Shirley, James · published 1629 · first performed or written 1626 (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
To him that was— what? Confident of her Virtue Once an admirer, now a mourner for Her absent goodness: she has made the change. From her that was, would ha' become this paper Had she conserved her first immaculate whiteness, It had been half profane, not to salute Her letter with a kiss, and touch it, with More veneration than a Sybil's leaf; But now all Ceremony must be held A superstition, to the blotted scroll, O a more stained writer— I'll not read: If unprepared, she win with her Discourse, What must she do, when she has time, and study, To apparel her defence? Deny her this. Well, I will read it. Here's Sir Iohn Belfare. Say any thing t'excuse me, beet your care That none approach the Chamber. So, so, now unrip the seal. Not speak with him, he must have stronger guard To keep me out: where's Beauford? Here. Then there's a Villain. That's course language. I must not spin it finer, till you make me Understand better, why my daughter, and In her, my family is abused. She has not then accused herself— I'll tell you, I did expect your daughter would have been My Virgin bride; but she reserved for me The ruins of her honour, I would not speak I'the rude dialect, you may sooner collect, An English. Is she not honest, will you Make her then a whore? Not I, her own sin made her. Thou liest, nor can my age make me appear Unworthy a satisfaction from thy sword. Does not he call my young mistress whore? Keep me not from him Captain he has in this Given a fresh wound, I came t'expostulate, The reason of a former suffering, Which unto this was charity, as thou art A Gentleman, I dare thee to the Combat: Contemn not Beauford my grey hairs, if thouhast A Noble soul, keep not this distance; meet me, Thou art a Soldier: for heaven's sake, permit me Chastise the most uncharitable slander Of this bad man. I never injured you. Not injured me? what is there then in nature, Left, to be called an injury? didst not mock Me, and my poor fond girl with marriage? Till all things were designed, the very day When Hymen should have worn his saffron robe: My friends invited, and prepared to call Her Bride; and yet, as if all this could not (Summed up together) make an injury: Does thy corrupted soul at last conspire To take her white name from her?— give me leave To express a Father, in a tear, or two, For my wronged child. O Beauford! thou hast robbed A father, and a daughter— but I woe not Usurp heaven's justice, which shall punish thee 'bove my weak arm; mayst thou live, to have Thy heart as ill rewarded, to be a father At my years, have one daughter, and no more Beloved as mine, so mocked, and then called Whore.
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)
To him that was — what? Confident of her Vertue Once an admirer, now a maurner for Her absent goodnesse: she has made the change. From her that was, would become this paper Had she conseru'd her first immaculate whitenesse, It had beene halfe prophane, not to salute Her letter with a kisse, and touch it, with More veneration then a Sybil leaf ▪ But now all Ceremony must be held A superstition, to the blotted scrole, O a more stained writer — Ile not reade: If vnprepar'd, she win with her Discourse, What must she do, when she has time, and study, To apparrell her defence? Deny her this. Well, I will read it. Here's Sir Iohn Belfare. Say any thing t'excuse me, beet your care That none approach the Chamber. So, so, now vnrip the seale. Not speak with him, he must haue stronger guard To keepe me out: where's Beauford? Here. Then there's a Villaine. That's course language. I must not spin it finer, till you make me Vnderstand better, why my daughter, and In her, my family is abus'd. Shee has not then accus'd her selfe—Ile tell you, I did expect your daughter would haue beene My Virgin bride; but she reseru'd for me The ruines of her honour, I wod not speake I'the rude dialect, you may sooner collect, An English. Is she not honest, will you Make her then a whore? No I, her owne sinne made her. Thou lyest, nor can my age make me appeare Vnworthy a satisfactio from thy sword. Does not he call my young mistresse whore? Keep me not from him Captaine he has in this Giuen a fresh wound, I came t'expostulate, The reason of a former suffering, Which vnto this was charity, as thou art A Gentle-man, I dare thee to the Combate: Contemne not Beauford my gray haires, if t'has A Noble soule, keepe not this distance; meete me, Thou art a Souldier: for heauens sake, permit me Chastise the most vncharitable slander Of this bad man. I neuer iniur'd you. Not iniur'd me? what is there then in nature, Left, to be cald an iniury? didst not mocke Me, and m poore fond girle with marriage? Till all things were design'd, the very day When Hymen should haue worne his saffron robe: My friends inuited, and prepar'd to call Her Bride; and yet, as if all this could not (Summ'd vp together) make an iniury: Does thy corrupted soule at last conspire To take her white name from her? —giue me leaue To expresse a Father, in a teare, or two, For my wrong'd child. O Beauford! thou hast rob A father, and a daughter—but I wo not Vsurpe heauens iustice, which shall punish thee 'Boue my weake arme; mayst thou liue, to haue Thy heart as ill rewarded, to be a father At my yeares, haue one daughter, and no more Belou'd as mine, so mock'd, and then cald Whore.