Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1603 [1603-1604] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
By my troth I take my young Lord to be a very melancholy man. By what observance I pray you. Why he will look upon his boot, and sing: mend the Ruff and sing, ask questions and sing, pick his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this trick of melancholy hold a goodly Manor for a song. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. I have no mind to Isbell since I was at Court. Our old ling, and our Isabels o' th' Country, are nothing like your old Ling and your Isabels o' th' Court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked out, and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. What have we here? In that you have there. I haue sent you a daughter-in-Law, shee hath recouered the King, and vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her, and sworne to make the not eternall. You shall heare I am runne away, know it before the report come. If there bee bredth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your vnfortunate sonne, Bertram. This is not well rash and unbridled boy, To fly the favours of so good a King, To pluck his indignation on thy head, By the misprising of a Maid too virtuous For the contempt of Empire. O Madam, yonder is heavy news within between two soldiers, and my young Lady. What is the matter. Nay there is some comfort in the news, some comfort, your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would. Why should he be killed? So say I Madame, if he run away, as I hear he does, the danger is in standing too't, that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. here they come will tell you more. For my part I only hear your son was run away. Save you good Madam. Madam, my Lord is gone, for ever gone. Do not say so. Think upon patience, pray you Gentlemen, I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief, That the first face of neither on the start Can woman me unto't. Where is my son I pray you? Madam he's gone to serve the Duke of Florence, We met him thitherward, for thence we came: And after some dispatch in hand at Court, Thither we bend again. Look on his Letter Madam, here's my Passport. This is a dreadful sentence. Brought you this Letter Gentlemen? I Madam, and for the Contents sake are sorry for our pains. I prithee Lady have a better cheer, If thou engrossest, all the griefs are thine, Thou robbest me of a moiety: He was my son, But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he?
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
By my troth I take my young Lord to be a verie melancholly man. By what obſeruance I pray you. Why he will looke vppon his boote, and ſing: mend the Ruffe and ſing, aske queſtions and ſing, picke his teeth, and ſing: I know a man that had this tricke of melancholy hold a goodly Mannor for a ſong. Let me ſee what he writes, and when he meanes to come. I haue no minde to Isbell ſince I was at Court. Our old Lings, and our Isbels a' th Country, are nothing like your old Ling and your Isbels a' th Court: the brains of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne to loue, as an old man loues money, with no ſtomacke. What haue we heere? In that you haue there. I haue ſent you a daughter-in-Law, ſhee hath recouered the King, and vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her, and ſworne to make the not eternall. You ſhall heare I am runne away, know it before the report come. If there bee bredth enough in the world, I will hold a long diſtance. My duty to you. Your vnfortunate ſonne, Bertram. This is not well raſh and vnbridled boy, To flye the fauours of ſo good a King, To plucke his indignation on thy head, By the miſpriſing of a Maide too vertuous For the contempt of Empire. O Madam, yonder is heauie newes within betweene two ſouldiers, and my yong Ladie. What is the matter. Nay there is ſome comfort in the newes, ſome comfort, your ſonne will not be kild ſo ſoone as I thoght he would. Why ſhould he be kill'd? So ſay I Madame, if he runne away, as I heare he does, the danger is in ſtanding too't, that's the loſſe of men, though it be the getting of children. Heere they come will tell you more. For my part I onely heare your ſonne was run away. Saue you good Madam. Madam, my Lord is gone, for euer gone. Do not ſay ſo. Thinke vpon patience, pray you Gentlemen, I haue felt ſo many quirkes of ioy and greefe, That the firſt face of neither on the ſtart Can woman me vntoo't. Where is my ſonne I pray you? Madam he's gone to ſerue the Duke of Florence, We met him thitherward, for thence we came: And after ſome diſpatch in hand at Court, Thither we bend againe. Looke on his Letter Madam, here's my Paſport. This is a dreadfull ſentence. Brought you this Letter Gentlemen? I Madam, and for the Contents ſake are ſorrie for our paines. I prethee Ladie haue a better cheere, If thou engroſſeſt, all the greefes are thine, Thou robſt me of a moity: He was my ſonne, But I do waſh his name out of my blood, And thou art all my childe. Towards Florence is he?