Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Too timeless death that killed two hearts in one! And now Lucilio, where ere thou liv'st, Here we may jointly finish both our labours, Since here lies buried all thy hopes and fears. Too virtuous maid Althaea! could the earth Yield thee no better place to enshrine thee in: Yet can its baseness never dim thy name, That shall be sung into posterity By a whole race of Virgins, and thy Fame Shall be a Tomb more durable to thee Then Brass or Marble. So farewell Althaea! I'll straight return this news to thy sad mother, That she may give with some solemnities Thy unhappy death its latest exequies. Slave to affliction, that must still pursue The shadows of my hopes, clasping the winds To feed the hunger of my discontent, And set aloft by greatness, stand exposed To every clap of Fortune's thundering, Still banished from the sight of sweet content That sits below me. Had my birth but been As free from height as from ambition: I might have slept under a silent roof, And eat securely of a Country Feast, Bound to no Ceremonious paths of State, Nor forced to torture mine affections, Or chain them till they starve to some deformed Remedy of love, and change our lives content For a bare title, that forsooth must come To edge a line of words, and make our names swell To fill th'ambitious thirst of greedy age— How easily could I forget myself By looking still upon thee, honest habit! And could I find her, whom the tyranny Of love hath made me seek, I would not tread So many weary steps back for a Dukedom. Now Master Constable, how like you this project? Do I not draw all things to the life? Excellent Boy! for a searching brain thou mightst have made a head-borough. What an ambidextrous shaver have I got to do the feat? Can he draw teeth I wonder? ay, who doubts it? 'tis the semi-sphere of his Profession: why do you ask? because I would have this hateful Stoics two rows of teeth drawn, for trespassing at my Table. You'll save nothing by that, for the want of teeth will make him come the oftener to your wife's White-broth, her Marrow, and Eringoes, who will likewise cram him up with Potatoes, Oysters, metamorphized Mushrooms, and such like self-swallowing provocatives, that will run down his throat as glibbie, as your pills of Butter, and make as much haste into his Belly, as they will make out again into hers. How thou dost charge my head with scruples! No; the way to destroy all fundamental reference between him and your wife hereafter, and to spoil him for ever giving fresh sap unto your horns, let his offensive member be now lopped off, before the Sun enters the Ram. And what then Boy?
nodes 1439–1484 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 34 of 47 in this edition
Length
476 words · 617 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.768 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Too timeleſſe death that kill'd two hearts in one! And now Lucilio, where ere thou liv'ſt, Here we may joyntly finiſh both our labours, Since here lies bury'd all thy hopes and feares. Too vertuous maid Althea! could the earth Yeeld thee no better place to enſhrine thee in: Yet can its baſeneſſe never dimme thy name, That ſhall be ſung into poſterity By a whole race of Virgins, and thy Fame Shall be a Tombe more durable to thee Then Braſſe or Marble. So farewell Althea! Ile ſtraight returne this newes to thy ſad mother, That ſhee may give with ſome ſolemnities Thy unhappy death its lateſt exequies. Slave to affliction, that muſt ſtill purſue The ſhadowes of my hopes, claſping the windes To feed the hunger of my diſcontent, And ſet aloft by greatneſſe, ſtand expos'd To every clap of Fortunes thundering, Still baniſh'd from the ſight of ſweet content That ſits below me. Had my birth but bin As free from height as from ambition: I might have ſlept under a ſilent roofe, And eate ſecurely of a Countrey Feaſt, Bound to no Ceremonious pathes of State, Nor forc'd to torture mine affections, Or chaine them till they ſterve to ſome deform'd Remedy of love, and change our lives content For a bare title, that forſooth muſt come To edge a line of words, and make our names ſwell To fill th'ambitious thirſt of greedy age— How eaſily could I forget my ſelfe By looking ſtill upon thee, honeſt habit! And could I finde her, whom the tyrannie Of love hath made mee ſeeke, I would not tread So many weary ſteps back for a Dukedome. Now Maſter Conſtable, how like you this project? Doe I not draw all things to the life? Excellent Boy! for a ſearching braine thou mightſt have made a Head-borrough. What an ambidextrous ſhaver have I got to doe the feate? Can he draw teeth I wonder? I, who doubts it? 'tis the ſemi-ſphere of his Profeſſion: why doe you aske? becauſe I would have this hatefull Stoiks two rowes of teeth drawne, for treſpaſſing at my Table. You'll ſave nothing by that, for the want of teeth will make him come the oftner to your wifes White-broth, her Marrow, and Eringoes, who will likewiſe cram him up with Potatoes, Oyſters, metamorphis'd Muſhromes, and ſuch like ſelf-ſwallowing provocatives, that will runne down his throate as glibbie, as your pils of Butter, and make as much haſte into his Belly, as they will make out againe into hers. How thou doeſt charge my head with ſcruples! No; the way to deſtroy all fundamentall reference betweene him and your wife hereafter, and to ſpoyle him for ever giving freſh ſappe unto your hornes, let his offenſive member be now lopt off, before the Sunne enters the Ramme. And what then Boy?