Anonymous / Fletcher, John / Massinger, Philip · published 1621 · first performed or written 1617 [1613-1621] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T8 Captains, gallants and cheats typicality 0.84 · 516 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T8: captain, master, money, gentleman, little, lieutenant, rogue, pray, minos, honest.
Here Sir, here, I could beat my brains out, that could not think of boots, boots Sir, wide top boots, I shall love 'em the better whilst I live, but are you sure your jewels are here Sir? Sure sayst thou? ha, ha, ha. So ho, illo ho. Within soldiers. Here Captain, here. Foot what do you mean Sir? A trick to boot 〈...〉 chase, purchase, the soul of the rock, diamonds, sparkling diamonds. I am betrayed, lost, past recovery lost, as you are men. Nay Rook, since you will be prating, we'll share your carrion with you, have you any other conveyance now Sir? Foot here are letters, epistles, familiar epistles, we'll see what treasure is in them, they are sealed sure. Gentlemen, as you are gentlemen spare my letters, and take all willingly, all: i'll give you a release, a general release, and meet you here tomorrow with as much more. Nay, since you have your tricks, and your conveyances, we will not leave a wrinkle of you unsearched. Hark, there comes company, you will be betrayed, as you love your safeties beat out my brains, I shall betray you else. Treason, unheard of treason, monstrous, monstrous villainies. I confess myself a traitor, show yourselves good subjects, and hang me up for't. If it be treason, the discovery will get our pardon Captain. Would we were all lost, hanged, quartered, to save this one, one innocent prince; Thierry's poisoned, by his mother poisoned, the Mistress to this stallion, who by that poison ne'er shall sleep again. Foot let us mince him by piecemeal, tell he eat himself up. Let us dig out his heart with needles, and half broil him, like a mussel. Such another and I prevent you, my blood's settled already. Here's that shall remove it, toad, viper; drag him unto Martell, unnatural parricide, cruel, bloody woman. On you dogfish, leech, caterpillar. A longer sight of him will make my rage turn pity, and with his sudden end prevent revenge, and torture, wicked, wicked Brunbalt. Not sleep at all no means. I will assure you he can sleep no more Than a hooded hawk, a sentinel to him, Or one of the city Constables are tops. How came he so? They are too wise that dare know Something's amiss, heaven help all. What cures has he? some with glisters. Armies of those we call physicians, Some with lettice caps, some posset drinks, some pills, Twenty consulting here about a drench, As many here to blood him; Then comes a Don of Spain, and he prescribes More cooling opium then would kill a Turk, Or quench a whore i'th' dog-days; after him A wise Italian, and he cries, tie unto him A woman of fourscore, whose bones are marble, Whose blood snow water, not so much heat about her As may conceive a prayer: after him An English Doctor, with a bunch of pot herbs; And he cries out endive and succory, With a few mallow roots and butter milk, And talks of oil made of a churchman's charity, Yet still he wakes.
nodes 2215–2260 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 35 of 38 in this edition
Length
516 words · 713 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T8 — Captains, gallants and cheatscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.844 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T11 · seed 44: T14 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Here Sir, here, I could beate my braines out, that could not thinke of bootes, bootes Sir, wide top bootes, I shall loue em the better whilst I liue, but are you sure your iewells are here Sir? Sure saist thou? ha, ha, ha. So ho, illo ho. Within souldiers. Here Captaine, here. Foote what do you meane Sir? A tricke to boote chase, purchase, the soule of the rocke, diamonds, sparkling diamonds. I am betraide, lost, past recouery lost, as you are men. Nay Rooke, since you will be prating, we'le share your carion with you, haue you any other conueiance now Sir? Foote here are letters, epistles, familiar epistles, we'le see what treasure is in them, they are seal'd sure. Gentlemen, as you are gentlemen spare my letters, and take all willingly, all: ile giue you a release, a generall release, and meete you here to morrow with as much more. Nay, since you haue your trickes, and your conueiances, we will not leaue a wrinckle of you vnsearcht. Harke, there comes company, you will be betraide, as you loue your safeties beate out my braines, I shall betray you else. Treason, vnheard of treason, monstrous, monstrous villanies. I confesse my selfe a traytor, shew your selues good subiects, and hang me vp for't. If it be treason, the discouery will get our pardon Captaine. Would we were all lost, hang'd, quarter'd, to saue this one, one innocent prince; Thierry's poyson'd, by his mother poyson'd, the Mistris to this stallion, who by that poyson ne're shall sleepe againe. Foote let vs mince him by piecemeale, tell he eate himselfe vppe. Let vs dig out his heart with needles, and halfe broile him, like a mussell. Such another and I preuent you, my blood's setled already. Here's that shall remoue it, toade, viper; drag him vnto Martell, vnnaturall parricide, cruell, bloody woman. On you dogfish, leech, caterpiller. A longer sight of him will make my rage turne pitty, and with his suddaine end preuent reuenge, and torture, wicked, wicked Brunbalt. Not sleepe at all no meanes. I will assure you he can sleepe no more Then a hooded hawke, a centinell to him, Or one of the citty Constables are tops. How came he so? They are too wise that dare know Somethings amisse, heanen helpe all. What cures has he? some with glisters. Armies of those we call phisitians, Some with lettice caps, some posset drinkes, some pills, Twenty consulting here about a drench, As many here to blood him; Then comes a Don of Spaine, and he prescribes More cooling opium then would kill a turke, Or quench a whore ith dogdayes; after him A wise Italian, and he cries, tie vnto him A woman of fourescore, whose bones are marble, Whose bloud snow water, not so much heate about her As may conceiue a prayer: after him An English Doctor, with a bunch of pot hearbes; And he cries out Endiffe and suckery, With a few mallow rootes and butter milke, And talkes of oyle made of a churchmans charity, Yet still he wakes.