Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip · published 1632 · first performed or written 1619 [1617-1619] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T46 Swords, quarrels and valour · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T46: rapier, sword, fight, gentlemen, gentleman, kicked, kill, dagger, signor, valour.
Aim. Humph— I prithee cure him of 'em. Pish: no more, Thy gall sure's overthrown; these are my Council, And we were now in serious discourse. Of perfume and apparel, can you rise And spend 5 hours in dressing talk, with these? Thou'dst have me be a dog: up, stretch and shake, And ready for all day. Sir, would you be More curious in preserving of your honour. Trim, 'twere more manly. I am come to wake Your reputation, from this lethargy You let it sleep in, to persuade, importune, Nay, to provoke you, sir, to call to account This Colonel Romont, for the foul wrong Which like a burden, he hath laid on you, And like a drunken porter, you sleep under. 'Tis all the town talks, and believe, sir, If your tough sense persist thus, you are undone, Utterly lost, you will be scorned and baffled By every lackey; season now your youth, With one brave thing, and it shall keep the odour Even to your death, beyond, and on your Tomb, Sent like sweet oils and Frankincense; sir, this life Which once you saved, I ne'er since counted mine, I borrowed it of you; and now will pay it; I tender you the service of my sword To bear your challenge, if you'll write, your fate: I'll make mine own: whate'er betide you, I That have lived by you, by your side will die. Ha, ha, wouldst ha' me challenge poor Romont? Fight with close breeches, thou mayst think I dare not. Do not mistake me (coz) I am very valiant, But valour shall not make me such an Ass. What use is there of valour (nowadays?) 'Tis sure, or to be killed, or to be hanged. Fight thou as thy mind moves thee, 'tis thy trade, Thou hast nothing else to do; fight with Romont? No, i'll not fight under a Lord. Farewell, sir, I pity you. Such loving Lords walk their dead honours graves, For no companions fit, but fools and knaves. Come Malotin. 'Sfoot, Colbran, the low giant. He has brought a battle in his face, let's go. Colbran d''ee call him? he'll make some of you smoke, I believe. By your leave, sirs. Are you a Consort? D''ee take me for A fiddler? you're deceived: look. I'll pay you. It seems he knows you one, he bumfiddles you so. Was there ever so base a fellow? A rascal? A most uncivil Groom? Offer to kick a Gentleman, in a Nobleman's chamber? A pox of your manners Let him alone, let him alone, thou shalt lose thy arm, fellow: if we stir against thee, hang us. 'Sfoot, I think they have the better on him though they be kicked, they talk so. Let's leave the mad Ape. Gentlemen. Nay, my Lord, we will not offer to dishonour you so much as to stay by you, since he's alone. Hark 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)
Aym. Humph— I prethee cure him of 'em. Pish: no more, Thy gall sure's ouerthrowne; these are my Councell, And we were now in serious discourse. Of perfume and apparell, can you rise And spend 5 houres in drssing talke, with these? Thou 'ldst haue me be a dog: vp, stretch and shake, And ready for all day. Sir, would you be More curious in preseruing of your honour. Trim, 'twere more manly. I am come to wake Your reputation, from this lethargy You let it sleepe in, to perswade, importune, Nay, to prouoke you, sir, to call to account This Collonell Romont, for the foule wrong Which like a buthen, he hath layd on you, And like a dunken porter, you sleepe vnder. 'Tis all the towne tlkes, and beleeue, sir, If your tough sence persist thus, you are vndone, Vtterly lost, you will be scornd and bafled By euery Lacquay; season now your youth, With one braue thing, and it shall keep the odour Euen to your death, beyond, and on your Tombe, Sent like sweet oyles and Frankincense; sir, this life Which once you sau'd, I ne're since counted mine, I borrow'd it of you; and now will pay it; I tender you the serice of my sword To beare your challenge, if you'l write, your fate: Ile make mine owne: what ere betide you, I That haue liu'd by you, by your side will dye. Ha, ha, would'st ha' me challenge poore Romont? Fight with close breeches, thou mayst thinke I dare not. Doe not mistake me (cooze) I am very valiant, But valour shall not make me such an Asse. What vse is there of valour (now a dayes?) 'Tis sure, or to be kill'd, or to be hang'd. Fight thou as thy minde moues thee, 'tis thy trade, Thou hast nothing else to doe; fight with Romont? No, i'le not fight vnder a Lord. Farewell, sir, I pitty you. Such louing Lords walke their dead honours graues, For no companions fit, but fooles and knaues. Come Malotin. 'Sfoot, Colbran, the low gyant. He has brought a battaile in his face, let's goe. Colbran d'ee call him? hee'l make some of you smoake, I beleeue. By your leaue, sirs. Are you a Consort? D'ee take me for A fidler? ya're deceiu'd: looke. Ile pay you. It seemes he knows you one, he bumfiddles you so Was there euer so base a fellow? A rascall? A most vnciuill Groome? Offer to kicke a Gentleman, in a Noblemans chamber? A pox of your manners Let him alone, let him alone, thou shalt lose ty arme, fellow: if wee stirre agaist thee, hang vs. S'foote, I thinke they haue the better on him though they be kickd, they talke so. Let's leaue the mad Ape. Gentlemen. Nay, my Lord, we will not offer to dishonour you so much as to stay by you, since hee's alone. Harke you.