Massinger, Philip · published 1632 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, Mar 11] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
My vigilance, since it hath well succeeded. I am confident, you allow of, yet it is not Approved by all. Who dares repine at that, Which hath our suffrage? One that too well knows, The strength of her abilities can better My weak endeavours. In this you reflect Upon my Empress? True, for as she is The consort of your bed, 'tis fit she share in Your cares, and absolute power. You touch a string That sounds but harshly to me, and I must In a brother's love advise you that hereafter You would forbear to move it. Since she is In her pure self a harmony of such sweetness, Composed of duty, chaste desires, her beauty (Though it might tempt a Hermit from his beads) The least of her endowments. I am sorry Her holding the first place, since that the second Is proper to yourself, calls on your envy. she err? it is impossible in a thought, And much more speak, or do what may offend me. In other things, I would believe you sister: But though the tongues of Saints, and Angels taxed her Of any imperfection, I should be Incredulous. she is yet a woman Sir. The abstract of what's excellent in the sex: But to their mulcts, and frailties a mere stranger; I'll die in this belief. Your humblest servant, The Lord Paulinus, as a witness of His zeal, and duty to your Majesty, Presents you with this jewel. Ha! It is Preferred by him. Above his honour? No Sir, I would have said his patrimony, 'Tis the same. And he entreats, since lameness may excuse His not presenting it himself, from me (Though far unworthy to supply his place) You would vouchsafe to accept it. Farther off, You have told your tale. Stay you for a reward? Take that. How's this? I never saw him moved thus. we must not part so Sir, a guard upon him. May I not vent my sorrows in the air, Without discovery? forbear the room, Yet be within call, what an earthquake I feel in me? And on the sudden my whole fabric totters. My blood within me turns, and through my veins Parting with natural redness I discern it, Changed to a fatal yellow: what an army Of hellish furies in the horrid shapes Of doubts, and fears, charge on me! rise to my rescue, Thou stout maintainer of a chaste wife's honour, The confidence of her virtues; be not shaken With the wind of vain surmises, much less suffer The devil jealousy to whisper to me My curious observation of that I must no more remember. Will it not be? Thou uninvited guest, ill mannered monster, I charge thee leave me, wilt thou force me to Give fuel to that fire I would put out? The goodness of my memory proves my mischief, And I would sell my Empire, could it purchase The dull art of forgetfulness. Who waits there? Most sacred Sir.
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 vigilance, since it hath well succeeded. I am confident, you allow of, yet it is not Approu'd by all. Who dares repine at that, Which hath our suffrage? One that too well knowes, The strength of her abilities can better My weake endeuours. In this you reflect Vpon my Empresse True, for as shee is The consort of your bed, 'tis fit shee shre in Your cares, and absolute power. You touch a string That sowndes but harshely to mee, and I must In a brothers loue aduise you that heereafter You would forbeare to moue it. Since shee is In her pure selfe a harmonie of such sweetenesse, Compos'd of dutie, chaste desires, her beautie (Though it might tempt a Hermit from his beades) The least of her endowment. I am sorrie Her holding the first place, since that the second Is proper to your selfe, calls on your enuie. Shee erre? it is impossible in a thought, And much more speake, or doe what may offend mee. In other things, I would beleeue you sister: But though the tongues of Saints, and Angells tax'd her Of any imperfection, I should be Incredulous. Shee is yet a woman Sir The abstract of what's excellent in the sex: But to their mulct, and frayleties a meere stranger; Ile dye in this beleefe. Your humblet seruant, The Lord Paulinus, as a winesse of His zeale, and dutie to your Maiestie, Presents you with this iewell. Ha! It is Preferr'd by him. Aboue his honor? No Sir, I would haue said his patrimonie, 'Tis the same. And he intreates, since lamenesse may excuse His not presenting it himselfe, from mee (Though far vnworthy to supplie his place) You would vouchsafe to accept it. Farther off, You haue told your tale. Stay you for a reward? Take that. How's this? I neuer saw him mou'd thus. Wee must not part so Sir, a guarde vpon him. May I not vent my sorrowes in the aire, Without discouerie? forbeare the roome, Yet be within call, what an earth-quake I feele in mee? And on the suddaine my whole fabrick totters. My blood within mee turnes, and through my vaines Parting with naturall rednesse I discerne it, Chang'd to a fatall yellow: what an army Of hellish fuies in the horrid shapes Of doubts, and feares, charge on mee! rise to my rescue, Thou stout maintainer of a chaste wies honor, The confidence of her vertu; ee not shaken With the wind of vaine surmises, much lesse suffer The diuell iealousie to whisper to mee My curious obseruation of that I must no more remember. Will it not bee? Thou vninuited ghest, ill mannerd monster, I charge thee leaue mee, wilt thou force mee to Giue fuell to that fire I would put out? The goodnesse of my memorie proues my mischief, And I would sell my Empire, could it purchase The dull art of forgetfulnesse. Who waites there? Most sacred Sir.