Marston, John · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 [1602-1604] (Annals) tragicomedy · Children of the Chapel (second) unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Night dear Maquerelle. May my possets operation send you my wit and honesty, And me your youth and beauty, the pleasingst rest. Strike, strike. Save my Ferneze, o save my Ferneze. Follow, pershew. O save Ferneze. Pierce, pierce, thou shallow fool drop there, He that attempts a PRINCE's lawless love, Must have broad hands, close heart with Argos eyes, And back of Hercules, or else he dies. Follow, follow, Stand off, forbear, ye most uncivil Lords. Strike. Do not; tempt not a man resolved; Would you inhuman murderers more than death? O poor Ferneze. Alas now all defence too late. he's dead. I am sorry for our shame, go to your bed, Weep not too much, but leave some tears to shed When I am dead? What weep for thee? my soul no tears shall find. Alas, alas, that women's souls are blind. Betray such beauty? murder such youth? contemn civility, He loves him not that rails not at him. Thou canst not move us, we have blood enough; And please you Lady we have quite forgot All your defects: if not, why then Not. Not: the best of rest, good night. Despite go with thee. Madam, you ha' done me soul disgrace, You have wronged him much, loves you too much. Go to; your soul knows you have. I think I have. Do you but think so? Nay sure I have, my eyes have witnessed thy love, Thou hast stood too firm for me. Why tell me fair checked Lady, who even in tears Art powerfully beauteous, what unadvised passion Struck ye into such a violent heat against me, Speak, what mischief wronged us? what devil injured us? Speak? That thing near worthy of the name of man; Ferneze, Ferneze swore thou lov'st Emillia, Which to advance, with most reproachful breath, Thou both didst blemish and denounce my love. Ignoble Villain, did I for this bestride Thy wounded limbs; for this? rank opposite Even to my Sovereign: for this? O God for this? Sunk all my hopes, and with my hopes my life, Ripped bare my throat unto the hangman's Axe, Thou most dishonoured trunk— Emillia? By life I know her not— Emillia? Did you believe him? Pardon me, I did. Did you, and thereupon you graced him? I did. Took him to favour, nay even clasped with him? Alas I did. This night? This night. And in your lustful twines the Duke took you? A most sad truth. O God, O God, how we dull honest souls, Heavy brained men, are swallowed in the bogs Of a deceitful ground, whilst nimble bloods, Light jointed spirits pent, cut good men's throats, And scape alas, I am too honest for this age, Too full of phlegm, and heavy steadiness: Stood still whilst this slave cast a noose about me; Nay than to stand in honour of him, and her, Who had even sliced my heart. Come I did err, and am most sorry, I did err. Why we are both but dead, the Duke hates us,
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)
Night deere Maquerelle. May my possets operation send you my witt and honesty, And me your youth and beauty, the pleasingst rest. Strike, strike. Saue my Ferneze, ô saue my Ferneze. Follow, pershew. O saue Ferneze. Pierce, pierce, thou shallow foole drop there, He that attempts a Princes lawlesse loue, Must haue broad hands, close hart with Argos eyes, And back of Hercules, or els he dyes. Follow, follow, Stand off, forbeare, yee most vnciuill Lords. Strike. Do not; tempt not a man resolu'd; Would you inhumane murtherers more then death? O poore Ferneze. Alas now all defence too late. Hee's dead. I am sory for our shame, goe to your bed, Weepe not too much, but leaue some teares to shed When I am dead? What weepe for thee? my soule no teares shall find. Alas, alas, that womens soules are blind. Betraye such beauty? murther such youth? contemne ciuilitie, He loues him not that railes not at him. Thou canst not mooue vs, we haue blood inough; And please you Lady we haue quite forgot All your defects: if not, why then Not. Not: the best of rest, good night. Despight goe with thee. Madam, you ha done me soule disgrace, You haue wrongd him much, loues you too much. Goe to; your soule knowes you haue. I thinke I haue. Do you but thinke so? Nay sure I haue, my eyes haue witnessed thy loue, Thou hast stood too firme for me. Why tell me faire checkt Lady, who euen in teares Art powerfully beautious, what vnaduised passion Strooke yee into such a violent heate against me, Speake, what mischiefe wrongd vs? what diuell iniur'd vs? Speake? That thing nere worthy of the name of mā; Ferneze, Ferneze swore thou lou'st Emillia, Which to aduance, with most reprochfull breath, Thou both didst blemish and denounce my loue. Ignoble Villaine, did I for this bestride Thy wounded limbs; for this? ranck opposite Euen to my Soueraigne: for this? O God for this? Sunke all my hopes, and with my hopes my life, Ript bare my throate vnto the hangmans Axe, Thou most dishonour'd trunke—Emillia? By life I know her not—Emillia? Did you beleeue him? Pardon me, I did. Did you, and therevpon you graced him? I did. Tooke him to fauour, nay euen claspd with him? Alas I did. This night? This night. And in your lustfull twines the Duke tooke you? A most sad truth. O God, O God, how we dull honest soules, Heauy braind men, are swallowed in the bogs Of a deceitfull ground, whilst nimble bloods, Light iointed spirits pent, cut good mens throats, And scape alas, I am too honest for this age, Too full of fleame▪ and heauy steddinesse: Stood still whilst this slaue cast a noose about me; Nay then to stand in honor of him, and her, Who had euen slic'd my hart. Come I did erre, and am most sorry, I did erre. Why we are both but dead, the Duke hates vs,