Dekker, Thomas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1611 [c.1611-c.1613; re-licensed for stage, Aug 21, 1623] (Annals) tragicomedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) · Red Bull unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
I beseech you Let me shake off the golden fetters you tie About my body, you enjoy a body Without a soul, for I am now not here. Where then. At home in my poor husband's arms, This is your Court, that mine. Your husband's arms, Thou art his whore, he played the thief and robbed Another of thee, and to spoil the spoiler, Is Kingly justice, 'tis a lawful prize That's ta'en from Pirates; there's are fellow wives. Which of your subjects (which abroad adore Your state, your greatness, presence and your throne Of sun beams) think you now are with a wanton, Or working a chaste wife to become one. I work thee not to be so, for when time Shall jog his glass and make those sands lie low Which now are at the top, thyself shalt grow In self same place my Queen does. What tree ever stood Long and deep rooted, that was set in blood; I will not be your whore to wear your Crown. Nor call any King my Husband, but mine own. No! No 'twere shame 'mongst all our City Dames If one could not scape free, their blasted fames. The sound of Bells and Timbrels make you mad As it does a Tiger, the softer that I stroke you The worse you bite, your father and your Husband Are at my sending come to Court, I'll lay Honours on both their backs, here they shall stay Because I'll keep you here, if you do frown The engine which rears up, shall pluck all down. I'll fetch 'em to you myself. Oh who can stifling scape in baser throngs, When Princes Courts threaten the selfsame wrongs! Y'ave the best welcome which the Court can yield, For the King gives it you. Your Grace is gracious. Is this your Father? My proper flesh and blood Sir. And that your Husband? Not I sir; I married an honest wench that went in a cap, no whim-whams; I did but shuffle the first dealing, you cut last, and dealt last, by the same token you turned up a Court Card. Is the man jealous! No, but a little troubled with the yellow Jaundice, and you know if it get to the Crown of the head, a man's gone. We send not for you hither to be braved, Sirrah cast your darts elsewhere. Amongst the wild Irish Sir hereafter. 'Tis our queen's pleasure that your wife be called Her woman, and because she will not lose her, She hath importuned us to raise you both; Your name sir? Mine, Andrada Malevento. Andrada Malevento we make you vice-admiral of our Navy. Oh spiteful Comedy, he's not a Courtier of half an hour's standing, and he's made a Vice already. We make thy Husband— A Cuckold do you not. Son you forget yourself. Meddle with your own office; there's one will look that none meddles with mine.
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)
I beseech you Let me shake off the golden fetters you tye About my body, you inioy a body Without a soule, for I am now not heere. Where then. At home in my poore husbands armes, This is your Court, that mine. Your husbands armes, Thou art his whore, he plai'd the theefe and rob'd Another of thee, and to spoyle the spoyler, Is Kingly iustice, 'tis a lawfull prize That's ta'ne from Pirates; there's are fellow wiues. Which of your subiects (which abroad adore Your state, your greatnesse, presence and your throne Of sunne beames) thinke you now are with a wanton, Or working a chast wife to become one. I worke thee not to be so, for when time Shall iog his glasse and make those sands lye low Which now are at the top, thy selfe shalt grow In selfe same place my Queene does. What tree euer stood Long and deepe rooted, that was set in blood; I will not be your whore to weare your Crowne. Nor call any King my Husband, but mine owne. No! No 'twere shame 'mongst all our City Dames If one could not scape free, their blasted fames. The sound of Bels and Timbrels make you mad As it does a Tyger, the softer that I stroke you The worse you bite, your father and your Husband Are at my sending come to Court, Ile lay Honours on both their backs, here they shall stay Because Ile keepe you here, if you doe frowne The engine which reares vp, shall plucke all downe. Ile fetch 'em to you my selfe. Oh who can stifling scape in baser throngs, When Princes Courts threaten the selfe-same wrongs! Y'aue the best welcome which the Court can yeeld, For the King giues it you. Your Grace is gracious. Is this your Father? My proper flesh and bloud Sir. And that your Husband? Not I sir; I married an honest wench that went in a cap, no whim whams; I did but shuffle the first dealing, you cut last, and dealt last, by the same token you turn'd vp a Court Card. Is the man iealous! No, but a little troubled with the yellow Iaundize, and you know if it get to the Crowne of the head, a man's gon. We send not for you hither to be brau'd, Sirrah cast your darts elsew here. Amongst the wild Irish Sir hereafter. 'Tis our Queenes pleasure that your wife be call'd Her woman, and because she will not loose her, She hath importun'd vs to raise you both; Your name sir? Mine, Andrada Maleuento. Andrada Maleuento we make you Vice-Admirall of our Nauy. Oh spitefull Comedy, he's not a Courtier of halfe an houres standing, and he's made a Vice already. We make thy Husband— A Cuckold doe you not. Sonne you forget your selfe. Meddle with your owne office; there's one will looke that none meddles with mine.