Webster, John · published 1623 · first performed or written 1614 [1612-1614; revised 1617-23(?)] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.75 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Oh wicked Cannibal: a firelock in's codpiece? 'Twas a French plot upon my life. To see what the Devil can do. All the Offices here? We are: Gentlemen, We have lost much Plate you know; and but this evening jewels, to the value of four thousand Ducats Are missing in the Duchess' Cabinet, Are the Gates shut? Yes. 'Tis the Duchess pleasure Each Officer be locked into his chamber Till the Sunrising: and to send the keys Of all their chests, and of their outward doors Into her bedchamber: She is very sick. At her pleasure. She entreats you take't not ill: The Innocent Shall be the more approved by it. Gentleman o'th' Woodyard, where's your Swisser now? By this hand 'twas credibly reported by one o'th' Blackguard. How fares it with the Duchess? She's exposed Unto the worst of torture, pain, and fear; Speak to her all happy comfort. How I do play the fool with mine own danger? You are this night (dear friend) to post to Rome, My life lies in your service. Do not doubt me, Oh, 'Tis far from me: and yet fear presents me Somewhat that look like danger. Believe it, 'Tis but the shadow of your fear, no more: How superstitiously we mind our evils? The throwing down salt, or crossing of a Hare; Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse: Or singing of a cricket, are of power To daunt whole man in us: Sir, fare you well: I wish you all the joys of a blessed Father; And (for my faith) lay this unto your breast, Old friends (like old swords) still are trusted best. Sir, you are the happy father of a son, Your wife commends him to you. Blessed comfort: For heaven-sake tend her well: I'll presently Go set a figure for's Nativity. Sure I did hear a woman shriek: list, hah? And the sound came (if I received it right) From the Duchess lodgings: there's some stratagem, In the confining all our Courtiers To their several wards: I must have part of it, My Intelligence will freeze else: List again, It may be 'twas the melancholy bird, (Best friend of silence, and of solitariness) The Owl, that screamed so: hah? Antonio? I heard some noise: whose's there? what art thou? speak. Antonio? Put not your face; nor body To such a forced expression of fear, I am Bosola; your friend. Bosola? (This mole does undermine me) heard you not A noise even now? From whence? From the Duchess lodging. Not I: did you? I did: or else I dreamed. Let's walk towards it. No: It may be, 'twas But the rising of the wind: Very likely: methinks 'tis very cold, and yet you sweat. You look wildly. I have been setting a figure For the Duchess jewels; Ah: and how falls your question? Do you find it radical? What's that to you? 'Tis rather to be questioned what design (When all men were commanded to their lodgings) Makes you a nightwalker.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Oh wicked Caniball: a fire-lock in's cod-piece? 'Twas a French plot vpon my life. To see what the Diuell can doe. All the Offices here? We are: Gentlemen, We haue lost much Plate you know; and but this euening Iewels, to the value of foure thousand Duckets Are missing in the Ducthesse Cabinet, Are the Gates shut? Yes. 'Tis the Duchesse pleasure Each Officer be lock'd into his chamber Till the Sun-rysing: and to send the keyes Of all their chests, and of their outward doores Into her bed-chamber: She is very sicke. At her pleasure. She intreates you take't not ill: The Innocent Shall be the more approu'd by it. Gentleman o'th' Wood-yard, where's your Switzer now? By this hand 'twas creadably reported by one o'th' Black-guard. How fares it with the Dutchesse? She's expos'd Vnto the worst of torture, paine, and feare; Speake to her all happy comfort. How I do play the foole with mine own danger? You are this night (deere friend) to poast to Rome, My life lies in your seruice. Doe not doubt me, Oh, 'Tis farre from me: and yet feare presents me Somewhat that looke like danger. Beleeue it, 'Tis but the shadow of your feare, no more: How superstitiously we mind our euils? The throwing downe salt, or crossing of a Hare; Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse: Or singing of a Criket, are of powre To daunt whole man in vs: Sir, fare you well: I wish you all the ioyes of a bless'd Father; And (for my faith) lay this vnto your brest, Old friends (like old swords) still are trusted best. Sir, you are the happy father of a sonne, Your wife commends him to you. Blessed comfort: For heauen-sake tend her well: I'll presently Goe set a figure for's Natiuitie. Sure I did heare a woman shreike: list, hah? And the sound came (if I receiu'd it right) From the Dutchesse lodgings: ther's some stratagem, In the conyning all our Courtiers To their seuerall wards: I must haue part of it, My Intelligence will freize else: List againe, It may be 'twas the mellencholly bird, (Best friend of silence, and of solitarines) The Oowle, that schream'd so: hah? Antonio? I heard some noyse: whose there? what art thou? speake. Antonio? Put not your face; nor body To such a forc'd expression of feare, I am Bosola; your friend. Bosola? (This Moale do's vndermine me) heard you no A noyce euen now? From whence? From the Duchesse lodging. Not I: did you? I did: or else I dream'd. Let's walke towards it. No: It may be, 'twas But the rising of the winde: Very likely: Me thinkes 'tis very cold, and yet you sweat. You looke wildly. I haue bin sing a figure For the Dutchesse Iewells; Ah: and how falls your question? Doe you ind it radicall? What's that to you? 'Tis rather to be question'd what designe (When all men were commanded to their lodgings) Makes you a night-walker.