Massinger, Philip · published 1623 · first performed or written 1621 [1621-1623] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
I must borrow The privilege of a friend, and will, or else I am, like these, a servant, or what's worse, A parasite to the sorrow, Sforza worships In spite of reason. Pray you use your freedom, And so far, if you please, allow me mine, To hear you only, not to be compelled To take your moral potions. I am a man, And though philosophy your mistress rage for't, Now I have cause to grieve, I must be sad, And I dare show it. Would it were bestowed Upon a worthier subject. Take heed, friend. You rub a sore, whose pain will make me mad, And I shall then forget myself and you. Lance it no further. Have you stood the shock Of thousand enemies, and outfaced the anger Of a great Emperor, that vowed your ruin, Though by a desperate, a glorious way, That had no precedent? Are you returned with honour, Loved by your subjects? Does your fortune court you, Or rather say, your courage does command it? Have you given proof to this hour of your life, Prosperity (that searches the best temper) Could never puff you up, nor adverse fate Deject your valour? Shall I say, these virtues, So many and so various trials of Your constant mind, be buried in the frown (To please you I will say so) of a fair woman? Yet I have seen her equals. Good Pescara, This language in another were profane, In you it is unmannerly. Her equall? I tell you as a friend, and tell you plainly (To all men else, my Sword should make reply) Her goodness does disdain comparison, And but herself admits no parallel. But you will say she's cross, 'tis fit she should be When I am foolish, for she's wise, Pescara, And knows how far she may dispose her bounties, Her honour safe: or if she were averse, 'Twas a prevention of a greater sin Ready to fall upon me, for she's not ignorant But truly understands how much I love her, And that her rare parts do deserve all honour, Her excellence increasing with her years to, I might have fall'n into Idolatry, And from the admiration of her worth, been taught to think there is no power above her, And yet I do believe, had Angels sexes, The most would be such women, and assume No other shape, when they were to appear In their full glory. Well Sir, I'll not cross you, Nor labour to diminish your esteem Hereafter of her, since your happiness (As you will have it) has alone dependence Upon her favour, from my Soul, I wish you A fair atonement. Time, and my submission May work her to it. O! you are well returned, Say, am I blessed? hath she vouchsafed to hear you? Is there hope left that she may be appeased? Let her propound, and gladly I'll subscribe To her conditions.
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)
I must borrow The priuiledge of a friend, and will, or else I am, like these, a seruant, or what's worse, A parasite to the sorrow, Storza worships In spite of reason. Pray you vse your freedome, And so farre, if you please, allow me mine, To heare you only, not to be compel'd To take your morall potions. I am a man, And though philosophy your mistrisse rage for't, Now I haue cause to grieue, I must be sad, And I dare shew it. Would it were bestow'd Vpon a worthier subiect. Take heed, friend. You rub a sore, whose paine will make me mad, And I shall then forget my selfe and you. Lance it no further. Haue you stood the shock Of thousand enemies, and out-fac'd the anger Of a great Emperor, that vowed your ruine, Though by a desperate, a glorious way, That had no president? Are you return'd with honor, Lou'd by your subiects? Does your fortune court you, Or rather say, your courage does command it? Haue you giu'n proofe to this houre of your life, Prosperitie (that searches the best temper) Could neuer puffe you vp, nor aduerse fate Deiect your valor? Shall I say, these vertues, So many and so various trials of Your constant mind, be buried in the frowne (To please you I will say so) of a faire woman? Yet I haue seene her equals. Good Pescara, This language in another were prophane, In you it is vnmannerly. Her equall? I tell you as a friend, and tell you plainly (To all men else, my Sword should make reply) Her goodnesse does disdaine comparison, And but her selfe admits no paralell. But you will say she's crosse, 'tis fit she should be When I am foolish, for she's wise, Pescara, And knows how farre she may dispose her bounties, Her honour safe: or if she were auerse, 'Twas a preuention of a greater sinne Readie to fall vpon me, for she's not ignorant But truly vnderstands how much I loue her, And that her rare parts doe deserue all honour, Her excellence increasing with her yeeres to, I might haue falne into Idolatry, And from the admiration of her worth, Bin taught to think there is no power aboue her, And yet I doe beleeue, had Angels sexes, The most would be such women, and assume No other shape, when they were to appeare In their full glorie. Well Sir, I'le not crosse you, Nor labour to diminish your esteeme Hereafter of her, since your happinesse (As you will haue it) has alone dependance Vpon her fauour, from my Soule, I wish you A faire attonement. Time, and my submission May worke her to it. O! you are well return'd, Say, am I blest? hath she vouchfaf'd to heare you? Is there hope left that she may be appeas'd? Let her propound, and gladly I'le subscribe To her conditions.