Whetstone, George · published 1578 · first performed or written 1578 [1576-1579] (Annals) comedy · Unacted unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Assure thyself, most faithful friend, I willbe known to none: To none alas, I see my escape yields me but small relief, Cassandra, and Polina will destroy themselves, with grief: Through thought that I am dead: they dead, to live what helpeth me? Leave of these plaints of small avail, thank God that you are free, For God it was, within my mind, that did your safety move, And that same God, no doubt will work for your and their behove: Most faithful friend, I hope that God, will work as you do say, And therefore, to some place unknown, I will myself convey. Gayler, far well: for thy good deed, I must remain thy debtor, In mean while yet receive this gift, till fortune sends a better: Good bye sir, but keep your money, your need you do not know. I pass not now for fortunes threats, yea though her force she show And therefore stick not to receive this small reward in part. I will not sure, such proffers leave, 'tis time you do departed. Since so thou wilt, I willbe gone adieu till fortune smile. Sir, far you well, I will not fail to pray for you the while. Well. I am glad, that I have sent him gone, For by my faith, I lived in perilous fear: And yet God wots, to see his bitter moan, When he should die, would force a man forbear, From harming him, if pity might bear sway: But see how God hath wrought for his safety? A dead man's head, that suffered th'other day, Makes him thou'ht dead, through out the city. Such a just, good and righted is God is he: Although awhile he let the wicked reign, Yet he relieves the wretch in misery, And in his pride, he throws the tyrant down. I use these words, upon this only thought, That Promos long his rod can not escape: Who hath in thought, a wilful murder wrought, Who hath in act performed a wicked rape, Gods will be done, who well Andrugio speed, Once well I hope, to hear of his good luck, For God thou knowest my conscience did this deed, And no desire of any worldly muck, In good sweet sooth, I fear I shallbe shent, It is so long: since I to market went, But trust me, wyldfowle are such costly gear, Specially, woodcoks, out of reason dear, That this hour, I have the market bet, To drive a bargain to my most profit: And in the end I chanced to light on one, Hyt me as pat as a pudding Pope Ione, Other market maids▪ pay down for their meat, But that I have bought, on my score is set. Well far credit when money runneth low, Mary yet, Butchers, the which do credit so. (As much Good meat, as they kill) may perchance, Be glad and fain at hearing cobs to dance. What force I that? every man shift for one, For if I starve, let none my fortune moan,
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)
Aſſure thy ſelfe, moſt faithful friend, I wylbe knowne to none: To none alas, I ſée my ſcape yéeldes mee but ſmall reléefe, Caſſandra, and Polina wyll deſtroye themſelues, with greefe: Through thought yt I am dead: they dead, to liue what helpeth me? Leaue of theſe plaints of ſmal auaile, thank God yt you are free, For God it was, within my mind, that did your ſafety moue, And that ſame God, no doubt wyl worke for your and their behoue: Moſt faithful friend, I hope that God, wyl worke as you do ſay, And therfore, to ſome place vnknowne, I wyl my ſelfe conuaye. Gayler, fare wel: for thy good deede, I muſt remayne thy debter, In meane whyle yet receyue this gyft, tyll fortune ſends a better: God bwy ſyr, but kepe your mony, your need you do not know. I pas not now for fortuns threats, yea though hir force ſhe ſhow And therefore ſtyck not to receyue this ſmale reward in part. I wyll not ſure, ſuch proffers leaue, tys time you doe depart. Since ſo thou wilt, I wylbe gone adue tyl fortune ſmile. Syr, fare you wel, I wyl not fayle to pray for you the while. Well. I am glad, that I haue ſent him gone, For by my fayth, I lyu'd in perlous feare: And yet God wot, to ſee his bytter mone, When he ſhould dye, would force a man forbeare, From harming him, if pitty might beare ſway: But ſee how God hath wrought for his ſafety? A dead mans head, that ſuffered th'other day, Makes him thou'ht dead, through out the citie. Such a iuſt, good and righted is God is he: Although awhyle he let the wicked raygne, Yet he releeues the wretch in miſery, And in his pryde, he throwes the tyraunt downe. I vſe theſe wordes, vpon this onely thought, That Promos long his rod can not eſcape: Who hath in thought, a wylfull murder wrought, Who hath in act performd a wicked rape, Gods wyll be done, who well Andrugio ſpeede, Once well I hope, to heare of his good lucke, For God thou knoweſt my conſcience dyd this déede, And no deſire of any worldly muck, In good ſweete ſooth, I feare I ſhalbe ſhent, It is ſo long: ſince I to market went, But truſt me, wyldfowle are ſuch coſtly geare, Specially, woodcoks, out of reaſon deare, That this houre, I haue the market bett, To driue a bargayne to my moſt profyt: And in the end I chaunſt to light on one, Hyt me as pat as a pudding Pope Ione, Other market maydes▪ pay downe for their meate, But that I haue bought, on my ſcore is ſet. Well fare credit when mony runneth low, Marry yet, Butchers, the which do credit ſo. (As much Good meate, as they kyll) may perchaunce, Be glad and fayne at heryng cobs to daunce. What force I that? euery man ſhyft for one, For if I ſtarue, let none my fortune mone,