Davenant, William · published 1630 · first performed or written 1627 [licensed for stage, Jan 12] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Base stem, derived from I soap root, Our Ancestors were not so familiar. Behold, & grow more mannerly. What's here? My Pedigree? Some saucy knave Hath counseled him, to this affront. What he, I must know th'original projector. Lay hold upon those fools. Lay hold on me? Take off your hands; or I will toss ye all Into the clouds, and kick the Mountains after ye. I pray bid the Gentleman take good heed; For my Master, can do all this, and more too I have seen him. Be you quiet. You that desire Offices. If I do, what then? there be those desire Worse things. Know ye not Rogues, that I can muzzle up The testify Unicorn, in a spinner's thread? Lay all hold on him. He that cannot run for his Liberty Hath no courage in his Heels. Let the Gout Take him, that hath Legs, and won't use'em No matter, let him go. Convey that fool, Unto the porter's Lodge. A Chaos shall succeed this same. Whither so fast (sweet Lord!) Foreste, I have ta'en my leave o'th' Duke. Must ye away tonight. Now, presently. My followers attend At door. I only came to kiss thy hands. The Sun will fail ye, ere ye reach Lucca. I must through. His grace will have it so. Why dost thou make thy head, to shake and reel, Upon thy shoulders thus. Is it o'ercome With thoughts, and such as must be hid from me? Take heed, suspicion is the Favourite Of Time, and Nature, it takes a sudden growth: And gathers in the breast, like Balls of snow, In snow; until the weight make it deny To be removed: then melts at leisure too. He's too moderate, that will at my years, Be satisfied thus. Why then consider thus. You go to Lucca, There to congratulate the sate approach Of the pope's Legate; He hath been there a week; And why he was not visited ere this Or why upon such strict, and short summons. yourself must now be sent; quite puzzles me. Actions rare, and sudden, do commonly Proceed from fierce necessity: or else From some oblique design: which is ashamed, To show itself i'th' public Road. Foreste is this all? Why me sweet Patron: this is enough Of danger, since none is merited. Young thoughts encourage me to sufferance. Each storm is usher to a gentle calm: Why toils with speed, gets soonest home to rest. The plodding Mule shall sleep eternally. Why should the stricken deer bemoan his death: His obsequies, were full of noble rites: Actaeon's Choir, a jolly Requiem gave: And th' Arrow from the bow did sing his dirge. Thus thy years do riddle grief away; Making sorrow swift, because 'tis mortal. Let me wait, on your Lordship to your horse, And at your better leisure read this same. I'll tell ye as we go, who brought it me.
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)
Baſe ſtemme, deriu'd from I ſope roote, Our Anceſtors were not ſo familliar. Behold, & grow more mannerly. Whats heere? My Pedigree? Some ſawcy knaue Hath counſell'd him, to this affront. What he, I muſt know th'originall proiector. Lay hold vpon thoſe fooles. Lay hold on me? Take off your hands; or I will toſſe ye all Into the cloudes, and kicke the Mountaines after ye. I pray bid the Gentleman take good heede; For my Maſter, can doe all this, and more too I haue ſeene him. Be you quiet. You that deſire Offices. If I doe, what then? there be hoſe deſire Worſe things. Know ye not Rogues, that I can muzle vp The teſtifie Vnicorne, in a Spinners threed? Lay all hold on him. He that cannot runne for his Liberty Hath no courage in his Heeles. Let the Goute Take him, that hath Leggs, and w'ont vſe'em No matter, let him goe. Conuey that foole, Vnto the Porters Lodge. A Chaos ſhall ſucceed this ſame. Whither ſo faſt (ſweete Lord!) Foreſte, I haue tane my leaue o'th' Duke. Muſt ye away to night. Now, preſently. My followers attend At doore. I onely came to kiſſe thy hands. The Sunne will faile yee, ere ye reach Lucca. I muſt through. His grace will haue it ſo. Why doſt thou make thy head, to ſhake and reele, Vpon thy ſhoulders thus. Is it o'recome With thoughts, and ſuch as muſt be hid from me? Take heede, ſuſpition is the Fauorite Of Time, and Nature, it takes a ſudden grouth: And gathers in the breſt, like Balls of ſuow, In ſnow; vntill the weight make it deny To be remoou'd: then melts at leaſure too. He's too moderate, that will at my yeeres, Be ſatiſfied thus. Why then conſider thus. You goe to Lucca, There to congratulate the ſate aproach Of the Popes Legate; He hath bin there a weeke; And why he was not viſited ere this Or why vpon ſuch ſtrict, and ſhort ſummons. Your ſelfe muſt now be ſent; quite puzles me. Actions rare, and ſudden, doe commonly Proceed from fierce neceſsitie: or elſe From ſome oblique deſigne: which is aſham'd, To ſhew it ſelfe i'th' publique Rode. Foreſte is this all? Why me ſweete Patron: this is enough Of danger, ſince none is merited. Yong thoughts encourage me to ſufferance. Each ſtorme is vſher to a gentle calme: Why toyles with ſpeede, gets ſooneſt home to reſt. The plodding Mule ſhall ſleepe eternally. Why ſhould the ſtricken deare bemane his death: His obſequies, were full of noble rites: Acteons Quire, a iolly Requiem gaue: And th' Arrow from the bow did ſing his dirge. Thus thy yeeres doe riddle griefe away; Making ſorrow ſwift, becauſe 'tis mortall. Let me waite, on your Lordſhip to your horſe, And at your better leaſure read this ſame. I'le tell ye as we goe, who brought it me.