Davenant, William · published 1630 · first performed or written 1627 [licensed for stage, Jan 12] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.85 · 470 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
How can it choose But choke the very Soul, and bruise the Heart To think that such a giddy Snipe: a Fool (That merely lives to disparage Nature) Should creep to this ambitious government. Still he rules the Ruler. The Duke is Ward Unto a Page; whose Eyebrows wear more Beard, Then doth his Chin: And there's his Instrument, A dark fellow; that with disguised Looks Could cheat an Hypocrite, older than Time. I've heard a better Character of both, Such, as to the young Count, Wit, and valour gives: Unto forest, honest Spirits. Report is then become a Bawd to Luck; Whom Fortune do henrich, Fame doth flatter. Sure this tame Priest will make us all Cowards. We must a truce confirm with Genoa. Well, be it so. Where now (my noble Boy) Shall I occasion find, to testify That you deserve my love, by virtue of your own? In sickly times, when War and civil Spleen Besiege the Heart, with treacherous designs, A friend shall find a cause to make him known, But now in fair weather: I need not ask What hovel's near? In this, I dare discredit Fate. They are not so wealthy in affliction: With sorrow so well stored; as could suffice To try my sufferance: in the behalf Of you my Prince, and still royal Master. Dar'st thou then die for me? Here— make thyself a sacrifice to Fame, Take it: and I will be thy Chronicler. It were (Sir) but ingratitude in me To lessen thus, the number sanctified Of your true friends. Be you pleased to sheathe it, In that same part, which you do most abhor. O Lucio! thou art my Earwig now, Creepest in my ear, to feast upon my Brains. When in my private grave I lie enclosed, More silent than my ruined Fame: no tongue Shall pay his tribute to my memory But thine: for thou art likely to survive. Thy years are few, but full of gratitude.— Come: hie we to the Park: The sprightful morn Gives motion wings, and liberty to those Whom lameness stakes unto the ground. Royal dotard, like tinder, thou dost waste Thy forced fire: to give another light Whose saucy flame will darken thine. Monstrous! Why dost thou spend thy gall in secret thus? A pox upon't: turn thoughts to action: Heaven knows, I had rather enrich myself, Then envy others wealth. Employ thy brain. Get the Duke's fist to this; and thou shalt share Five hundred Crowns. What is't? The old business. And not yet signed: This 'tis to be modest. Had I had reputation in thy Creed It had been done long since. There's my agent. Hence and provide me thanks. Save you Signior. You may with charity. Am I in your remembrance sir? Signior Castruchio, as I take you.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
How can it chooſe But choke the very Soule, and bruſe the Heart To thinke that ſuch a giddy Snipe: a Foole (That meerely liues to diſparage Nature) Should creepe to this ambitious gouernment. Still he rules the Ruler. The Duke is Ward Vnto a Page; whoſe Eie-browes weare more Beard, Then doth his Chinne: And there's his Inſtrument, A darke fellow; that with dſguiſed Lookes Coud cheat an Hypocrite, older then Time. I'ue heard a better Character of both, Such, as to the young Count, Witt, and vallour giues: Vnto Foreſte, honeſt Spirits. Rport is then become a Bawde to Luck; Whom Fortune do henrich, Fame doth flatter. Sure this tame Prieſt will make vs all Cowards. We muſt a truce confirme with Genoa. Well, be it ſo. Where now (my noble Boy) Shall I occaſion finde, to teſtifie That you deſerue my loue, by vertue of your owne? In ſickely times, when Warre and ciuill Spleene Beſiege the Heart, with treacherous deſignes, A friend ſhall find a cauſe to make him knowne, But now in faire weather: I neede not aske What Houell's nere? In this, I dare diſcredite Fate. They are not ſo wealthy in affliction: With ſorrow ſo well ſtor'd; as could ſuffice To trie my ſufferance: in the behalfe Of you my Prince, and ſtill royall Maſter. Dar'ſt thou then die for me? Heere—make thy ſelfe a ſacrifice to Fame, Take it: and I will be thy Chronicler. It were (Sir) but ingratitude in me To lſſen thus, the number ſanctifide Of your true friends. Be you pleas'd to ſheath it, In that ſame part, which you doe moſt abhorre. O Lucio! thou art my Earewg now, Creep'ſt in my eare, to feaſt vpon my Braines. When in my priuate graue I lye inclos'd, More ſilent then my ruin'd Fame: no tongue Shall pay his tribute to my memory But thine: for thou art likely to ſuruiue. Thy yeares are few, but full of gratitude.— Come: hye we to the Parke: The ſprightfull morne Giues motion wings, and libertie to thoſe Whom lameneſſe ſtakes vnto the ground. Royall dotard, like tinder, thou doſt waſte Thy forced fire: to giue another light Whoſe ſawcy flame will darken thine. Monſtrous! Why doſt thou ſpend thy gall in ſecret thus? A pox vpon't: turne thoughts to action: Heauen knowes, I had rather enrich my ſelfe, Then enuy others wealth. Imploy thy brayne. Get the Dukes fiſt to this; and thou ſhalt ſhare Fiue hundred Crownes. What is't? The old buſineſſe. And not yet ſign'd: This t'is to be modeſt. Had I had reputation in thy Creede It had beene done long ſince. There's my agent. Hence and prouide me thanks. Saue you Signior. You may with charitie. Am I in your remembrance ſir? Signior Caſtruchio, as I take you.