Shakespeare, William / Fletcher, John · published 1623 · first performed or written 1613 [Jun] (Annals) history · King's Men unassigned nearest T16 Gallantry: ladies, lordships and complim · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T16: lady, madam, gentleman, lordship, ladies, honour, mistress, sweet, court, servant.
My good Lord, Not your demand; it values not your ask: Our Mistress Sorrows we were pitying. It was a gentle business, and becoming The action of good women, there is hope All will be well. Now I pray God, Amen. You bear a gentle mind, & heavenly blessings Fellow such Creatures. That you may, fair Lady Perceive I speak sincerely, and high notes Ta'en of your many virtues; the King's Majesty Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and Does purpose honour to you no less flowing, Then marchioness of Pembroke; to which Title, A Thousand pound a year, Annual support, Out of his Grace, he adds. I do not know What kind of my obedience, I should tender; More than my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers Are not words duly hallowed; nor my Wishes More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes Are all I can return.' Beseech your Lordship, Vouchsafe to speak my thankes, and my obedience, As from a blushing Handmaid, to his Highness; Whose health and Royalty I pray for. Lady; I shall not fail t' approve the fair conceit The King hath of you. I have perused her well, Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled, That they have caught the King: and who knows yet But from this Lady, may proceed a gem, To lighten all this I'll. I'll to the King, And say I spoke with you. My honoured Lord. Why this it is: See, see, I have been begging sixteen years in Court (Am yet a Courtier beggarly) nor could Come pat betwixt too early, and too late For any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate) A very fresh Fish here; fie, fie, fie upon This compelled fortune: have your mouth filled up, Before you open it. This is strange to me. How tastes it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no: There was a Lady once ('tis an old Story) That would not be a Queen, that would she not For all the mud in Egypt; have you heard it? Come you are pleasant. With your Theme, I could O're-mount the Lark: The marchioness of Pembroke? A thousand pounds a year, for pure respect? No other obligation? by my Life, That promises more thousands: Honours train Is longer than his fore-skirt; by this time I know your back will bear a Duchess. Say, Are you not stronger than you were? Good Lady, Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy, And leave me out on't. Would I had no being If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me To think what follows. The Queen is comfortless, and wee forgetful In our long absence: pray do not deliver, What here ye have heard to her. What do you think me— Whilst our Commission from Rome is read; Let silence be commanded.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T9 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
My good Lord, Not your demand; it values not your asking: Our Miſtris Sorrowes we were pittying. It was a gentle buſineſſe, and becomming The action of good women, there is hope All will be well. Now I pray God, Amen. You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly bleſſings Follow ſuch Creatures. That you may, faire Lady Perceiue I ſpeake ſincerely, and high notes Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maieſty Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and Doe's purpoſe honour to you no leſſe flowing, Then Marchioneſſe of Pembrooke; to which Title, A Thouſand pound a yeare, Annuall ſupport, Out of his Grace, he addes. I doe not know What kinde of my obedience, I ſhould tender; More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wiſhes More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wiſhes Are all I can returne. 'Beſeech your Lordſhip, Vouchſafe to ſpeake my thankes, and my obedience, As from a bluſhng Handmaid, to his Highneſſe; Whoſe health and Royalty I pray for. Lady; I ſhall not faile t' approue the faire conceit The King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well, Beauty and Honour in her are ſo mingled, That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme, To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King, And ſay I ſpoke with you. My honour'd Lord. Why this it is: See, ſee, I haue beene begging ſixteene yeares in Court (Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor could Come pat betwixt too early, and too late For any ſuit of pound: and you, (oh fate) A very freſh Fiſh heere; fye, fye, fye vpon This compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp, Before you open it. This is ſtrange to me. How taſts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no: There was a Lady once (tis an old Story) That would not be a Queene, that would ſhe not For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it? Come you are pleaſant. With your Theame, I could O're-mount the Larke: The Marchioneſſe of Pembrooke? A thouſand pounds a yeare, for pure reſpect? No other obligation? by my Life, That promiſes mo thouſands: Honours traine Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time I know your backe will beare a Dutcheſſe. Say, Are you not ſtronger then you were? Good Lady, Make your ſelfe mirth with your particular fancy, And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being If this ſalute my blood a ot; it faints me To thinke what followes. The Queene is comfortleſſe, and we forgetfull In our long abſence: pray doe not deliuer, What heere y' haue heard to her. What doe you thinke me — Whil'ſt our Commiſſion from Rome is read; Let ſilence be commanded.