Philaster, or Love Lies a-Bleeding · chunk 38 of 40
Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1620 · first performed or written 1609 [May(?)] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 471 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
Yes, my pretty Prince of puppets, we do know, and give you gentle warning, you talk no more such bugs words, lest that sodden Crown should be scratched with a musket; dear Prince pippin, I'll have you coddled, let him lose my spirits, and make a ring with your bills my hearts: Now let me see what this brave man dares do: note sir, have at you with this washing blow, here I lie, do you huff sweet Prince? I could hock your grace, and hang you cross legged, like a Hare at a poulter's stall; and do thus. Gentlemen, honest Gentlemen— A speaks treason Captain, shall's knock him down? Hold, I say. Good Captain let me have one mal at's mazzard, I feel my stomach strangely provoked to be at his Spanish pot-nowl, shall's kill him? ay, kill him, kill him. Again I say hold. O how rank he looks, sweet Captain let's geld him, and send his dowsets for a dish to the bordello. No, let's rather sell them to some woman Chemist, that extractions, she might draw an excellent provocative oil from useth them, that might be very useful. You see, my scurvy Don, how precious you are in esteem amongst us, had you not been better kept at home, I think you had: must you needs come amongst us, to have your saffron hide tawed as we intend it: My Don, Phylaster must suffer death to satisfy your melancholy spleen, he must my Don, he must; but we your Physicians, hold it fit that you bleed for it: Come my robustics, my brave regiment of rattle makers, let's call a common cornuted counsel, and like grave Senators, bear up our branched crests, in sitting upon the several tortures we shall put him to, and with as little sense as may be, put your wills in execution. Burn him, burn him. Hang him, hang him. No, rather let's carbinade his cods-head, and cut him to collops: shall I begin? Stay your furies my loving Countrymen. Phylaster is come, Phylaster, Phylaster. My porcupines of spite, make room I say, that I may salute my brave Prince: and is Prince Phylaster at liberty? I am, most loving countrymen. Then give me thy Princely goll, which thus I kiss, to whom I crouch and bow; But see my royal spark, this headstrong swarm that follow me humming like a master be, have I led forth their Hives, and being on wing, and in our heady flight, have seized him shall suffer for thy wrongs. ay, ay, let's kill him, kill him. But hear me, Countrymen. Hear the Prince, I say, hear Phylaster. ay, ay, hear the Prince, hear the Prince. My coming is to give you thanks, my dear Countrymen, whose powerful sway hath curbed the prosecuting fury of my foes.
seed 43: T57 · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Yes, my pretie Prince of puppits, we do know, and giue you gentle warning, you talke no more such bugs words, lest that sodden Crowne should be scracht with a musket; deare Prince pippin, I'le haue you codled, let him loose my spirits, and make a ring with your bils my hearts: Now let mee see what this braue man dares doe: note sir, haue at you with this washing blow, here I lie, doe you huffe sweete Prince? I could hock your grace, and hang you crosse leg'd, like a Hare at a Poulters stall; and do thus. Gentlemen, honest Gentlemen — A speakes treason Captaine, shal's knock him downe? Hold, I say. Good Captaine let me haue one mal at's mazard, I feele my stomacke strangely prouoked to bee at his Spanish pot-nowle, shal's kill him? I, kill him, kill him. Againe I say hold. O how ranke he lookes, sweete Captaine let's geld him, and send his dowsets for a dish to the Burdello. No, let's rather sell them to some woman Chymist, that extractions, shee might draw an excellent prouocatiue oyle from vseth them, that might be very vsefull. You see, my scuruy Don, how precious you are in esteem amongst vs, had you not beene better kept at home, I thinke you had: must you needes come amongst vs, to haue your saffron hide taw'd as wee intend it: My Don, Phylaster must suffer death to satisfie your melancholly spleene, he must my Don, he must; but we your Physitians, hold it fit that you bleede for it: Come my robusticks, my braue regiment of rattle makers, let's cal a common cornuted counsell, and like graue Senators, beare vp our brancht crests, in sitting vpon the seuerall tortures we shall put him to, and with as little sense as may be, put your wils in execucion. Burne him, burne him. Hang him, hang him. No, rather let's carbinade his cods-head, and cut him to collops: shall I begin? Stay your furies my louing Countrimen. Phylaster is come, Phylaster, Phylaster. My poroupines of spite, make roome I say, that I may salute my braue Prince: and is Prince Phylaster at liberty? I am, most louing countrimen. Then giue me thy Princely goll, which thus I kisse, to whom I crouch and bow; But see my royall sparke, this head-strong swarme that follow me humming like a master Bee, haue I led forth their Hiues, and being on wing, and in our heady flight, haue seazed him shall suffer for thy wrongs. I, I, let's kill him, kill him. But heare me, Countrimen. Heare the Prince, I say, heare Phylaster. I, I, heare the Prince, heare the Prince. My comming is to giue you thankes, my deere Countrimen, whose powerfull sway hath curb'd the prossecuting fury of my foes.