Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip · published 1632 · first performed or written 1619 [1617-1619] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
We doubt the cause, and will not disparage you, so much as to take your Lordship's quarrel in hand. Plague on him, how he has crumpled our bands. I'll e'en away with 'em, for this soldier beats man, woman, and child. What mean you, sir? My people. Your boy's gone, And door's locked, yet for no hurt to you, But privacy: call up your blood again, sir, be not afraid, I do Beseech you, sir, (and therefore come) without more circumstance Tell me how far the passages have gone 'Twixt you, and your fair Mistress Beaumelle. Tell me the truth, and by my hope of Heaven It never shall go further. Tell you why sir? Are you my confessor? I will be your confounder, if you do not. Stir not, nor spend your voice. What will you do? Nothing but line your brainpan, sir, with lead, If you not satisfy me suddenly, I am desperate of my life, and command yours. Hold, hold, i'll speak. I vow to heaven and you, she's yet untouched, more than her face and hands: I cannot call her innocent; for I yield On my solicitous wrongs she consented Where time and place met opportunity To grant me all requests. But may I build on this assurance? As upon your faith. Write this, sir, nay you must. Pox of this Gun. Withal, sir, you must swear, and put your oath Under your hand, (shake not) ne'er to frequent This lady's company, nor ever send Token, or message, or letter, to incline This (too much prone already) yielding Lady. 'Tis done, sir. Let me see, this first is right, And here you wish a sudden death may light Upon your body, and hell take your soul, If ever more you see her, but by chance, Much less allure her. Now, my Lord, your hand. My hand to this? Your heart else I assure you. Nay, there 'tis. So keep this last article Of your faith given, and stead of threatenings sir, The service of my sword and life is yours: But not a word of it, 'tis Fairy's treasure; Which but revealed, brings on the blabbers, ruin. Use your youth better, and this excellent form Heaven hath bestowed upon you. So good morrow to your Lordship. Good devil to your rogueship. No man's safe: I'll have a Cannon planted in my chamber, Against such roaring rogues. My Lord away The Coach stays: now have your wish, and judge, If I have been forgetful. Ha? D''ee stand Humming and hawing now? Sweet wench, I come. Hence fear, I swore, that's all one, my next oath I 'll keep That I did mean to break, and then 'tis quit. No pain is due to lover's perjury. If love himself laugh at it, so will I. I grieve for the distaste, though I have manners, Not to inquire the cause, fall'n out between Your Lordship and Romont.
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)
We doubt the cause, and will not disparage you, so much as to take your Lordships quarrell in hand. Plague on him, how he has crumpled our band. le eene away with 'em, for this souldier beates man, woman, and child. What meane you, sir? My people. You boye's gone, And doore's lockt, yet for no hurt to you, But priuacy: call vp your blood againe, sir be not affraid, I do Bseech you, sir, (and therefore come) without more circumstance Tell me how farre the passages haue gone 'Twixt you, and your faire Mistresse Beaumelle. Tell me the truth, and by my hope of Heauen It neuer shall goe further. Tell you why sir? Are you my confessor? I will be your confounder, if you doe not. Stirre not, nor spend your voyce. What will you doe? Nothing but lyne your brayne-pan, sir, with lead, If you not satisfie me suddenly, I am desperate of my life, and command yours. Hold, hold, ile speake. I vow to heauen and you, Shee's yet vntouch't, more then her face and hands: cannot call her innocent; for I yeeld On my sollicitous wrongs she consented Where time and place met oportunity To grant me all requests. But may I build on this assurance? As vpon your fayth. Write this, sir, nay you must. Pox of this Gunne. Withall, sir, you must sweare, and put your oath Vnder your hand, (shake not) ne're to frequent This Ladies company, nor euer send Token, or message, or letter, to incline This (too much prone already) yeelding Lady. 'Tis done, sir. Let me see, this first is right, And hre you wish a sudden death my light Vpon your body, and hell take your soule, If euer more you see her, but by chance, Much lesse allure her. Now, my Lord, your hand. My hand to this? Your heart else I assure you. Nay, there 'tis. So keepe this last article Of your fayth giuen, and stead of threatnings sir, The seruice of my sword and life is yours: But not a word of it, 'tis Fairies treasure; Which but reueal'd, brings on the blabbrs, ruine. Vse your youth better, and this excellent forme Heauen hath bestowed vpon you. So good morrow to your Lordship. Good diuell to your rogueship. No man's safe Ile haue a Cannon planted in my chamber, Against such roaring roagues. My Lord away The Coach stayes: now haue your wish, and iudge, If I haue bene forgetfull. Ha? D'ee stand Humming and hawing now? Sweete wench, I come. Hence feare, I swore, that's all one, my next oath 'ile keepe That I did meane to breake, and then 'tis quit. No paine is due to louers periury. If loue himselfe lugh at it, so will I. I grieue for the distaste, though I haue manners, No o inquire the cause, fle out betweene Your Lordship and Romont.