Davenant, William · published 1630 · first performed or written 1629 [licensed for stage, Oct 2] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
My true opinion sir concerning you. I know you do but counterfeit this lust, This lawless heat. You purpose not t'abuse the Charter of my Bed, Who told ye so? I read it in your noble feature and Your looks. You have Religion in your shape. And can it be, you should so soon commit a crime So much unwholesome to the angel's sight? Let me now make a forfeiture of Eyes, If ever I beheld a man that's more obliged To Nature for his Limbs: A carnal frame So full of equal strength I never saw. The better shaped I am (Sir) the more cause You'll find, to love the Issue I shall get Upon your wife. Do not belie thy own True merits and comport! Th'adulterate fire Did ne'er inflame thy sober heart, I know Thou scorn'st to do't. Not I believe it Sir! Sir I will do't. Is your Lady fruitful? I would be loath t'lose my labour on her? Pestilence! and blood! Fling a danger from Thy arm, I'll summon straight (with Trumpet and with Drum) the world to hear thy infamy— O fie! You an Italian Sir, and thus Behave the knowledge of disgrace with loud And popular dislike? Nay it becomes You finely, does it not? You think because Y'are cursed, we'll allow you short Horns: I'll graft Upon your head a pair so tall, they shall Go near to prick the very Planet (Sir) Thet ruled at your nativity. He sleeps. Signior, go! take down a Cushion, and pray! You cannot choose but know the frailty of The times: the surfeits of the womb, and how Great Ladies do relieve their Appetites. Your own confession of my parts commends Your wife in her sage choice. There be that sin With feeble ushers and the withered Dwarf. He wants a judgement to consider this. I merit better looks Sir, that must thrash All night for ye, and without wages Sir! Dead as a monument! Let us leave him!— Had he the Devil for's Physician chose, He could ne'er have come by the like Cordial.— You swelling mountains (that o'erview the Earth) Fall now, make me eternally unseen! Philosophy contract thy meek sage brow: Let Patience be no more thy Saint. As soon Give medicines to the dead, teach statues how To walk, and angry winds to sleep i'th' North. As soon bid empty Lions play with Kids; And to the shaggy Scythian say, Go weep As Virgins do, when they their Loves inter: The blind and shuffled Elements that first In Chaos strove, were not so opposite As this Religious frost unto my heat. Patience, thou art more fond than teeming wives, Tamer than sheep! Divinity which calls Our anger sin, and courage pride, hath sent This silly cherubin on Earth, Patience, (The coward's sword) which only doth disarm Dull sleep, that neither can nor would do harm.
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)
My true opinion ſir concerning you. I know you doe but countrfeit this luſt, This lawleſſe heate. You purpoſe not t'abuſe the Charter of my Bed, Who told ye ſo? I read it in your noble feature and Your lookes. You haue Religion in your ſhape. And can it be, you ſhould ſo ſoone commit a crime So much vnwholſome to the Angels ſight? Let me now make a forfeiture of Eyes, If euer I beheld a man that's more oblig'd To Nature for his Limmes: A carnall frame So full of equall ſtrength I neuer ſaw. The better ſhap'd I am (Sir) the more cauſe You'le find, to loue the Iſſue I ſhall get Vpon your wife. Doe not belie thy owne True merits and comport! Th'adulterate fire Did nere inflame thy ſober heart, I know Thou ſcornſt to do't. Not I beleeue it Sir! Sir I will doe't. Is your Lady fruitfull? I would be loath t'looſe my labour on her? Peſtilence! and blood! Fling a danger from Thy arme, I'le ſummon ſtrait (with Trumpet and with Drumme) the world to heare thy infamie— O fie! You an Italian Sir, and thus Behaue the knowledge of diſgrace with lowd And popular diſlike? Nay it becomes You finelie, does it not? You thinke becauſe Y'are curſ'd, we'le allow you ſhort Hornes: I'le graft Vpon your head a paire ſo tall, they ſhall Goe neere to pricke the verie Planet (Sir) Thet rul'd at your natiuitie. He ſleepes. Signior, goe! take downe a Cuſhion, and pray▪ You cannot chooſe but know the frailty of The times: the ſurfeits of the wombe, and how Great Ladies doe relieue their Appetites. Your owne confeſſion of my parts commends Your wife in her ſage choice. There be that ſinne With feeble vſhers and the witherd Dwarfe. He wants a iudgement to conſider this. I merit better looks Sir, that muſt thraſh All night for ye, and without wages Sir! Dead as a monument! Let vs leaue him!— Had he the Deuill for's Phyſitian choſe, He could nere haue come by the like Cordiall.— You ſwelling mountains (that oreuiew the Earth) Fall now, make me eternally vnſeene! Philoſophie contract thy meeke ſage brow: Let Patience be no more thy Saint. As ſoone Giue med'cines to the dead, teach ſtatues how To walke, and angry windes to ſleepe i'th North. As ſoone bid emptie Lions play with Kids; And to the ſhaggie Scythian ſay, Goe weepe As Virgines doe, when they their Loues interre: The blind and ſhuffled Elements that firſt In Chaos ſtroue, were not ſo oppoſite As this Religious froſt vnto my heate. Patience, thou art more fond then teeming wiues, Tamer then ſſeepe! Diuinitie which calls Our anger ſinne, and courage pride, hath ſent This ſillie Cherubine on Earth, Patience, (The Cowards ſword) which onlie doth diſarme Dull ſleepe, that neither can nor would doe harme.