Massinger, Philip · published 1632 · first performed or written 1621 [1621-1622; prologue, 1629/30(?)] (Annals) tragicomedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
Since you are not To be brought lower, there is no evading I'll be your paymaster. we desire no better. But not a word of what's agreed between us, Till I have schooled my gallants. I am dumb, Sir. And where removed now? hath the Tyrant found out Worse usage for us? Worse it cannot be. My greyhound has fresh straw, and scraps in his kennel, But we have neither. Did I ever think To wear such garters on silk stockings? or That my too curious appetite, that turned At the sight of godwits, pheasant, partridge, quails Larks, woodcocks, calvered salmon, as course diet, Would leap at a mouldy crust? And go without it; So oft as I do, O how have I jeered The City entertainment. A huge shoulder Of glorious fat Ram Mutton, seconded With a pair of ta'en cats, or coneys, a crab tart With a worthy loin of veal, and valiant Capon, Mortified to grow tender. These I scorned From their plentiful horn of abundance, though invited: But now I could carry my own stool to a tripe, And call their chitterlings charity, and bless the founder. O that I were no farther sensible Of my miseries than you are! you like beasts Feel only stings of hunger, and complain not But when you are empty: but your narrow souls (If you have any) cannot comprehend How insupportable the torments are, Which a free and noble soul made captive, suffers: Most miserable men! and what am I then, That envy you? Fetters though made of gold, Express base thraldom and all delicates Prepared by Median cooks for Epicures, When not our own, are bitter quilts filled high With gossamer and roses, cannot yield The body soft repose, the mind kept waking With anguish and affliction. My good Lord. This is no time, nor place for flattery Sir, Pray you style me as I am, a wretch forsaken Of the world, as myself. I would it were In me to help you. I if that you want power Sir, Lip comfort cannot cure me, pray you leave me To mine own private thoughts. My valiant Nephew! And my more than warlike-ward! I am glad to see you After your glorious conquests. Are these chains Reward for your good service? If they are You should wear 'em on your necks (since they are massy) Like Aldermen of the war. You jeer us to! Good uncle name not (as you are a man of honour) That fatal word of war, the very sound of't Is more dreadful than a Cannon. But redeem us From this Captivity, and I'll vow hereafter Never to wear a sword, or cut my meat With a knife, that has an edge or point. I'll starve first I will cry broom or cat's meat in Palermo; Turn porter, carry burdens; any thing, Rather than live a soldier. This should have Been thought upon before. At what price think you Your two wise heads are rated?
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)
Since you are not To be brought lower, there is no evading I'll be your pay-master. Wee desire no better. But not a word of what's agreed between us, 'Till I have schoold my gallants. I am dumb, Sir. And where remov'd now? hath the Tyrant found out Worse usage for us? VVorse it cannot be. My grewhound has fresh straw, and scraps in his kennell, But wee have neyther. Did I ever thinke To weare such garters on silke stockings? or That my too curious appetite, that turn'd At the sight of godwits, pheasant, partidge, quases Larkes, wood-cocks, caluerd sammon, as course diet, Would leape at a mouldy crust? And goe without it; So of as I doe, O how haue I jeer'd The City entertainment. A huge shoulder Of glorious fat Ramme Mutton, seconded With a paire of taine cats, or conies, a crabbe tart With a worthy loyne of veale, and valiant Capon, Mortifi'd to grow tender. These I scorn'd From their plentifull horne of abudance, though invited: But now I could carry my owne stoole to a tripe, And call their chitterlings charity, and blesse the founder. O that I were no farther sensible Of my miseries then you are! you like beasts Fele onely stings of hunge, and complaine not But when you are empty: but your narrow soules (If you have any) cannot comprehend How insupportable the torments are, Which a free and oble soule made captie, suffers: Most miserable men! and what am I then, That enuy you? Fetters though made of gold, Expresse base thraldome and all delicates Prepar'd by Median cookes for Epicures, When not our owne, are bitter quilts fill'd high With gossamire and roses, cannot yeeld The body soft repose, the mind kep't waking With anguish and affliction. My good Lord. This is no time, nor place for flaterry Sir, Pray you stile me as I am, a wretch forsaken Of the world, as my selfe. I would it were In me to helpe you. I if that you want power Sir, Lip comfort cannot cure me, pray you leave mee To mine owne private thoughts. My valiant Nephew! And my more then warlike-ward! I am glad to see you After your glorious conquests. Are these chaines Rewardee for your good service? If they are You should weare 'em on your neks (since they are massie) Like Aldermen of the war. You jeere us to! Good uncle name not (as you are a man of honor) That fatall word of war, the very sounde of't Is more dreadfull then a Cannon. But redeeme us From this Captivitie, and I'll vow hereafter Never to weare a sword, or cut my meate With a knife, that has an edge or point. I'll starve first I will crie broome or cats meate in Palrm ; Turne porter, carrie burthens; any thing, Rather then live a souldier. This should have Beene thought upon before. At what price thinke you Your two wise heads are rated?