Jack Drum's Entertainment (Katherine and Pasquil) · chunk 20 of 32
Marston, John · published 1601 · first performed or written 1600 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.81 · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Look Mammon, search Mammon, this way she went, Put on thy spectacles, this way she went: Blessed, blessed, blessed, be thy nativity, Yonder she sits, I'll either have her now, Or none shall e'er enjoy her with content. How loves impatient, when will Ned return? Tut, 'tis no matter when, look where thy Mammon is. Good devil, for God's sake do not vex my sight: Didst not thou plot the death of my dear Love? Yes, yes, and would complot ten thousand deaths, Even damn my soul, for beauteous Katherine. My ship shall comb the Ocean's curled back To furnish thee with brave habiliments, Rucks of rich Pearl, and sparkling Diamonds Shall fringe thy garments with embroidery: Thy head shall blaze as bright with Orient stone, As did the world being burnt by Phaeton. You make me death, for pities sake forbear: Oh when will Pasquil come? Good Sir depart. When wilt return? I pray you Sir go hence, And troth, I will not hate you: nay I'll speak Against my heart, and say I loathe you not. You vex my patience, gentle sir forbear, I beg it on my knee, and with a tear. Tut will you love me, and detest yond boy? Heaven detest me first, and loath my soul. Is it your final resolution? God knows it is. So good Sir rest content. ay, I will rest, and thou shalt rest thus blurred, Thus poisoned; venomed with this oil of Toads: If Mammon cannot get thee, none shall joy Which he could not enjoy. I fear no law, Gold in the firmest conscience makes a flaw. Rot like to Helen: Spittle hence, adieu, Let Pasquil boast in your next interview. Be pitiful and kill me gentle Sir. Heaven my heart is cracked with misery: Where shall I hide me? which way shall I cleanse The eating poison of this venomed oil? Poor wretch (alas) see where thy Pasquil comes. Here Love put on your gown. How now? good God, Heaven give me patience: who hath used thee thus? The devil in the shape of Mammon. Sweet Touch me not. Pasquil I conjure thee now By all the power of affection, By that strict bond of love that links our hearts, Leave and abandon me eternally. I merit now no love, yet prithee sweet, Vouchsafe to give me leave to love thee still. But I do bind thee by thy sacred vow Of our once happy, and thrice blessed love, Follow not Katherine: good Ned, do not grieve, In time just heaven may our woes relieve. O dira fata, saeva, miseranda, horida Quis hic Locus? quae Regio? quae Mundi plaga? ubi sum? Katherina, Katherina, Eheu Katherina. My Spectacles will betray me, look Mammon, search Mammon, hereabouts they fell. Welcome Erra Pater, you that make Prognostications for ever. Where's you Almanac? Lord bless my Obligations, Lord bless my bonds, Lord bless my Obligations. Alas, alas, alas.
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: T3 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Looke Mamon, search Mamon, this way shee went, Put on thy spectacles, this way she went: Blest, blest, blest, be thy natiuitie, Yonder she sits, Ile either haue her now, Or none shall e're enioy her with content. How loues impatient, when will Ned returne? Tut, tis no matter when, looke where thy Mamō is. Good diuel, for Gods sake do not vexe my sight: Didst not thou plot the death of my deare Loue? Yes, yes, and wold complot ten thousand deaths, Euen damne my soule, for beauteous Katherine. My ship shall kemb the Oceans curled backe To furnish thee with braue Abiliaments, Rucks of rich Pearle, and sparkling Diamonds Shall fringe thy garments with Imbroadry: Thy head shall blaze as bright with Orient stone, As did the world being burnt by Phaeton. You make me death, for pitties sake forbeare: Oh when will Pasquil come? Good Sir depart. When wilt returne? I pray you Sir goe hence, And troth, I will not hate you: nay I'le speake Against my heart, and say I loath you not. You vexe my patience, gentle sir forbeare, I begge it on my knee, and with a teare. Tut will you loue me, and detest yon boy? Heauen detest me first, and loathe my soule. Is it your finall resolution? God knowes it is. So good Sir rest content. I, I will rest, and thou shalt rest thus blur'd, Thus poysond; venomde with this oyle of Toades: If Mamon cannot get thee, none shall ioy Which he could not enioy. I feare no lawe, Gold in the firmest conscience makes a flawe. Rot like to Helen: Spittle hence, adiew, Let Pasquil boast in your next interview. Be pittifull and kill me gentle Sir. Heauen my heart is crackt with miserie: Where shall I hide me? which way shall I cleanse The eating poyson of this venomde oyle? Poore wretch (alas) see where thy Pasquil comes. Here Loue put on your gown. How now? good God, Heauē giue me patiēce: who hath vs'd thee thus? The diuel in the shape of Mamon. Sweet Touch me not. Pasquil I coniure thee now By all the power of affection, By that strickt bond of loue that lincks our hearts, Leaue and abandon me eternally. I merit now no loue, yet prethee sweet, Vouchsafe to giue me leaue to loue thee still. But I do binde thee by thy sacred vowe Of our once happie, and thrice blessed loue, Follow not Katherine: good Ned, doo not greeue, In time iust heauen may our woes releeue. O dira fata, saeua, miseranda, horida Quis hic Locus? quae Regio? quae Mundi plaga? Vbi sum? Katherina, Katherina, Eheu Katherina. My Spectacles will betraie mee, looke Mamon, search Mamon, here abouts they fell. Welcome Erra Pater, you that make Prognostications for euer. Where's you Almanacke? Lorde blesse my Obligations, Lorde blesse my bonds, Lord blesse my Obligations. Alas, alas, alas.