Massinger, Philip · published 1632 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, Mar 11] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 532 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
Who waits? come all. Nay sister not so near, being of the sex, I fear you are infected to. What mean you? To show you a miracle, a prodigy Which Afrique never: equalled can you think This master piece of heaven, this precious velum, Of such a purity, and virgin whiteness, Could be designed to have perjury, and whoredom In capital letters writ upon't? Dear Sir, Nay add to this an impudence beyond All prostituted boldness. Art not dead yet? Will not the tempests in thy conscience rend thee As small as Atoms that there may no sign Be left, thou ever were so! wilt thou live Till thou art blasted with the dreadful lightning Of pregnant, and unanswerable proofs, Of thy adulterous twines? die yet that I With my honour may conceal it. Would long since, The Gorgon of your rage had turned me marble, Or if I have offended? If! good Angels! But I am tame: look on this dumb accuser. O I am lost! Did ever cormorant swallow his prey and then digest it whole As she hath done this apple? Philanax, As 'tis, from me presented it. The good Lady Swore she had eaten it; yet I know not how It came entire unto Paulinus hands, And I from him received it, sent in scorn Upon my life to give me a close touch, That he was weary of thee. Was there nothing Left thee to see him, to give satisfaction To thy insatiate lust, but what was sent As a dear favour from me? how have I sinned In my dotage on this creature? but to her I have lived, as I was borne, a perfect virgin. Nay more I thought it not enough to be True to her bed, but that I must feed high, To strengthen my abilities to cloy Her ravenous appetite, little suspecting She would desire a change. I never did Sir. Be dumb, I will not waste my breath in taxing Thy base ingratitude. How I have raised thee, Will by the world be to thy shame spoke often. But for that ribawd, who held in my Empire The next place to myself, so bound unto me By all the ties of duty, and allegiance He shall pay dear for't, and feel what it is In a wrong of such high consequence to pull down, His Lords slow anger on him. Philanax, he's troubled with the gout, let him be cured With a violent death, and in the other world, Thank his Physician. His cause unheard Sir? Take heed of rashness. Is what I command, To be disputed? Your will shall be done Sir: But that I am the instrument— Do you murmur? What couldst thou say if that my licence should, Give liberty to this tongue? thou wouldst die? I am not So to be reconciled, See me no more. The sting of conscience ever gnawing on thee, A long life be thy punishment. O sweet Lady How I could weep for her! Speak dear Madam, speak. Your tongue as you are a Woman, while you live, Should be ever moving, at the least the last part That stirs about you.
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)
Who waites? come all. Nay sister not so neere, being of the sex, I feare you are infected to. What meane you? To show you a miracle, a prodigie Which Affrick neuer: equall'd can you think This master peece of heauen, this pretious vellam, Of such a puritie, and virgin whitenesse, Could be design'd to haue periurie, and whoredome In capitall letters writ vpon't? Deere Sir, Nay adde to this n impudence beyond All prostituted boldnesse. Art not dead yet? Will not the tempests in thy conscience rende thee As small as Atomes that there may no signe Be left, thou euer wer so! wilt thou liue Till thou art blasted with the dreadfull lightning Of pregnant, and vnanswerable proofes, Of thy adulterous twines? dye yet that I With my honor may conceale it. Would long since, The Gorgon of your rage had turn'd mee marble, Or if I haue offended? If! good Angels! But I am tame: looke on this dombe accuser. O I am lost! Did euer cormorant Swollow his pray and then digest it whole As shee hath done this apple? Philanax, As'tis, from me presented it. The good Lady Swore shee had eaen it; yet I know not how It came intire vnto Paulinu hands, And I from him receau'd it, sent in scorne Vpon my life to giue me a close touch, That he was wearie of thee. Was there nothing Left thee to see him, to giue satisfaction To thy insatiate lust, but what was sent As a decrefauour from mee? how haue I ind In my doage on this creature? but to her I haue liu'd, as I was borne, a perfit virgin. Nay more I thought it not enough to be True to her bed, but that I must feede high, To strengthen my abilities to cloye Her rauenous appetite, little suspecting Shee would desire a change. I neuer did Sir. Be dumbe, I will not waste my breath in taxing Thy base ingratitude. How I haue rais'd thee, Will by the world be to thy shame spoke often. But for that ribawd, who held in my Empire The next place to my selfe, so bound vnto me By all the tyes of duty, and allegeance Hee shall pay deere for't, and feele what it is In a wrong of such high consequence to pull downe, His Lords slow anger on him. Philanax, Hee's troubl'd with the goute, let him be cur'd With a violent death, and in the other world, Thanke his Physitian. His cause vnheard Sir? Take heede of rashnesse. Is what I command, To bee disputed? Your will shall bee done Sir: But that I am the instrument — Doe you murmur? What couldst thou say if that my licence should, Giue liberty to this tongue? thou would'st dye? I am not So to bee reconcil'd, See mee no more. The sting of conscience euer gnawing on thee, A long life bee thy punishment. O sweete Lady How I could weepe for her! Speake deare Madam, speake. Your tongue as you are a Woman, while you liue, Should bee euer mouing, at the least the last part That stirrs about you.