Middleton, Thomas · published 1625 · first performed or written 1624 [licensed for stage, Jun 12] (Annals) comedy · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T31 Popes, cardinals and the crown · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T31: cardinal, pope, king, lord, majesty, holy, rome, france, church, lords.
I dwell not (sir) alone in this default, The black house yields me partners. All more cautelous. Qui caute, cast, that's my Motto still, I've travailed with that word over most Kingdoms, And lain safe with most nations on a leaking bottom I have been as often tossed on Venus' seas As trimmer, and fresher barks, when sounder vessels Have lain at anchor, that is kept the door. She has no witness then? Gross witness, when went one of his society? To mischief with a witness? I have done't then, Away upon the wings of speed, take post horse, Cast thirty leagues of earth behind thee suddenly, Leave letters antedated at our house, Ten days at least from this. Bishop I taste thee, Good strong Episcopal counsel, take a bottle on't, 'twill serve thee all thy journey. But good (sir) how, For my getting for the unspied? There's Check again. No, I'll help that. Well said my bouncing Jesuitess. There lies a secret vault. Away, make haste then. Run for my Cabinet of intelligences, For fear they search the house, good Bishop burn'em, I cannot stand to pick 'em now. Begone the dangers all in you. Let me see Queens pawn, How formerly has packed up his intelligences, H'as laid them all in truckle beds (methinks) And like Court harbingers has writ the names In Chalk upon their Chambers: Anglica, Oh this is the English house, what news there trow? Hah by this hand most of these are bawdy epistles, Time they were burnt indeed, whole bundles of 'em: Here's from his daughter Blanch & daughter Bridget: From the safe sanctuary in the White-Friers: Those from two tender sisters of compassion, In the bowels of Bloomsbury: These three from the Nunnery in Drury lane: A fire, a fire, (go Jesuitess) a fire: What have you there? A note (sir) of State policy, And an exceeding safe one. Pray let's see it (Sir) To sell away all the powder in the Kingdom, To prevent blowing up, that's safe, i'll able it: Here's a factious observation now, That suits my humour better, he writes here Some wives in England will commit adultery, And then send to Room for a bull for their husbands. Have they those shifts? Oh no familiarity breathing Sweeter, here wench take those papers, Schorch 'em soundly, burn 'em to French russet, And put 'em, in again. Why, what's your mystery? Oh (sir) 'twill mock the adversary strangely, If ere the house be searched, 'twas done in Venice Upon the jesuitical expulse there, Where the inquisitors came all spectacled To pick out syllables out of the dung of treason, (As children pick their cherry-stones) yet found none; But what they made themselves with ends of letters. Do as I bid you Pawn. Faith not in all, I love roguery too well to let it fall: How now, what news with you? The sting of conscience Afflicts me so for that inhuman violence, On the White bishops Pawn, it takes away My joy, my rest.
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 dwell not (sir) alone in this default, The blacke houſe yeelds me partners. All more cautelous. Qui caute, caſte, that's my Motto ſtill, Iue trauailed with that word ouer moſt Kingdomes, And laine ſafe with moſt nations on a leaking bottom I haue beene as often toſt on Venus seas As trymer, and freſher barkes, when ſounder veſſels Haue layne at anchor, that is kept the doore. She has no witneſſe then? Groſſe witneſſe, when went one of his ſociety? To miſchiefe with a witneſſe? I haue don't then, Away vpon the wings of ſpeed, take poſt horſe, Caſt thirty leagues of earth behinde thee ſuddenly, Leaue letters ante-dated at our houſe, Ten dayes at leaſt from this. Biſhop I taſte thee, Good ſtrong Epiſcopall counſell, take a bottle on't, Twill ſerue thee all thy iourney. But good (ſir) how, For my getting for the vnſpied? There's Checke agen. No, Ile helpe that. Well ſayd my bouncing Ieſuiteſſe. There lies a ſecret valt. Away, make haſt then. Runne for my Cabinet of intelligences, For feare they ſearch the houſe, good Biſhop burn'em, I cannot ſtand to picke 'em now. Begone the dangers all in you. Let me ſee Queenes pawne, How formerly has packt vp his intelligences, H'as laid them all in truckell beds (me thinkes) And like Court harbingers has writ the names In Chalke vpon their Chambers: Anglica, Oh this is the Engliſh houſe, what newes there trow? Hah by this hand moſt of theſe are bawdy epiſtles, Time they were burnt indeed, whole bundles of 'em: Here's from his daughter Blanch & daughter Bridget: From the ſafe ſanctuary in the White-Friers: Thoſe from two tender ſiſters of compaſſion, In the bowels of Blomsbury: Theſe three from the Nonnery in Drury lane: A fire, a fire, (go Ieſuiteſſe) a fire: What haue you there? A note (ſir) of State policy, And an exceeding ſafe one. Pray let's ſee it (Sir) To ſell away all the powder in the Kingdome, To preuent blowing vp, that's ſafe, ile able it: Here's a factious obſeruation now, That ſuits my humor better, he writes here Some wiues in England will commit adultery, And then ſend to Roome for a bull for their husbands. Haue they thoſe ſhifts? Oh no familiarity breathing Sweeter, here wench take thoſe papers, Schorch em ſoundly, burne em to French ruſſet, And put em, in agen. Why, what's your myſtery? Oh (ſir) 'twill mocke the aduerſary ſtrangly, If ere the houſe be ſearcht, 'twas done in Venis Vppon the Ieſuiticall expulſe there, Where the Inqueſitors came all ſpecktacl'd To picke out ſyllables out of the dung of treaſon, (As children pick their cherry-ſtones) yet found none; But what they made themſelues with ends of letters. Do as I bid you Pawne. Faith not in all, I loue rogarie too well to let it fall: How now, what newes with you? The ſting of conſcience Afflicts me ſo for that inhumane violence, On the White biſhops Pawne, it takes away My ioy, my reſt.