Jack Drum's Entertainment (Katherine and Pasquil) · chunk 19 of 32
Marston, John · published 1601 · first performed or written 1600 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.73 · 479 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
What soul is that, that with her tearful eyes Seems to lament with me in miseries? Here seems to be the pressure of his trunk, Dear earth confirm my doubt, was this the place Which the fair body of my Pasquil priest, When he lay murdered? See the drooping grass Hangs down his mourning head, and seems to say This was the fatal place, where Pasquil lay. Oh thou sweet print, stamped by the fairest limbs, The richest Coffin of the purest soul That ever priest the bosom of the earth, First drink my tears, and next suck up my blood. Now thou immortal spirit of my Love, Thou precious soul of Pasquil view this knife Which once thou gavest me, and prepare thy arm To clip the spirit of thy constant Love. Dear Ned I come, by death I will be thine, Since life denies it to poor Katherine. Hold, hold, thou miracle of constancy, First let heaven perish, and the crazed world run Into first Chaos of confusion, Before such cruel violence be done To her fair breast, whose fame by virtue won, Shall honour women whilst there shines a sun. Thrice sacred spirit, why dost thou forsake Elysium pleasures, to withhold the arm Of wretched Katherine? Oh let me die, Retire sweet Ghost, do not pollute thy hand With touch of mortals. Amazement of thy Sex, Pasquill doth live, And lives to love thee in eternity. Be not aghast, recover spirit, (Sweet) 'tis Pasquill speaks, 'tis Pasquill clips thy waste, 'tis Pasquill prints a kiss on thy fair hand. What do I dream? or have I drawn the sluice Of life up? and through streams of blood Unfelt, have set my prisoned soul at large? Am I in heaven? or in Pasquil's Arms? I am in heaven, for my Ned's embrace Is Katherine's long wished celestial place. Divinity of sweetness, I protest, If these inferior Orbs were rolled up, And the imperial heaven barred to my view, 'twere not so gracious, nor so much desired, As my dear Katherine is to Pasquil's sight. Heaven of Content, Paphos of my delight. Mirror of Constancy, lifeblood of love. Center to whom all my affections move. Renown of Virgins, whose fame shall ne'er fleet. Oh I am mazed with joy, I pray thee sweet, Unfold to me, what sad mischance it was, Forced thy death's rumour, and such woes dispersed? Sad sorrow passed, delights to be rehearsed. It will be tedious, but in brief think thus, Old Mammon's malice was the venomed foam, That poisoned all the sweets of our content. Alas dear heart, that love should be so crossed. Now good Ned fetch my gown, 'tis at yond house, I would be loath to turn to Highgate thus. I am obliged with infinite respect, to do you service. Oh power divine, was ever such a love as Katherine?
nodes 849–909 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 19 of 32 in this edition
Length
479 words · 649 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.729 (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)
What soule is that, that with her teare-full eies Seemes to lament with me in miseries? Here seemes to be the pressure of his truncke, Deare earth confirme my doubt, was this the place Which the faire bodie of my Pasquil prest, When he laie murdred? See the drooping grasse Hangs downe his mourning head, and seemes to say This was the fatall place, where Pasquil lay. Oh thou sweet print, stampt by the fairest limbes, The richest Coffin of the purest soule That euer prest the bosome of the earth, First drinke my teares, and next sucke vp my blood. Now thou immortall spirit of my Loue, Thou pretious soule of Pasquil view this knife Which once thou gauest me, and prepare thy arme To clip the spirit of thy constant Loue. Deare Ned I come, by death I will be thine, Since life denies it to poore Katherine. Hold, hold, thou miracle of constancie, First let heauen perish, and the crazde world runne Into first Chaos of confusion, Before such cruell violence be done To her faire breast, whose fame by vertue wonne, Shall honour women whilste there shines a sunne. Thrice sacred spirit, why dost thou forsake Elizeum pleasures, to withhold the arme Of wretched Katherine? Oh let me die, Retire sweete Ghoast, do not pollute thy hand With touch of mortalls. Amazement of thy Sex, Pasquill doth liue, And liues to loue thee in eternitie. Be not agast, recouer spirit, (Sweete) Tis Pasquill speakes, tis Pasquill clips thy waste, Tis Pasquill prints a kisse on thy faire hand. What do I dreame? or haue I drawne the sluce Of life vp? and through streames of bloud Vnfelt, haue set my prisoned soule at large? Am I in heauen? or in Pasquills Armes? I am in heauen, for my Neds embrace Is Katherines long wish'd celestiall place. Diuinitie of sweetnesse, I protest, If these inferiour Orbs were rowled vp, And the imperiall heauen bar'd to my view, Twere not so gracious, nor so much desir'd, As my deare Katherine is to Pasquills sight. Heauen of Content, Paphos of my delight. Mirrour of Constancie, life-bloud of loue. Center to whom all my affections moue. Renown of Virgins, whose fame shal ne're fleet. Oh I am maz'd with ioy, I pree thee sweete, Vnfold to me, what sad mischaunce it was, Forc'd thy deaths rumour, and such woes disperc'd? Sad sorrow past, delights to be rehearsed. It will be tedious, but in breefe thinke thus, Old Mamons malice was the venombd foame, That poisoned all the sweets of our content. Alas deare heart, that loue should be so crost. Now good Ned fetch my gowne, tis at yon house, I would be loth to turne to Hygate thus. I am oblig'de with infinit respect, to do you seruice. Oh power diuine, was euer such a loue as Katherine?