Selected quad for the lemma: body_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
body_n	believe_v	young_a	youth_n	21	3	7.7495	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A20062	The honest whore with, the humours of the patient man, and the longing vvife. Tho: Dekker.	Dekker, Thomas, ca. 1572-1632.; Middleton, Thomas, d. 1627.	1604 (1604)	STC 6501; ESTC S105233	51,585	88

THE Honest Whore With The Humours of the Patient Man and the Longing Wife Tho: Dekker LONDON 〈…〉 The Honest Whore ACTVS PRIMVS SCAENA PRIMA Enter at one doore a Funerall a Coronet lying on the Hearse Scutchins and Garlands hanging on the sides attended by Gasparo Trebatzi Duke of Millan Castruchio Sinezi Pioratto Fluello and others at an other doore Enter Hipolito in discontented apparance Matheo a Gentleman his friend labouring to hold him backe Duke BEhold yon Commet shewes his head againe Twice hath he thus at crosse-turnes throwne on vs Prodigious lookes Twice hath he troubled The waters of our eyes See hee 's turnde wilde Go on in Gods name All On afore there ho Duke Kinsmen and friends take from your manly sides Your weapons to keepe backe the desprate boy From doing violence to the innocent dead Hipolito I pry thee deere Matheo Matheo Come y' are mad Hip: I do arest thee murderer set downe Villaines set downe that sorrow t is all mine Duke I do beseech you all for my bloods sake Send hence your milder spirits and let wrath Ioine in confederacie with your weapons points If he proceeds to vexe vs let your swordes Seeke out his bowells funerall griefe loathes words All Set on Hip. Set downe the body Mat: O my Lord Y' are wrong i' th open streete you see shee s dead Hip: I know shee is not dead Duke Franticke yong man Wilt thou beleeve these gentlemen pray speake Thou doost abuse my childe and mockst the teares That heere are shed for her If to behold Those roses withered that set out her cheekes That paire of starres that gave her body light Darkned and dim for ever All those rivers That fed her veines with warme and crimson streames Frozen and dried vp If these be signes of death Then is she dead Thou vnreligious youth Art not ashamde to emptie all these eyes Of funerall teares a debt due to the dead As mirth is to the living Sham'st thou not To have them stare on thee harke thou art curst Even to thy face by those that scarce can speake Hip. My Lord Duke What wouldst thou have is she not dead Hip. Oh you ha killd her by your crueltie Duke Admit I had thou killst her now againe And art more savage then a barbarous Moore Hip. Let me but kisse her pale and bloodlesse lip Duke O fie fie fie Hip. Or if not touch her let me looke on her Math. As you regard your honour Hip. Honour smoake Math. Or if you lov'de hir living spare her now Duke I well done sir you play the gentleman Steale hence t is nobly done away I le ioyne My force to yours to stop this violent torment Passe on Exeunt with funerall Hip. Matheo thou doost wound me more Math. I give you phisicke noble friend not wounds Duke Oh well said well done a true gentleman Alacke I know the sea of lovers rage Comes rushing with so strong a tide it beates And beares downe all respects of life of honour Of friends of foes forget her gallant youth Hip. Forget her Duke Na na be but patient For why deaths hand hath sued a strict divorse Twixt her and thee what 's beautie but a coarse What but faire sand-dust are earths purest formes Queenes bodies are but trunckes to put in wormes Mathew Speake no more sentences my good lord but slip hence you see they are but fits I le rule him I warrant ye I so treade gingerly your Grace is heere somewhat too long already Sbloud the jeast were now if having tane some knockes o' th pate already he should get loose againe and like a madde Oxe tosse my new blacke cloakes into the kennell I must humour his lordship my lord Hipolito is it in your stomacke to goe to dinner Hipolito Where is the body Matheo The body as the Duke spake very wisely is gone to be wormd Hipolito I cannot rest I le meete it at next turne I le see how my love lookes Mathaeo holds him in s armes Mathaeo How your love lookes worse than a scarre-crowe wrastle not with me the great felow gives the fall for a duckat Hipolito I shall forget my selfe Mathaeo Pray do so leave your selfe behinde your selfe and go whither you will Sfoote doe you long to have base roags that maintaine a saint Anthonies fire in their noses by nothing but two peny Ale make ballads of you if the Duke had but so much mettle in him as is in a coblers awle he would ha beene a vext thing he and his traine had blowne you vp but that their powlder haz taken the wet of cowards you le bleed three pottles of Aligant by this light if you follow em and then wee shall have a hole made in a wrong place to have Surgeons roll thee vp like a babie in swadling clowts Hipolito What day is to day Mathaeo Mathaeo Yea mary this is an easie question why to day is let me see thurseday Hipolito Oh thurseday Mathaeo Heere 's a coile for a dead commoditie sfoote women when they are alive are but dead commodities for you shall have one woman lie vpon many mens hands Hipolito Shee died on monday then Mathaeo And that 's the most villainous day of all the weeke to die in and she was wel and eate a messe of water-grewel on monday morning Hipolito I it cannot be Such a bright taper should burne out so soone Mathaeo O yes my Lord so soone why I ha knowne them that at dinner have bin aswell and had so much health that they were glad to pledge it yet before three a clocke have bin found dead drunke Hipolito On thurseday buried and on monday died Quicke haste birlady sure her winding sheete Was laide out fore her bodie and the wormes That now must feast with her were even bespoke And solemnely invited like strange guests Mathaeo Strange feeders they are indeede my lord and like your jeaster or yong Courtier will enter vpon any mans trencher without bidding Hipolito Curst be that day for ever that robd her Of breath and me of blisse hencefoorth let it stand Within the Wizardes booke the kalendar Markt with a marginall finger to be chosen By theeves by villaines and blacke murderers As the best day for them to labour in If hencefoorth this adulterous bawdy world Be got with childe with treason sacrilege Atheisme rapes treacherous friendship periurie Slaunder the beggars sinne lies sinne of fooles Or anie other damnd impieties On Monday let em be delivered I sweare to thee Mathaeo by my soule Heereafter weekely on that day I le glew Mine eie-lids downe because they shall not gaze On any female cheeke And being lockt vp In my close chamber there I le meditate On nothing but my Infaelices end Or on a dead mans scull drawe out mine owne Mathaeo You le doe all these good workes now every monday because it is so bad but I hope vppon tuesday morning I shall take you with a wench Hipolito If ever whilst fraile