Middleton, Thomas · published 1625 · first performed or written 1624 [licensed for stage, Jun 12] (Annals) comedy · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
It shall be done. Thou with gentle form and face, filled lately this Egypted Glass, By th'imperious powerful name, And the universal fame, Of the mighty black House Queen I conjure thee to be seen. What see you nothing yet? Not any part: Pray try another. You shall have your will: I double my command and power, And at the instant of this hour: Invoke thee in the white queen's name, With stay for time, and shape the same. What see you yet? There's nothing shows at all. My truth reflects the clearer. Then now fix and bless your fair eye, With your own for ever. Thou well composed by fate's hand drawn, To enjoy the white Queens Pawn, Of whom thou shalt (by virtue meet) Many graceful issues get: By the beauty of her fame, By the whiteness of her name, By her fair and fruitful love, By her truth that mates the Dove, By the meekness of her mind, By the softness of her kind, By the lustre of her grace, By all these thou'rt summoned to this place. Hark how the air enchanted with your praises, And his approach this words to sweet notes raises. Oh let him stay a while, a little longer. That's a good hearing. If he be mine, why should he part so soon? Why, this is but the shadow of yours: How do you? Oh, I did in to give consent to see it, What certainty is in our bloods our states? What we still write is blotted out by fates: Our wills are like a cause that is law-tossed, What one Court orders, is by another-crost. I find no fit place for this passion here, 'tis merely an intruder, he is a Gentleman, Most wishfully composed, honour grows on him, And wealth piled up for him, has youth enough too, And yet in the sobriety of his Countenance, Grave as a tetrarch, which is gracious i'th' eye of modest pleasure, where's the emptiness, What can you more request. I do not know What answer yet to make, it doth require, A meeting twixt my fear and my desire. she's caught, and which is strong, by her most wronger. THE Iesuit in his gallant habit, 'tis he my Confessor, he might have passed me seven years together, had I not by chance Advanced mine eye upon that lettered Hat bond: The jesuitical symbol to be worn, By the brave collegians with consent, 'tis a strange habit for a holy Father, A precedent of poverty especially: But we the sons and daughters of Obedience, Dare not once think awry, but must confess ourselves As humble to the father of that feather, Long spear and poniard, as to the Abbey and Altar, And happy we are so highly graced t'attain to't, Holy and reverend. How has found me out?
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)
It ſhall be done. Thou with gentle forme and face, Fil'd lately this Egypted Glaſſe, By th'emperious powerfull name, And the Vninerſall fame, Of the mighty blacke Houſe Queene I coniure thee to be ſeene. What ſee you nothing yet? Not any part: Pray try another. You ſhall haue your will: I double my commaund and power, And at the inſtant of this houre: Invoke thee in the white queenes name, VVith ſtay for time, and ſhape the ſame. What ſee you yet? There's nothing ſhewes at all. My truth reflects the clearer. Then now fix and bleſſe your fayre eye, With your owne for euer. Thou well compoſ'd by fates hand drawne, To enioy the white Queenes Pawne, Of whom thou ſhalt (by vertue meete) Many gracefull iſſues get: By the beauty of her fame, By the whiteneſſe of her name, By her faire and fruitfull loue, By her truth that mates the Doue, By the meekneſſe of her minde, By the ſoftneſſe of her kinde, By the luſture of her grace, By al theſe thou'rt ſummond to this place. Harke how the ayre inchanted with your prayſes, And his approach this words to ſweet notes rayſes. Oh let him ſtay a while, a little longer. That's a good hearing. If he be mine, why ſhold he part ſo ſoone? Why, this is but the ſhadow of yours: How do you? Oh, I did in to giue conſent to ſee it, What certainty is in our bloods our ſtates? What we ſtill write is blotted out by fates: Our wills are like a cauſe that is Law-toſt, What one Court orders, is by another-croſt. I find no fit place for this paſſion here, Tis meerely an intruder, he is a Gentleman, Moſt wiſhfully compoſed, honor growes on him, And wealth pil'd vp for him, has youth enough too, And yet in the ſobriety of his Countenance, Graue as a Tetrach, which is gracious Ith'eye of modeſt pleaſure, where's the emptineſſe, What can you more requeſt. I do not know What anſwere yet to make, it doth require, A meeting 'twixt my feare and my deſire. Shee's caught, and which is ſtrong, by her moſt wronger. THE Ieſuit in his gallant habit, Tis he my Confeſſor, he might haue paſſ'd me Seauen yeares together, had I not by chance Aduanc'd mine eye vpon that lettered Hat bond: The Ieſuiticall ſymbale to be worne, By the braue Colledgians with conſent, Tis a ſtrange habit for a holy Father, A preſident of pouerty eſpecially: But wee the ſonnes and daughters of Obedience, Dare not once think awry, but muſt confeſſe our ſelues As humble to the father of that feather, Long ſpeare and ponyard, as to the Abbey and Alter, And happy we are ſo highly grac'd t'attaine to't, Holy and reuerend. How has found me out?