Passages from this character's speech that contain the most distinguishing words for Cluster 23 (rogues, crochet, shakbag, kicked, doister, tidle…). Matches are highlighted.
I'll meet. A little liking my Lord, a jerk a trick or so, but no pure love I protest, but be impartial, cast of the furd-gowne of hate, and fpeake out of the naked Doublet and hose of judgement: is she not worthy to be beloved? nay, might not she and I live passing well together? Well my Lord, because isle be no example of self-will,
Full speech
Tobacco? the best in Europe, it cost me ten Crowns and ounce by this vapor. Of your foppish humour? yes by this Element villanou lie ashamed, poxon't, leave it, you are a scholar, go but to antiquity, read the Chronicles, you may find some of your Ancestors chronicled for winning a Wenches favour for losing their ar mour, but few for wit and Scholarship: Soldiers & Scholars could never set their horses together, especi Alley in this kicking age: but who comes here? one she-Satyre or other to pitch up her Tent, cast down her gauntlet and proclaim thee coward for not stabbing her, when she gave thee the most plain apparent and open lie. Your reason Sir? Pardon me sir, I did not see your charge. Would I had never seen her, for her eye Hath set my thoughts in a strange mutiny. No Prince, love's in me, I Like a slave endure loves tyranny. God save fair sweet. You had said for such, had your tongue gone true. I would you did, within my Curtains. Nay, love is willing, for he cries lets go: What, and our lips not meet? Please you accept the curtsy of the town? Here are none such. My loves are found, & wait but your reply, A short lined accent, either no or I. Appoint the place sweet, isle not miss mine houte. I'll meet. A little liking my Lord, a jerk a trick or so, but no pure love I protest, but be impartial, cast of the furd-gowne of hate, and fpeake out of the naked Doublet and hose of judgement: is she not worthy to be beloved? nay, might not she and I live passing well together? Well my Lord, because isle be no example of self-will, isle break off our meeting at the three Fools, and send for her to Court, where isle put all my love into one quart of Maligo, & your melancholy humour into another, and he that hath done last, shall for penance give her a kick a the lips, and a pipe of Tobacco be my witness, that's all the love I bear her. You mean a lie, for women use to lie. Gods me, the Countess. Not in brass Characters? Fore-god 'tis true, and mark where the Cuc koldly knave Vulcan stands sneaking behind the brake bush to watch a m. Not for a hundred. 'Tis done, where will you take your stand? Mass I herd something groan. Heart a the Devil, your Uncle. The hanging of his neither lip. Long fingers Like a Lady. You may soon know that my Lord. If it be his, a hath the Gout in his left foot, A block. Why hast thou a private hem? I hate the base and rascal multitude, I cannot nod, ride barehead through the streets, Nor wreathe my body Like a Cable Hatband To every Pedlar and mechanic Townsman, I hate the poor, am envious at the rich, Love none. Then good. I hau't my Lord, I haue't i'faith. Weel keep no Pages. Weel use no great Horses. Fore-god I hau't, peculiar I haue't. Your honour shall keep no wenches at all. So please your excellence. Renowned Prince, Prince Polymetes, zounds Prince. 'Sblood he's safe returned. You help my memory, thence she was stolen, And for her beauty, chosen Concubine To the lascivious Turk, but by much suit, And meditation of some special friends, I bought her freedom with a thousand marks Nine. I'the neck. Any thing. Cocks of one hen, come prince, lets hold toga there. Make your Highness merry, when I herd You were returned without your wished Adventure. At non plus. Yet they may produce lying authority, and so cannot Poets, I'faith Madam, he hath fit on the skirts of law any time this thirty years. What a smooth hand a hath? I wonder the Bells rung not all in his belly. Adam what have you ready. The news is not so happy. And I could make a notable Courtier, methinks I am begging already. Not loved, your reason? Zounds where the slave that brought the falsere port of his death? Of the English post why look you my Lord, the post coming in poast-hast to show his duty to the Prince, stumbled at a post that lay in his way and broke his sinister shanck, and so I break of my discourse and bid your honour welcome home. Health to my Sovereign. Faith my Lord I have done a child's partly, and almost spent a child's partly, to draw him to society, but 'tis labour lost. The English post my Lord? your grace is merry. Alas my Lord, the boy is lunatic. I to ll you my Lord, coming a bruptly as your honour oh any else may do to the Princes cham ber, about some ordinary service, a found him in his study, and a company of botlno ed Devils dancing the Irish hay about him, which on the sudden so startled the poor boy, as a clean lost his wits, and ever since talks thus idle, as your Excellence hath herd him As familiarly as you and I, they are his only company keepers, when a hath be dulled at his study, I have known a Devil and he play at Ticktack for phillips, by the whole day together. At yonr honours spleasure, See where a sits, be Patient and observe. Why so, this jest came smoothly of and was not soiled in the working And I did simple Knights servire in persuading the Duke the boy was lunatic. No by my troth, yet I must needs say, some as bade have been, for how soever our practice pass currant with your father for the present, our villanyes must needs break forth, they are so notorious and public. A mourner boy? what solemn funeral, Hath hung that sable livery on thy back? The ground then comes? Where are are we now? how strange were we born Upon the pinions of the fleeting air, And where dismounted? unto what great Prince Christian or Pagan longs this mansion. Welcome? To whom? If his tongue falter, all our plots bewrayed. Sixteen. So sir, (sfoot not done yet?) and had not Cham ring-crosse a tall bow legd Gent: taken up the matter, 'tis thought Westminster stones would have been too hight for some of them: and in parting the fray, Cham ring-crosse God such a box o'the ear, that he will carry it to his deathsday, some say a God a wry neck by parting the fray, marry Winchester says flatly, a God a creeck in his neck, with looking westward for Termers. Heart not a ot, the Duke your father. Woodcock of our side: And very fair hangings.
Plot summary
Plot — Law Tricks
Prince Polymetes arrives home with news that his sister Emilia has disappeared after an attack by the Turks on her temple; grieving at the news, Duke Ferneze goes to seek her, leaving Polymetes as his deputy. Meanwhile Emilia has escaped from the galleys by feigning lunacy, and now arrives in Genoa. She adopts an alias in order to test her brother, whom she has never met. His interest in her is not very brotherly: he loses his bookish tendencies and grows prodigal, spending public money on her. He arranges for her to lodge with his uncle, Count Lurdo, in order to facilitate access. Lurdo, who has just divorced his wife, the Countess, for alleged unchastity, tries to seduce Emilia with a view to getting his hands on the money Polymetes is spending on her. Meanwhile, Horatio fails in his efforts to seduce Lurdo’s ex-wife, the Countess, and takes her steadfastness in chastity badly. ===== PAGE 127 ===== 1604 He and Lurdo plot to get rid of her by poison, administered by Horatio. Ferneze returns in disguise with news of his own _death, and Polymetes makes plans to squander his inheritance. Then Ferneze returns in his own person, and Polymetes has to reassume his original studious persona. The Countess is buried, and the penitent Horatio visits her tomb; his page, who swapped the poison for a sleeping potion, is also there to take charge of her when she wakes, and scares Horatio by pretending to be her ghost. Polymetes pretends that his dissolute behaviour was just an act to test Lurdo, and tries to win his father’s favour by using magic to bring back Emilia; in fact it is a ruse with the cross-dressed Joculo, which. deceives Ferneze until the real Emilia exposes it by close questioning. Polymetes then conjures up the supposed ghost of the Countess, who accuses Horatio of her murder. The plot comes out and Horatio and Lurdo are sentenced to be buried alive, until it becomes clear that the Countess is alive and wants her husband back. Horatio is banished from the court and Joculo praised for turning tragedy into comedy.