How a Man May Choose a Good Wife from a Bad · chunk 30 of 43
Anonymous · published 1602 · first performed or written 1602 [c.1601-1602] (Annals) comedy · Worcester's Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.72 · 530 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
What frantic humour doth thus haunt my sense, Striving to breed destruction in my spirit? When I would sleep, the ghost of my sweet love, Appears unto me in an angel's shape, When I am wake, my fantasy presents As in a glass, the shadow of my love: When I would speak, her name intrudes itself Into the perfect echoes of my speech. And though my thought beget some other word, Yet will my tongue speak nothing but her name: If I do meditate it is on her, If dream on her, or if discourse on her, I think her ghost doth haunt me, as in times Of former darkness old wives tales report, Here comes my bitter Genius, whose advice Directs me still in all my actions. How now, from whence come you? Faith from the street, in which as I passed by, I met the modest Mistress Arthur's Course: And after her as mourners, first her husband, Next justice Reason, then old M. Arthur, Old M. Lusam, and young Lusam too, With many other kinsfolks, neighbours, friends, And others that lament her Funeral, Her body is by this laid in the vault. And in that vault my body I will lay, I prithee leave me, thither is my way. I am sure you jest, you mean not as you say. No, no, I'll but go to the Church and pray. Nay then we shall be troubled with your humour. As ever thou didst love me, or as ever Thou didst delight in my society, By all the rights of friendship, and of love, Let me entreat thy absence but one hour, And at the hours end I will come to thee. Nay if you will be foolish, and past reason, I'll wash my hands like Pilate, from thy folly, And suffer thee in these extremities. Now it is night, & the bright lamps of heaven Are half burnt out, now bright Adelbora Welcomes the cheerful Daystar to the Fast, And harmless stillness hath possessed the world. This is the Church, this hollow is the Vault, Where the dead body of my Saint remains, And this the Coffin that enshrines her body, For her bright soul is now in paradise. My coming is with no intent of sin, Or to defile the body of the dead, But rather take my last farewell of her, Or languishing and dying by her side. My airy soul post after hers to heaven, First with this latest kiss I seal my love. Her lips are warm, and I am much deceived If that she stir not: & this Golgotha, This place of dead men's bones is terrible, Presenting fearful apparitions. It is some spirit that in the Coffin lies, And makes my hair start up an end with fear, Come to thyself faint heart, she sits upright, O I would hide me, but I know not where; Tush if it be a spirit, 'tis a good spirit, For with her body living, ill she knew not, And with her body dead, ill cannot meddle. Who am I? or where am I? O she speaks, and by her language now I know she lives.
nodes 1686–1750 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 30 of 43 in this edition
Length
530 words · 673 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.720 (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 frantike humor doth thus haunt my sence, Striuing to breed destruction in my spirit? When I would sleepe, the ghost of my sweete loue, Appeares vnto me in an Angels shape, When I am wake, my phantasie presents As in a glasse, the shadow of my loue: When I would speake, her name intrudes it selfe Into the perfect ecchoes of my speech. And though my thought beget some other word, Yet will my tongue speake nothing but her name: If I do meditate it is on her, If dreame on her, or if discourse on her, I thinke her ghost doth haunt me, as in times Of former darknesse old wiues tales report, Here comes my bitter Genius, whose aduice Directs me still in all my actions. How now, from whence come you? Faith from the street, in which as I past by, I met the modest Mistris Arthurs Course: And after her as mourners, first her husband, Next Iustice Reason, then old M. Arthur, Old M. Lusam, and young Lusam too, With many other kinsfolks, neighbours, friends, And others that lament her Funerall, Her bodie is by this laid in the vault. And in that vault my bodie I will lay, I prithee leaue me, thither is my way. I am sure you ieast, you meane not as you say. No, no, Ile but go to the Church and pray. Nay then we shall be troubled with your humor. As euer thou didst loue me, or as euer Thou didst delight in my societie, By all the rights of friendship, and of loue, Let me intreat thy absence but one houre, And at the houres end I will come to thee. Nay if you wil be foolish, and past reason, Ile wash my hands like Pilate, from thy follie, And suffer thee in these extremities. Now it is night, & the bright lamps of heauen Are halfe burnt out, now bright Adelbora Welcomes the cheerefull Day-star to the Fast, And harmlesse stilnesse hath possest the world. This is the Church, this hollow is the Vault, Where the dead bodie of my Saint remaines, And this the Coffin that inshrines her bodie, For her bright soule is now in paradice. My comming is with no intent of sinne, Or to defile the bodie of the dead, But rather take my last farewell of her, Or languishing and dying by her side. My ayrie soule post after hers to heauen, First with this latest kisse I seale my loue. Her lips are warme, and I am much deceiu'd If that she stirre not: & this Golgotha, This place of dead mens bones is terrible, Presenting fearfull apparitions. It is some spirit that in the Coffin lies, And makes my haire start vp an end with feare, Come to thy selfe faint heart, she sits vpright, O I would hide me, but I know not where; Tush if it be a spirit, tis a good spirit, For with her bodie liuing, ill she knew not, And with her bodie dead, ill cannot meddle. Who am I? or where am I? O she speakes, and by her language now I know she liues.