The Night Walker, or The Little Thief · chunk 18 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 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
'tis my fortune, You could not take me in a better time sir, I ha' nothing to lose, but the love I lent thee, My life my sword protect. I know 'em both, but to prevent their ruins, Must not discover—— stay men most desperate; The mischief you are forward to commit Will keep me from my grave, and tie my spirit To endless troubles else. Ha, 'tis her Ghost. Fr. Maria. Hear me both, each wound you make Runs through my soul, and is a new death to me, Each threatning danger will affright my rest; Look on me Hartlove, and my kinsman view me; Was I not late in my unhappy marriage, Sufficient miserable? full of all misfortunes? But you must add with your most impious angers Unto my sleeping dust this insolence? Would you teach time to speak eternally Of my disgraces; make Records to keep 'em, Keep them in brass? fight then, and kill my honour; Fight deadly both, and let your bloody swords, Through my revived, and reeking infamy (That never shall be purged) find your own ruins: Hartlove, I loved thee once, and hoped again In a more blessed love to meet thy spirit, If thou kill'st him, thou art a murderer, And murder shall never inherit heaven: My time is come, my concealed grave expects me, Farewell, and follow not, your feet are bloody, And will pollute my peace: I hope they are melted, This is my way sure. Stay blessed souls. Would she had come sooner, and ha' saved some blood. Dost bleed? Yes certainly, I can both see and feel it. Now I well hope it is not dangerous; Give me thy hand, as far as honour guides me, I'll know thee again. I thank thee heartily; I know not where to get a Surgeon; This vision troubles me, sure she is living, And I was foolish blind, I could not find it; I bleed apace still, and my heart grows heavy, If I go far I faint, I'll knock at this house, They may be charitable, would 'twere perfect day. 'tis not he? What would you sir? I would crave a little rest Lady, And for my hurts some Surgery, I am a Gentleman That Fortune of a fight— A handsome Gentleman, Alas he bleeds, a very handsome gentleman, A sweet young wench, beshrew my heart a fair one; Fortune has made me some recompense. Pray come in, the air is hurtful for you; Pray let me lead you, I'll have a bed for you presently, I'll be your Surgeon too, alas sweet gentleman. I feel no hurts, the morning comes too fast now. Softly I beseech you. He is not up yet Madam, what meant you To come forth so early? You block head; Your eyes are sowed up still, they cannot see When it is day: oh my poor Maria, Where be the women? They said they would follow us.
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)
Tis my fortune, You could not take me in a better time sir, I ha nothing to lose, but the love I lent thee, My life my sword protect. I know 'em both, but to prevent their ruines, Must not discover — — stay men most desperate; The mischiefe you are forward to commit Will keepe me from my grave, and tie my spirit To endlesse troubles else. Ha, tis her Ghost. Fr. Maria. Heare me both, each wound you make Runnes through my soule, and is a new death to me, Each threatning danger will affright my rest; Looke on me Hartlove, and my kinsman view me; Was I not late in my unhappy marriage, Sufficient miserable? full of all misfortunes? But you must adde with your most impious angers Unto my sleeping dust this insolence? Would you teach time to speake eternally Of my disgraces; make Records to keepe 'em, Keepe them in brasse? fight then, and kill my honor; Fight deadly both, and let your bloody swords, Through my reviv'd, and reeking infamy (That never shall be purg'd) finde your owne ruines: Hartlove, I lov'd thee once, and hop'd againe In a more blessed love to meet thy spirit, If thou kilst him, thou art a murtherer, And murther shall never inherit heaven: My time is come, my concealed grave expects me, Farewell, and follow not, your feete are bloody, And will pollute my peace: I hope they are melted, This is my way sure. Stay blessed souls. Would she had come sooner, and ha sav'd some blood. Dost bleed? Yes certainely, I can both see and feele it. Now I well hope it is not dangerous; Give me thy hand, as farre as honor guides me, Ile know thee againe. I thanke thee heartily; I know not where to get a Surgeon; This vision troubles me, sure she is living, And I was foolish blind, I could not finde it; I bleed apace still, and my heart growes heavy, If I goe farre I faint, Ile knocke at this house, They may be charitable, would 'twere perfect day. Tis not he? What would you sir? I would crave a little rest Lady, And for my hurts some Surgerie, I am a Gentleman That Fortune of a fight — A hansome Gentleman, Alas he bleedes, a very hansome gentleman, A sweet young wench, beshrow my heart a faire one; Fortune has made me some recompence. Pray come in, the aire is hurtfull for you; Pray let me lead you, Ile have a bed for you presently, Ile be your Surgeon too, alas sweet gentleman. I feele no hurts, the morning comes too fast now. Softly I beseech you. He is not up yet Madam, what mean't you To come forth so earely? You blocke head; Your eyes are sow'd up still, they cannot see When it is day: oh my poore Maria, Where be the women? They said they would follow us.