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 0.84 · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Your husband's come, Hath delivered a letter to the Duke of Calabria, that, To my thinking hath put him out of his wits. Sir, you hear, Pray let me know your business, and your suit, As briefly as can be. With good speed, I would wish you (At such time, as you are nonresident With your husband) my mistress. Sir, i'll go ask my husband if I shall, And straight return your answer. Very fine, Is this her wit, or honesty that speaks thus? I heard one say the Duke was highly moved With a letter sent from Malfi: I do fear Antonio is betrayed: how fearfully Shows his ambition now, (unfortunate Fortune) " They pass through whirlpools, and deep woes do shun, Who the event weigh, ere the action's done. I have this night digged up a mandrake. Say you? And I am grown mad with't. What's the prodigy? Read there, a sister dampened, she's loose i'th' hilt: Grown a notorious Strumpet. Speak lower. Lower? rogue's do not whisper't now, but seek to publish't, (As servants do the bounty of their Lords) Aloud; and with a covetous searching eye, To mark who note them: Oh confusion seize her, She hath had most cunning bawds to serve her turn, And more secure conveyances for lust, Than Towns of garrison, for Service. Is't possible? Can this be certain? rhubarb, oh, for rhubarb To purge this choler, here's the cursed day To prompt my memory, and here'it shall stick Till of her bleeding heart, I make a sponge To wipe it out. Why do you make yourself So wild a Tempest? Would I could be one, That I might toss her palace 'bout her ears, Root up her goodly forests, blast her meads, And lay her general territory as waste, As she hath done her honours. Shall our blood? (The royal blood of Arragon, and Castille) Be thus attainted? Apply desperate physic, We must not now use Balsamum, but fire, The smarting cupping-glass, for that's the mean To purge infected blood, (such blood as hers:) There is a kind of pity in mine eye, I'll give it to my handkercher; and now 'tis here, I'll bequeath this to her Bastard. What to do? Why, to make soft lint for his mother wounds, When I have hewed her to pieces. Cursed creature, Unequal nature, to place women's hearts So far upon the left-side. Foolish men, That ere will trust their honour in a Bark, Made of so slight, weak-bulrush, as is woman, Apt every minute to sink it? Thus Ignorance, when it hath purchased honour, It cannot wield it. methinks I see her laughing, Excellent hyena, talk to me somewhat, quickly, Or my imagination will carry me To see her, in the shameful act of sin. With whom? Happily, with some strong thighed Bargeman; Or one th'woodyard, that can quoit the sledge, Or toss the bar, or else some lovely Squire That carries coals up, to her privy lodgings.
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)
Your husband's come, Hath deliuer'd a letter to the Duke of Calabria, that, To my thinking hath put him out of his wits. Sir, you heare, 'Pray let me know your busines, and your suite, As briefely as can be. With good speed, I would wish you (At such time, as you are non-resident With your husband) my mistris. Sir, i'le go aske my husband if I shall, And straight returne your answere. Very fine, Is this her wit, or honesty that speakes thus? I heard one say the Duke was highly mou'd With a letter sent from Malfy: I doe feare Antonio is betray'd: how fearefully Shewes his ambition now, (vnfortunate Fortune) "They passe through whirle-pooles, and deepe woes doe shun, Who the euent weigh, ere the action's done. I haue this night dig'd vp a man-drake. Say you? And I am growne mad with't. What's the progedy? Read there, a siter dampn'd, she's loose i'th'hilt: Growne a notorious Strumpet. Speake lower. Lower? Rogues do not whisper't now, but seeke to publish't, (As seruants do the bounty of their Lords) Aloud; and with a couetuous searching eye, To marke who note them: Oh confusion sease her, She hath had most cunning baudes to serue her turne, And more secure conueyances for lust, Then Townes of garrison, for Seruice. Is't possible? Can this be certaine? Rubarbe, oh, for rubarbe To purge this choller, here's the cursed day To prompt my memory, and here'it shall sticke Till of her bleeding heart, I make a spunge To wipe it out. Why doe you make your selfe So wild a Tempest? Would I could be one, That I might tosse her pallace 'bout her eares, Roote vp her goodly forrests, blast her meades, And lay her generall territory as wast, As she hath done her honors. Shall our blood? (The royall blood of Arragon, and Castile) Be thus attaincted? Apply desperate physicke, We must not now vse Balsamum, but fire, The smarting cupping-glasse, for that's the meane To purge infected blood, (such blood as hers:) There is a kind of pitty in mie eie, I'll giue it to my hand-kercher; and now 'tis here, I'll bequeath this to her Bastard. What to do? Why, to make soft lint for his mother wounds, When I haue hewed her to peeces. Curs'd creature, Vnequall nature, to place womens hearts So farre vpon the left-side. Foolish men, That ere will trust their honour in a Barke, Made of so slight, weake-bull-rush, as is woman, Apt euery minnt to sinke it? Thus Ignorance, when it hath purchas'd honour, It cannot weild it. Me thinkes I see her laughing, Excellent Hyenna, talke to me somewhat, quickly, Or my imagination will carry me To see her, in the shamefull act of sinne. VVith whom? Happily, with some strong thigh'd Bargeman; Or one th'wood-yard, that can quoit the sledge, Or tosse the barre, or else some louely Squire That carries cole vp, to her priuy lodgings.