Anonymous / Kyd, Thomas / Shakespeare, William / Watson, Thomas · published 1592 · first performed or written 1591 [1588-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Pembroke's Men (?) unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
But Mosbie I'll have no such picture I: I pray thee leave it to my discretion. Now, clerk O you are an honest man of your word, you served me well, Why sir i'll do it for you at any time, Provided as you have given your word, I may have Susan Mosbie to my wife: For as sharp witted Poets, whose sweet verse Make heavenly gods break of their nectar draughts, And lay their ears down to the lowly earth: Use humble promise to their sacred Muse, So we that are the poet's favourite, Must have a love, ay, Love is the painter's Muse. That makes him frame a speaking countenance. A weeping eye that witnesses hearts grief, Then tell me Master Mosbie shall I have her? 'tis pity but he should, he'll use her well. Clarke here's my hand my sister shall be thine, Then brother to requite this courtesy, You shall command my life my skill and all. Ah that thou couldst be secret, Fear him not, leave, I have talked sufficient, You know not me, that ask such questions: Let it suffice, I know you love him well, And fain would have your husband made away: Wherein trust me you show a noble mind, That rather than you'll live with him you hate, You'll venture life, and die with him you love, The like will I do for my Susan's sake. Yet nothing could enforce me to the deed, But Mosby's love, might I without control, Enjoy thee still, than Arden should not die: But seeing I cannot, therefore let him die. Enough sweet Alice, thy kind words makes me melt, Your trick of poisoned pictures we dislike, Some other poison would do better far. I such as might be put into his broth, And, yet in taste not to be found at all, I know your mind, and here I have it for you, Put but a dram of this into his drink, Or any kind of broth that he shall eat: And he shall die within an hour after. As I am a gentle woman clerk, next day Thou and Susan shall be married. And i'll make her dowry more than i'll talk of Clark, Yonder's your husband, Mosbie i'll be gone. In good time, see where my husband comes, Master Mosbie ask him the question yourself. Master Arden, being at London yesternight, The Abbey lands whereof you are now possessed, Were offered me on some occasion, By Green one of sir Antony Ager's men: I pray you sir tell me, are not the lands yours? Hath any other interest herein? Mosby that question we'll decide anon, Alice make ready my breakfast, I must hence. As for the lands mosbie they are mine, By letters patents from his Majesty: But I must have a mandate for my wife, They say you seek to rob me of her love, Villain what makes thou in her company, she's no companion for so base a groom.
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
But Mosbie Ile have no such picture I: I pray thoe leaue it to my discretion. Now, Clarke O you are an honest man of your word, you serud me wel, Why sir ile do it for you at any time, Prouided as you haue giuen your worde, I may haue Susan Mosbie to my wife: For as sharpe witted Poets, whose sweete verse Make heauenly gods break of their Nector draughts, And lay their eares down to the lowly earth: Use humble promise to their sacred Muse, So we that are the Poets fauorite, Must haue a loue, I, Loue is the Painters Muse. That makes him frame a speaking countenaunce. A weeping eye that witnesses hartes griefe, Then tell me Master Mosbie shall I haue hir? Tis pittie but he should, heele vse her well. Clarke héers my hand my sister shall be thine, Then brother to requite this curtesie, You shall command my lyfe my skill and all. Ah that thou couldst be secret, Feare him not, leaue, I have talkt sufficient, You know not me, that ask such questions: Let it suffice, I know you loue him well, And faine would haue your husband made away: Wherein trust me you shew a noble minde, That rather then youle liue with him you hate, Youle venture lyfe, and die with him you loue, The like will I do for my Susans sake. Yet nothing could inforce me to the deed, But Mosbies loue, might I without controll, Injoy thee still, then Arden should not die: But seeing I cannot, therefore let him die. Enough sweete Ales, thy kinde words makes me melt, Your tricke of poysoned pictures we dislyke, Some other poyson would do better farre. I such as might be put into his broth, And, yet in taste not to be found at all, I know your minde, and here I haue it for you, Put but a dram of this into his drinke, Or any kinde of broth that he shall eat: And he shall die within an houre after. As I am a gentle woman Clarke, next day Thou and Susan shall be maried. And ile mak her dowry more thē ile talk of Clark, Yonder's your husband, Mosbie ile be gone. In good time, sée where my husband comes, Maister Mosbie aske him the question your selfe. Maister Arden, being at London yester night, The Abby lands whereof you are now possest, Were offred me on some occasion, By Greene one of sir Antony Agers men: I pray you sir tell me, are not the lands yours? Hath any other inrest herein? Mosby at question wele decyde anon, Ales make ready my ekfast, I must hence. As for the lands mosbie they are mine, By letters patents from his Maiesty: But I must haue a Mandat for my wyfe, They say you seeke to robbe me of her loue, Villaine what makes thou in her company, Shées no companion for so base a groome.