Philaster, or Love Lies a-Bleeding · chunk 36 of 40
Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1620 · first performed or written 1609 [May(?)] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Get to your strength, And rescue the Prince Pharamont from danger, He's taken prisoner by the Citizens, For the Lord Phylaster. O brave fellows; Mutiny my fine dear countrymen, Mutiny. Now my brave valiant foremen, show your weapons In honour of your Mistresses. Arm, arm, arm. A thousand devils take these Citizens. A thousand blessings on them. Arm, O king, the City is in Mutiny. Led by an old grey Ruffian, who comes on In rescue of the Lord Phylaster. Away to the Citadel, I'll see them safe, And then cope with these burghers, let the guard And all the Gentlemen give strong attendance. The City up, this was above our wishes. ay, and the marriage too, by all the gods, this noble Lady has deceived us all, a plague upon myself, a thousand plagues, for having such unworthy thoughts of her dear Honour: O, I could beat myself, or do you beat me, and I'll beat you, for we had all one thought. No, no, 'twill but lose time. You say true, are your swords sharp: Well my dear Countrymen what you lacks, if you continue, and fall not Back, upon the first broken skin, I'll see you Chronicled, And Chronicled, and cut and Chronicled, and all to be praised, And sung in sonnets, and bathed in brave new ballads, That all tongues shall troll you in Secula seculorum, My kind Countrymen. What if a toy take 'em i'ch. les now, and they run all away, and cry, the devil take the hindmost. Then the same devil take the foremost too, and sauce him for his breakfast, if they all prove cowards, my curses flush amongst 'em, and ill speeding: may they have injurious rain to keep the Gentlemen at home in rasine freeze, may the moth branch their velvets, and their silks only be worn before sore eyes, may their false lights undo 'em, and discover presses, holes, stains, and oldness in their stuffs, and make them shop-rid, may they keep whores, and horses, and break, and live mewed up with necks of beef and turnips; May they have many children, and none like the father, and know no language but that gibberish they prattle to their parcels, unless it be the goatish latin they write in their bonds, and may they write that false, and lose their debts. Now the vengeance of all the gods confound them, How they swarm together, what a hum they raise. devils choke your wide throats, if a man had need To use your valours, we must pay a brokage for't, And then bring on, and you will fight like sheep: 'tis Phylaster, none but Phylaster must allay this heat, They will not hear me speak, but fling dirt at me, And call me tyrant. O run dear friend, and bring the Lord Phylaster, speak him well, call him Prince, Do him all the courtesies you can, commend me to him, Oh! my wits, my wits.
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)
Get to your strength, And rescue the Prince Pharamont from danger, He's taken prisoner by the Citizens, For the Lord Phylaster. O braue fellowes; Mureny my fine deere countrimen, Muteny. Now my braue valiant formen, show your weapons In honour of your Mistresses. Arme, arme, arme. A thousand diuels take these Citizens. A thousand blessings on them. Arme, O king, the Citie is in Muteny. Led by an old gray Ruffin, who comes on In rescue of the Lord Phylaster. Away to the Citadell, I'le see them safe, And then cope with these burgers, let the guard And all the Gentlemen giue strong attendance. The Citie vp, this was aboue our wishes. I, and the marriage too, by al the gods, this noble Lady has deceiued vs all, a plague vpon my selfe, a thousand plagues, for hauing such vnworthy thoughts of her deare Honor: O, I could beat my selfe, or doe you beat mee, and I'le beat you, for wee had all one thought. No, no, 'twill but lose time. You say true, are your swords sharpe: Well my deere Countrimen what you lackes, ifyou continue, and fall not Backe, vpon the first broken skin, I'le see you Chronicled, And Chronicled, and cut and Chronicled, and all to be prais'd, And sung in sonets, and bath'd in braue new ballads, That all tongues shall troule you in Secula seculorum, My kinde Countrimen. What if a toy take vm i'ch hee les now, and they run all away, and cry, the diuell take the hindmost. Then the same diuell take the formost too, and sawce him for his breakefast, if they all prooue cowards, my curses flush amongst vm, and ill speeding: may they haue iniurious raine to keepe the Gentlemen at home in rasine freeze, may the moth branch their veluets, and their silkes onely bee worne before sore eies, may their false lights vndoe vm, and discouer preases, holes, staines, and oldnesse in their stuffes, and make them shop-rid, may they keepe whoores, and horses, and breake, and liue mued vp with necks ofbeefe and turnups; May they haue many children, and none like the father, and know no language but that gibberish they pratle to their parsels, vnlesse it be the gotish latine they write in their bonds, and may they write that false, and lose their debts. Now the vengeance of all the gods confound them, How they swarme together, what a hum they raise. Diuels choake your wide throates, if a man had neede To vse your valours, we must pay a brokadge for't, And then bring on, and you will fight like sheepe: Tis Phylaster, none but Phylaster must allay this heate, They will not heare me speake, but fling durt at me, And call me tyrant. O run deere friend, and bring the Lord Phylaster, speake him well, call him Prince, Do him all the courtesies you can, commend me to him, Oh! my wits, my wits.