackeys coats. Sir, we have seen the enemy. avant ye Rascals, hence. Now leave your coats. Let me not see them more. I grieve that virtue lives so undistinguished From vice in any ill, and though the crown Of Sovereign Law; she should be yet her footstool, Subject to censure, all the shame and pain Of all her rigor. Yet false policy Would cover all, being like offenders hid, That (after notice taken where they hide) The more they crouch and stir, the more are spied. I wonder how this chanced you. Some informer, Blood hound to mischief, usher to the Hangman, Thirsty of honour for some huge state act, Perceiving me great with the worthy Guise: And he (I know not why) held dangerous, Made me the desperate organ of his danger, Only with that poor colour: 'tis the common And more than whorelike trick of treachery, And vermin bred to rapine, and to ruin: For which this fault is still to be accused, Since good acts fail, crafts and deceits are used. If it be other never pity me. Sir, we are glad, believe it, and have hope The King will so conceit it. At his pleasure. In mean time, what's your will Lord Lieutenant? To leave your own horse, and to mount the trumpets. It shall be done: this heavily prevents My purposed recreation in these parts; Which now I think on: let me beg you sir, To lend me some one Captain of your Troops, To bear the message of my hapless service, And misery, to my most noble mistress, Countess of Cambray: to whose house this night I promised my repair, and know most truly, With all the ceremonies of her favour, She sure expects me. Think you now on that? On that, sir? ay, and that so worthily, That if the King, in spite of your great service, Would send me instant promise of enlargement, Condition I would set this message by, I would not take it, but had rather die. Your message shall be done sir: I myself Will be for you a messenger of ill. I thank you sir, and doubt not yet to live To quite your kindness. Mean space use your spirit And knowledge for the cheerful patience Of this so strange and sudden consequence.
nodes 1536–1609 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 24 of 39 in this edition
Length
515 words · 681 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T23 — Husbands, wives and jealousycross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.792 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T26 · seed 44: T28 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Publique good, For marriage makes them, being the publique good, And could not be without them. So I say Men publique, that is, being sworne-married To the good publique, being one body made With the Realmes body politique, are no more Priuate, nor can be periur'd, though forsworne, More then a widow married, for the act Of generation is for that an harlot, Because for that shee was so, being vnmarried: An argument a paribus. Tis a shrow'd one. Who hath no faith to men, to God hath none: Retaine you that Sir? who said so? Twas I. Thy owne tongue damne thy infidelitie. But Captaines all you know me nobly borne, Vse yee t'assault such men as I with Lackyes. They are no Lackyes sir, but Souldiers, Disguis'd in Lackyes coates. Sir, wee haue seene the enemie. Auant yee Rascols, hence. Now leaue your coates. Let me not see them more. I grieue that vertue liues so vndistinguisht From vice in any ill, and though the crowne Of Soueraigne Law; shee should be yet her foot-stoole, Subiect to censure, all the shame and paine Of all her rigor. Yet false policie Would couer all, being like offenders hid, That (after notice taken where they hide) The more they crouch and stirre, the more are spide. I vvonder how this chanc'd you. Some informer, Bloud hound to mischiefe, vsher to the Hangman, Thistie of honour for some huge state act▪ Perceiuing me great vvith the vvorthy Guise: And he (I know not vvhy) held dangerous, Made me the desperate organe of his danger, Onely vvith that poore colour: tis the common And more then vvhore-like tricke of treacherie, And vermine bred to rapine, and to ruine: For vvhich this▪ fault is still to be accus'd, Since good acts faile, crafts and deceits are vs'd. If it be other neuer pittie mee. Sir, vve are glad, beleeue it, and haue hope The King vvill so conceit it. At his pleasure. In meane time, vvhat's your vvill Lord Lieutenant? To leaue your owne horse, and to mount the trumpets. It shall be done: this heauily preuents My purpos'd recreation in these parts; Which now I thinke on: let mee begge you sir, To lend me some one Captaine of your Troopes, To beare the message of my haplesse seruice, And misrie, to my most noble mistresse, Countesse of Cambray: to whose house this night I promist my repaire, and know most truely, With all the ceremonies of her fauour, She sure expects mee. Thinke you now on that? On that, sir? I, and that so worthily, That if the King▪ in spight of your great seruice, Would send me instant promise of enlargement, Condition I would set this message by, I would not take it, but had rather die. Your message shall be done sir: I my selfe Will be for you a messenger of ill. I thanke you sir, and doubt not yet to liue To quite your kindnesse. Meane space vse your spirit And knowledge for the chearfull patience Of this so strange and sodaine consequence.