Rowley, William · published 1633 · first performed or written 1619 [c.1619-1620(?)] (Annals) tragedy · Prince Charles's Men (first) · Phoenix/Cockpit 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.
Good spirit yffaith; Even such a soldier have I left behind, I had much ado to keep her from the field, Poor Jacinta, had I known such a sworn sister for her I should almost have given her leave. I'll tell you Sir, Were there a band of buskined Amazons That would tuck up their skirts, and strike indeed My girl should wear bright Menalippa's belt She should be foremost; and I'll venture her. Is she such a striker, my Lord? All at head, nowhere else, believe me Sir, we hold it base. To strike below the waist. You fight high Lady. So she does at heart I think, So, so, to her bachelor, Antonio, Lzarelle, Mdi, Come Alz, You and I must treat more seriously upon our war intendments. The general wrongs you to call you bachelor, Antonio. Would he did not wrong me. Have not you a cordiac A heart fever now, ha? Do you think there is A Phoenix now, is there but one good face In the world? I see nothing in her face, Prithee attempt to make her speak again. Her tongue? nay if you like her tongue, you must needs Like her tail, for the one utters the other: Lady What would you give now for Moores heads by the dozen? I would buy by the score Sir. And what a score then? Chalk best for the score, every alewife knows that. You talk of chalk, and I of cheese. he's in the last dish, pray take him away here. I have not done yet, will you buy any ware of me? What? proffered ware? foh. Give o'er, thou wilt be foiled else. Why, here's a wench now, I had rather I'll with her Wit, then with the best piece of flesh in Christendom, I could beget young Mercuries on her, with The very conceit: would you had had a good pair Of eyes in your head. They are false glasses, and will Deceive me. My Lords to arms, the foe discovered, Marching amain upon you. We are in readiness, our Counsels broke, Advice must be all blows, Lady to your hold, And at advantage, see what these youths will do; To gain your love, nobly for Spain speak drum, And if they call, answer for us, they come. Descend thy sphere, thou burning deity, Haste from our shame, go blushing to thy bed, Thy sons we are, thou everlasting Yet never shamed these our impressive brows Till now; we that are stamped with thine own seal, Which the whole ocean cannot wash away: Shall those cold ague cheeks that nature moulds Within her winter shop, those smooth white skins, That with a palsy hand she paints the limbs, Make us recoil. Great Mullymumen haste, Either give heart to our retiring troop By a fresh onset, or haste to safety by Flight and baseness: Bennizverian 's slain, Where's our brother Mahu Mahomet?
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)
Good spirit yffaith; Even such a souldier have I left behinde, I had much adoe to keepe her from the field, Poore Iacia, had I knowne such a sworne sister for her I shoud almost have given her leave. I'le tell you Sir, Were there a band of buskind Amazons That would tucke up their skirts, and strike indeed My girle shoud weare bright Menalipps belt She shoud be formost; and I'le venture her. Is she such a striker, my Lord? All at head, No where else, beleeve me Sir, we hold it base. To strike below the wast. You fight high Lady. So she does at heart I thinke, So, so, to her batchelloure, Antonio, Lzarelle, Mdi, Come Alz, You and I must more seriously upon our war intendmunts. The generall wrongs you to call you batchellour, Antonio. Woud he did not wrong me. Have not you a Cordke A heart fever now, Do you thinke there is A Phenix now, is there but one good face In the world? I see nothing in her face, Prethee attempt to make her speake agen. Her tongue? nay if you like her tongue, you must needs Like her tayle, for the one utter the other Lady What would you give now for Moores heads by the dozen? I would buy by the score Sir. And what a score then? Chalke best for the score, every alewife knows that. You talke of chalke, and I ocheefe. Hees in the last dish, pray take him away here. I have not done yet, will you buy any ware of me? What? proffer'd wareoh. Give o're, thou wilt be foyl'd else. Why, heres a wench now, I had rather Ile with her Witt, then with the best piece of flesh in Christendome, I could beget young Mercuries on her, with The very conceit: would you had had a good paire Of eyes in your head. They are false glasses, and will Deceive me. My Lords to armes, the foe discover'd, Marching amaine upon you. We are in readinesse, our Councels broke, Advice must be all blows, Ladie to your hold, And at advantage, see what these youths will do; To gaine your love, nobly for Spaine speake dru, And if they call, answer for us, they come. Descend thy spheare, thou burning Diety, Haste from our shame, go blushing to thy bed, Thy sonnes we are, thou ouerlasting bll, Yet never shamde these our impressive brows Till now; we that are stampt with thine owne seale, Which the whole ocean cannot wash away Shall those cold gue cheeks that nature moulds Within her winter shop, those smoothe white kins, That with a plsey hand she paint the libes, Make us recoyle. Great Mully haste, Either give heart to our retyring troupe By a fresh onset, or haste to saftie by Flight and basenesse: B slaine, Where's our brother Mahu Mahomet?