Marston, John · published 1602 · first performed or written 1602 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 474 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Ass, ass. I'll mount my courser, and most gallantly prick Gallantly prick is too long, and stands hardly in the verse, sir. I'll speak pure rhyme, and will so bravely prank it, that i'll toss love like a prank, prank it: a rhyme for prank it? Blankit. That i'll toss love, like a dog in a blanket: ha ha, in deed la. I think, ha ha; I think ha ha, I think I shall tickle the Muses. And I strike it not dead, say, Balurdo, thou art an arrant sot. Balurdo, thou art an arrant sot. Now, come united force of chap-fallen death: Come, power of fretting anguish, leave distress. O, thus enfolded, we have breasts of proof, 'gainst all the venomed stings of misery. Father, now I have an antidote, 'gainst all the poison that the world can breathe. My Mellida, my Mellida doth bless This bleak waste with her presence. How now boy, Why dost thou weep? alas, where's Mellida? Ay me, my Lord. A sodden horror doth invade my blood, My sinews tremble, and my panting heart Scuds round about my bosom so go out, Dreading the assailant, horrid passion. O, be no tyrant, kill me with one blow. Speak quickly, briefly boy. Her father found, and seized her, she is gone. Son, heat thy blood, be not froze up with grief. Courage, sweet boy, sink not beneath the weight Of crushing mischief. O where's thy dauntless heart Thy father's spirit! I renounce thy blood, If thou forsake thy valour. See how his grief speaks in his slow-paced steps: Alas, 'tis more than he can utter, let him go. Dumb solitary path best sureth woe. Give me my arms, my armour Lucio. Dear Lord, what means this rage, when lacking use Scarce saves your life, will you in armour rise? Fortune fears valour, presseth cowardice. Then valour gets applause, when it hath place, And means to blaze it. Nunquam potest non esse. Patience, my Lord, may bring your ills some end. What patience, friend, can ruined hopes attend? Come, let me die like old Andrugio: Worthy my birth. O blood-true-honoured graves Are far more blessed than base life of slaves. Exeunt. AND are you a painter sir, can you draw, can you draw? Yes sir. Indeed law? now so can my father's forehore horse. And are these the workmanship of your hands? I did limn them. limn them? a good word, limn them: whose picture is this? Anno Domini 1599. Believe me, master Anno Domini was of a good settled age when you limned him. 1599. years old? Let's see the other. Etatis svae 24. by'r Lady he is somewhat younger. Belike master Etatis svae was Anno Dominies son. Is not your master a He hath a little proclivity to him Proclivity, good youth? I thank you for your courtly proclivity.
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)
Asse, asse. Ile mount my courser, and most gallantly prick Gallantly prick is too long, and stands hardly in the verse, sir. Ile speake pure rime, and will so brauely pranke it, that ile tosse loue like a pranke, pranke it: a rime for pranke it? Blankit. That ile tosse loue, like a dogge in a blanket: ha ha, in deede law. I thinke, ha ha; I thinke ha ha, I think I shall tickle the Muses. And I strike it not deade, say, Balurdo, thou art an arrant sot. Balurdo, thou art an arrant sot. Now, come vnited force of chap-falne death: Come, power of fretting anguish, leaue distresse. O, thus infoulded, we haue breasts of proofe, Gainst all the venom'd stings of misery. Father, now I haue an antidote, Gainst all the poyson that the world can breath. My Mellida, my Mellida doth blesse This bleak waste with her presence. How now boy, Why dost thou weepe? alas, where's Mellida? Ay me, my Lord. A sodden horror doth inuade my blood, My sinewes tremble, and my panting heart Scuds round about my bosome so goe out, Dreading the assailant, horrid passion. O, be no tyrant, kill me with one blowe. Speake quickly, briefely boy. Her father found, and seis'd her, she is gone. Son, heat thy bloode, be not frose vp with grief. Courage, sweet boy, sinke not beneath the waight Of crushing mischiefe. O where's thy dantlesse heart Thy fathers spirit! I renounce thy blood, If thou forsake thy valour. See how his grief speakes in his flow-pac't steps: Alas, tis more than he can vtter, let him goe. Dumbe solitary path best sureth woe. Giue me my armes, my armour Lucio. Deare Lord, what means this rage, when lacking vse Scarce safes your life, will you in armour rise? Fortune feares valour, presseth cowardize. Then valour gets applause, when it hath place, And meanes to blaze it. Nunquam potest non esse. Patience, my Lord, may bring your ils some end. What patience, friend, can ruin'd hopes attēd? Come, let me die like old Andrugio: Worthy my birth. O blood-true-honour'd graues Are farre more blessed then base life of slaues. Exeunt. AND are you a painter sir, can you drawe, can you drawe? Yes sir. Indeede lawe? now so can my fathers forehore horse. And are these the workmanshippe of your hands? I did lymne them. Lymne them? a good word, lymne them: whose picture is this? Anno Domini 1599. Beleeue mee, master Anno Domini was of a good settled age when you lymn'd him. 1599. yeares old? Lets see the other. Etatis suae 24. Bir Ladie he is somwhat younger. Belike master Etatis suae was Anno Dominies sonne. Is not your master a He hath a little procliuitie to him Procliuitie, good youth? I thank you for your courtly procliuitie.