Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1619 · first performed or written 1610 [c.1610-1611] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
These strange and sudden injuries have fallen So thick upon me, that I lose all sense Of what they are, methinks I am not wronged, Nor is it ought, if from the censuring world I can but hide it— reputation Thou art a word, no more, but thou hast shown An impudence so high, that to the world I fear thou wilt betray or shame thyself. To cover shame, I took thee never fear, That I would blaze myself. Nor let the King Know I conceive he wrongs me, than mine honour Will thrust me into action, that my flesh Could bear with patience, and it is some ease To me in these extremes, that I know this Before I touched thee, else had all the sins Of mankind stood betwixt me and the King, I had gone through, e'en to his heart and thine I have left one desire, 'tis not his crown Shall buy me to thy bed, now I resolve He has dishonoured thee, give me thy hand, Be careful of thy credit, and sin close 'tis all I wish, upon thy chamber flower I'll rest tonight, that morning visitors May think we did as married people use, And prithee smile upon me when they come, And seem to toy as if thou hadst been pleased With what I did. Fear not, I will do this. Come let us practise, and as wanton As ever longing bride and bridegroom met, Let's laugh and enter here. I am content. Down all the swellings of my troubled heart, When we walk thus entwined let all eyes see, If ever lovers better did agree. Away you are not, force it no further, Good, good, how well you look, such a full colour Young bashful brides put on, sure you are new married. Yes madam to your grief. Alas poor wenches Go learn to love first, learn to lose yourselves, Learn to be flattered, and believe and bless The double tongue that did it, Did you ere love yet wenches, speak Olimpas, Thou hast a mettled temper, fit for stamp. Never. Nor you Antiphila. Near I. Then my good girls be more than women wise At least, be more than I was, come let's be sad my girls, That down cast of thine eye Olimpias, Shows a feigned sorrow; mark Antiphila, Just such another was the Nymph Oenone's, When Paris brought home Helen, now a tear, And than thou art a piece expressing fury, The Carthage Queen when from a cold Sea rock, Full with her sorrow, she tied fast her eyes, To the fair Trojan ships, having lost them, Just as thine does, down stole a tear! Antiphila, What would this wench do if she were Aspasia, Here she would stand, till some more, pitying god Turned her to Marble, 'tis enough my wench, Show me the piece of needle work you wrought. Of Ariadne madam? Yes that piece, This should be Theseus, has a cozening face, You meant him for a man. He was so madam.
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)
These strange and sudden iniuries haue falen So thick vpon me, that I lose all sense Of what they are, me thinkes I am not wrong'd, Nor is it ought, if from the censuring world I can but hide it—reputation Thou art a word, no more, but thou hast showne An impudence so high, that to the world I feare thou wilt betray or shame thy selfe. To couer shame, I tooke thee neuer feare, That I would blaze my selfe. Nor let the King Know I conceiue he wrongs me, then mine honour Will thrust me into action, that my flesh Could beare with patience, and it is some ease To me in these extreames, that I know this Before I toucht thee, else had all the sinnes Of mankinde stood betwixt me and the King, I had gone through, e'ne to his hart and thine I haue left one desire, tis not his crowne Shall buy me to thy bed, now I resolue He has dishonour'd thee, giue me thy hand, Be carefull of thy credit, and sinne close Tis all I wish, vpon thy chamber floure Ile rest to night, that morning visiters May thinke we did as married people vse, And prethee smile vpon me when they come, And seeme to toy as if thou hadst beene pleas'd With what I did. Feare not, I will doe this. Come let vs practise, and as wantonly As euer longing bride and bridegroome met, Lets laugh and enter here. I am content. Downe all the swellings of my troubled heart, When we walke thus intwind let all eyes see, If euer louers better did agree. Away you are not, force it no further, Good, good, how well you looke, such a full colour Young bashfull brides put on, sure you are new maried. Yes Madame to your griefe. Alas poore wentches Goe learne to loue irst, learne to lose your selues, Learne to be flattered, and beleeue and blesse The double tongue that did it, Did you ere loue yet wenches, speake Olimpas, Thou hast a metled temper, fit for stamp. Neuer. Nor you Antiphila. Nere I. Then my good girles be more then women wie At least, be more then I was, come les be sad my girles, That downe cast of thine eye Olimpias, Showes a faind sorrow; marke Antiphila, Iust such another was the Nymph Oenes, When Paris brought home Hellen, now a teare, And then thou art a peece expressing fuie, The Carthage Queene when from a cold Sea rock, Full with her sorrow, she tyed fast her eyes, To the faire Troian ships, hauing lost them, Iust as thine does, downe stole a teare! Antiphila, What would this wench doe if she were Aspatia, Here she would stand, till some more, pittying god Turnd her to Marble, tis enough my wench, Show me the peece of needl worke you wrought. Of Ariadne Madame? Yes that peece, This should be Theseus, has a cousening face, You ment him for a man. He was so Madame.