Satiromastix, or The Untrussing of the Humorous Poet · chunk 37 of 44
Dekker, Thomas · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men and Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 518 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Oh: That very name of poison, poisons me; Thou Winter of a man, thou walking grave, Whose life is like a dying Taper: how Canst thou define a lovers labouring thoughts? What Scent haste thou but death? what taste but earth? The breath that purls from thee, is like the Steam Of a new-opened vault: I know thy drift, Because thou art traveling to the land of Graves, Thou covetst company, and hither bringst, A health of poison to pledge death: a poison For this sweet spring; this element is mine, This is the Air I breathe; corrupt it not; This heaven is mine, I bought it with my soul, Of him that sells a heaven, to buy a soul. Well, let her go; she's thine thou call'st her thine, Thy Element, the Air thou breathest; thou know'st The Air thou breathest is common, make her so: Perhaps thou'lt say; none but the King shall wear Thy nightgown, she that laps thee warm with love; And that Kings are not common: Then to show, By consequence he cannot make her so, Indeed she may promote her shame and thine, And with your shames, speak a good word for mine: The King shining so clear, and we so dim, Our dark disgraces will be seen through him. Imagine her the cup of thy moist life, What man would pledge a King in his own wife? She dies: that sentence poisons her: O life! What slave would pledge a King in his own wife? Welcome, o poison physic against lust, Thou wholesome medicine to a constant blood; Thou rare Apothecary that canst keep, My chastity preserved, within this box; Of tempting dust, this painted earthen pot, That stands upon the stall of the white soul, To set the shop out like a flatterer, To draw the customers of Sin: come, come, Thou art no poison, but a diet-drink, To moderate my blood: White-innocent Wine, Art thou made guilty of my death? oh no, For thou thyself art poisoned, take me hence, For Innocence, shall murder Innocence. Hold, hold, thou shalt not die, my Bride, my wife, O stop that speedy messenger of death; O let him not run down that narrow path, Which leads unto thy heart; nor carry news To thy removing soul, that thou must die. 'tis done already, the Spiritual Court, Is breaking up; all Offices discharged, My soul removes from this weak standing house, Of frail mortality: Dear Father, bless Me now and ever: Dearer Man farewell, I jointly take my leave of thee and life, Go, tell the King thou hast a constant wife. I had a constant wife, I'll tell the King; Until the King— what dost thou smile? art thou A Father? Yea smiles on my cheeks arise, To see how sweetly a true virgin dies. Sir Walter Terrill, gallants are all ready, All ready. Well said, come, come, where's the Bride? She's going to forbid the Banes again. She'll die a maid: and see, she keeps her oath. Fair Caelestine! The Bride! She that was fair, Whom I called fair and Caelestine.
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)
Oh: That very name of poison, poisons me; Thou Winter of a man▪ thou walking graue, Whose life is like a dying Taper: how Canst thou define a Louers labouring thoughts? Wha Sent hast thou but death? what taste but earth? The breath that purles from thee, is like the Steame Of a new-open'd vault: I know thy drift, Because thou art trauelling to the land of Graues, Thou couetst company, and hether bringst, A health of poison to pledge death: a poison For this sweete spring; this lement is mine, This is the Ayre I breath; corrupt it not; This heauen is mine, I bought it with my soule, Of him that selles a heauen, to buy a soule. Well, let her goe; she's the thou cal'st her thine, Thy Element, the Ayre thou breath'st; thou knowst The Ayre thou breath'st is common, make her so: Perhaps thou't say; none but the King shall weare Thy night-gowne, she that laps thee warme with loue; And that Kings are not common: Then to shew, By consequence he cannot make her so, Indeede she may promoote her shame and thine, And with your shames, speake a good word for mine▪ The King shining so cleare, and we so dim, Our darke disgraces will be seene through him. Imagine her the cup of thy moist life, What man would pledge a King in his owne wife? She dye ▪ that sentence poisons her: O life! What slaue would pledge a King in his owne wife? Welcome, ô poyson phisicke against lust, Thou holesome medicine to a constant bloud; Thou rare Apothe cary that canst keepe, My chastity preseru'd, within this boxe; Of tempting dust, this painted earthen pot, That stands vpon the all of the white soule, To set the shop out like a flatterer, To draw the customers of Sinne: come, come, Thou art no poison, but a dyet-drinke, To moderate my bloud: White-innocent Wine, Art thou made guilty of my death? oh no, For thou thy selfe art poison'd, take me hence, For Innocence, shall murder Innocence. Holde, holde, thou shalt not dye, my Bride, my wife, O stop that speedy messenger of death; O let him not run downe that narrow path, Which leades vnto thy heart; nor carry newes To thy remoouing soule, that thou must dye. Tis done already, the Spirituall Court, Is breaking vp; all Offices discharg'd, My soule remooues from this weake standing house, Of fraile mortallity: Deare Father, blesse Me now and euer: Dearer Man farewell, I ioyntly take my leaue of thee and life, Goe, tell the King thou hast a constant wife. I had a constant wife, Ile tell the King; Vntill the King—what dost thou smile? art thou A Father? Yea smiles on my cheekes arise, To see how sweetly a true virgin dys. Sir Walter Terrill, gallants are all ready, All ready. Well said, come, come, wher's the Bride? She's going to forbid the Banes agen. She'll dye a maide: and see, she keeps her oath. Faire Caelestine! The Bride! She that was faire, Whom I cal'd faire and Caelesine.