The Night Walker, or The Little Thief · chunk 15 of 39
Fletcher, John / Shirley, James · published 1640 · first performed or written c.1611(?) [revised by Shirley and re-licensed for stage, May 11, 1633] (Annals) comedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Among thy other sins which black thy soul, Call to thy mind thy vow made to another, Whom thou hast wronged, and make her satisfaction Now I am dead, thou perjured man, or else A thousand black tormentors shall pursue thee, Until thou leap into eternal flames; Where gold which thou adorest here on earth Melted, the Fiends shall pour into thy throat; For this time pass, go home, and think upon me, A way. There are more spirits. Thank you dear wife, I'll bestow twenty nobles of a Tomb for thee, Thou shalt not walk and catch cold after death. So, so, they're gone, 'twas my ingenious rascal: But how dost know he made vows to another? I overheard the women talk tonight on't; But now let's lose no time sir, pray let's bury This Gentlewoman, where's my Mistress? Here, I durst not tarry. We ha' so cozened the old forty i'th' hundred, And the devil hinder him not, he'll go a pilgrimage; But come, about our business, set her down again. Oh. she groans, ha. Oh. Again, she stirs. Let's fly, or else we shall be torn in pieces. And you be good at that, bury yourself, Or let the Sexton take ye for his fee, Away boy. I am very cold, dead cold; Where am I? What's this? a Coffin? where have I been? Mercy defend me: Ha, I do remember I was betrayed, and swooned; my heart aches, I am wondrous hungry too, dead bodies eat not; Sure I was meant for burial, I am frozen; Death, like a cake of Ice dwells round about me, Darkness spreads o'er the world too, where? what path, Best providence direct me. THou art the most unfortunate fellow; Why Aunt, what have I done? The most malicious varlet, Thy wicked head never at rest, but hammering, And hatching hellish things, and to no purpose, So thou mayst have thy base will. Why do you rail thus? Cannot a scurvy accident fall out, But I must be at one end on't? Thou art at both ends. Cannot young sullen wenches play the fools, And marry, and die, but I must be the agent? All that I did (and if that be an injury, Let the world judge it) was but to persuade her (And as I take it) I was bound to it too, To make the reverend coxcomb her husband Cuckold: What else could I advise her, was there harm in'is? You are of years, and have run through experience, Would you be content if you were young again, To have a continual cough grow to your pillow, A rottenness, that vaults are perfumes to Hang in your roof, and like a fog infect you; Anointed hams to keep his hinges turning Reek ever in your nose, and twenty nightcaps, With twenty several sweats. Some Jew, some Justice, A thousand heathen smells to say truth Madam, And would you mellow my young pretty Mistress In such a mis-ken? Sirrah, Where's the body of my Girl?
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)
Among thy other sinnes which blacke thy soule, Call to thy minde thy vow made to another, Whom thou hast wrong'd, and make her satisfaction Now I am dead, thou perjur'd man, or else A thousand blacke tormentors shall persue thee, Vntill thou leape into eternall flames; Where gold which thou adorest here on earth Melted, the Fiends shall powre into thy throate; For this time passe, goe home, and thinke upon me, A way. There are more spirits. Thanke you deare wife, Ile bestow twentie nobles of a Tombe for thee, Thou shalt not walke and catch cold after death. So, so, they'r gone, 'twas my ingenious rascall: But how dost know he made vowes to another? I over-heard the women talke to night on't; But now lets lose no time sir, pray lets bury This Gentlewoman, where's my Mistresse? Here, I durst not tarry. We ha so cosen'd the old forty i'th hundred, And the devill hinder him not, hee'le goe a pilgrimage; But come, about our businesse, set her downe agen. Oh. Shee groanes, ha. Oh. Agen, she stirres. Lets flye, or else we shall be torne in peeces. And you be good at that, bury your selfe, Or let the Sexton take ye for his fee, Away boy. I am very cold, dead cold; Where am I? What's this? a Coffin? where have I beene? Mercy defend me: Ha, I doe remember I was betrai'd, and swounded; my heart akes, I am wondrous hungry too, dead bodies eate not; Sure I was meant for buriall, I am frozen; Death, like a cake of Ice dwells round about me, Darkenesse spreads o're the world too, where? what path, Best providence direct me. THou art the most unfortunate fellow; Why Aunt, what have I done? The most malicious varlet, Thy wicked head never at rest, but hammering, And hatching hellish things, and to no purpose, So thou maist have thy base will. Why doe you raile thus? Cannot a scurvy accident fall out, But I must be at one end on't? Thou art at both ends. Cannot young sullen wenches play the sooles, And marry, and die, but I must be the agent? All that I did (and if that be an injury, Let the world judge it) was but to perswade her (And as I take it) I was bound to it too, To make the reverend coxecombe her husband Cuckold: What else could I advise her, was there harme i'this? You are of yeares, and have runne through experience, Would you be content if you were young agen, To have a continuall cough grow to your pillow, A rottennesse, that vaults are perfumes to Hang in your roofe, and like a fogge infect you; Anointed hammes to keepe his hinges turning Reeke ever in your nose, and twenty nightcaps, With twenty severall sweats. Some Jew, some Justice, A thousand heathen smells to say truth Madam, And would you mellow my young pretty Mistresse In such a mis-ken? Sirra, Where's the body of my Girle?