Marston, John · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 [1602-1604] (Annals) tragicomedy · Children of the Chapel (second) unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 518 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
O help, help, conceal & save me. Thy shame more than thy wounds do grieve me far, Thy wounds but leave upon thy flesh some scar: But fame near heals still rankles worse and worse, Such is of uncontrolled Lust the curse. Think what it is in lawless sheets to lie, But o Ferneze what in lust to die: Then thou that shame respects o fly converse, With women's eyes and lisping wantonness: Stick candles 'gainst a virgin walls white back, If they not burn, yet at the least they'll black, Come I'll convey thee to a private port, Where thou shalt live (O happy man) from court. The beauty of the day begins to rise, From whose bright form night's heavy shadow flies. Now 'gins close plots to work, the Scene grows full, And craves his eyes who hath a solid Skull. 'tis grown to youth of day, how shall we waste this light? My heart's more heavy than a tyrant's crown. Shall we go hunt? Prepare for field. Would ye could be merry. Would God I could: Mendoza bid am haste. I would fain shift place, O vain relief. Sad souls may well change place, but not change grief: As deer being struck fly thorough many soils, Yet still the shaft stick fast, so, A good old simile my honest Lord, I am not much unlike to some sick-man, That long desired hurtful drink; at last Swills in and drinks his last, ending at once Both life and thirst: O would I near had known My own dishonour: good God, that men should Desire to search out that, which being found kills all Their joy of life: to taste the tree of Knowledge, And then be driven from out Paradise. Canst give me some comfort? My Lord, I have some books which have been dedicated to my honour, and I near read am, and yet they had very fine names: Physic for Fortune: lozengings of sanctified sincerity; very pretty works of curates, Scriveners and Schoolmasters. Mary I remember one Seneca, Lucius Aneus Seneca. Out upon him, he writ of Temperance and Fortitude, yet lived like a voluptuous Epicure, and died like an effeminate coward. Hast thee to Florence: here take our Letters, see 'em sealed, away: report in private to the honoured duke his daughter's forced disgrace, tell him at length we know too much, due complaints advance. There's nought that's safe and sweet but Ignorance. I cannot sleep my eyes ill neighbouring lids Will hold no fellowship: O thou pale sober night, Thou that in sluggish fumes all sense dost steep: Thou that gives all the world full leave to play, unbend'st the feebled veins of sweaty labour; The Galleyslave, that all the toilsome day, tugs at his oar against the stubborn wave, Straining his rugged veins; snores fast: The stooping Sitheman that doth barb the field, Thou mak'st wink sure: in night all creatures sleep, Only the Malcontent, that 'gainst his fate, Repines and quarrels, alas he's goodman tell-clock, His sallow jaw-bones sink with wasting moan, Whilst other beds are down, his pillows stone.
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)
O helpe, helpe, conceale & saue me. Thy shame more then thy wounds do grieue me far, ''Thy woundes but leaue vpon thy flesh some skarre: ''But fame neare heales still ranckl's worse and worse, ''Such is of vncontrolled Lust the cursse. ''Thinke what it is in lawlesse sheetes to lye, ''But ô Ferneze what in lust to die: ''Then thou that shame respects ô flie conuerse, ''With womens eyes and lisping wantonesse: ''Stick candells gainst a virgin walles white back, ''If they not burne, yet at the least theile blacke, Come Ile conuey thee to a priuate porte, Where thou shalt liue (O happy man) from court. The beautie of the daye begins to rize, From whose bright forme Nights heauie shadow flies. Now gins plots to worke, the Sceane growes full, And craues eyes who hath a sollid Skull. Tis growne to youth of day, how shall we wast this light? My hart's more heauie then a tyrants crowne. Shall we goe hunt? Prepare for field. Would yee could be merry. Would God I could: Mendoza bid am hast. I would faine shift place, O vaine reliefe. ''Sad soules may well change place, but not change griefe: As Deere being struck flie thorow many soyles, Yet still the shaft stick fast, so, A good old simile my honest Lord, I am not much vnlike to some sickman, That long desired hurtfull drinke; at last Swilles in and drinkes his last, ending at once Both life and thirst: O would I nere had knowne My owne dishonor: good God, that men should Desire to search out that, which being found kils all Their ioye of life: to taste the tree of Knowledge, And then be driuen from out Paradice. Canst giue me some comfort? My Lord, I haue some bookes which haue beene dedicated to my honor, and I neare read am, and yet they had very fine names: Phisicke for Fortune: Lozinges of sanctified sincerity; very prettie workes of Curats, Scriueners and Schoolemaisters. Mary I remember one Seneca, Lucius Aneus Seneca. Out vpon him, he writ of Temperance and Fortitude, yet liued like a voluptuous Epicure, and died like an effeminate coward. Hast thee to Florence: heere take our Letters, see um seald, awaye: report in priuate to the honourd duke his daughters forc'd disgrace, tell him at length we know too much, due complaints aduaunce. Theres naught thats safe and sweete but Ignorance. I cannot sleepe my eyes ill neighbouring lids Will holde no fellowship: O thou pale sober night, Thou that in sluggish fumes all sence doost steepe: Thou that giues all the world full leaue to play, Vnbendst the feebled vaines of sweatie labour; The Gally-slaue, that all the toilesome day, Tugges at his oare against the stubborne waue, Straining his rugged vaines; snores fast: The stooping Sheman that dooth barbe the field, Thou▪ makst winke sure: in night all creatures sleepe, Onely the Malecontent, that gainst his fate, Repines and quarrels, alas hees goodman tell-clock, His sallow aw-bones sincke with wasting mone, Whilst other beds are downe, his pillowes stone.