Marston, John / Webster, 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 · 499 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
My cell 'tis Lady, where instead of masks, Music, tilts, tourneys, and such court like shows, The hollow murmur of the checkless winds Shall groan again, whilst the unquiet sea Shakes the whole rock with foamy battery: There Usherless the air comes in and out: The rheumy vault will force your eyes to weep, Whilst you behold true desolation: A rocky barrenness shall pierce your eyes, Where all at once one reaches where he stands, With brows the roof, both walls with both his hands. It is too good, blessed spirit of my Lord, O in what orb so ere thy soul is throne, Behold me worthily most miserable: O let the anguish of my contrite spirit Entreat some reconciliation: If not, o joy, triumph in my just grief, Death is the end of woes, and tears relief. Belike your Lord not loved you, was unkind. O heaven! As the soul loved the body, so loved he, 'twas death to him to part my presence, Heaven to see me pleased: Yet I, like to a wretch given o'er to hell, Broke all the sacred rites of marriage, To clip a base ungentle faithless villain. O God, a very Pagan reprobate: What should I say? ungrateful, throws me out, For whom I lost soul, body, fame and honour: But 'tis most fit; why should a better fate Attend on any, who forsake chaste sheets, Fly the embrace of a devoted heart, joined by a solemn vow fore God and man, To taste the brackish blood of beastly lust, In an adulterous touch? o ravenous immodesty, Insatiate impudence of appetite; Look, here's your end, for mark what sap in dust, What sin in good, even so much love in lust: joy to thy ghost, sweet Lord, pardon to me. 'tis the duke's pleasure this night you rest in court. Soul lurk in shades, run shame from brightsome skies, In night the blind man misseth not his eyes. Do not weep▪ kind cuckold, take comfort man, thy betters have been Beccoes': Agamemnon Emperor of all the merry Greekes that tickled all the true Trojans, was a Cornuto: Prince Arthur that cut off twelve King's beards, was a Cornuto: Hercules, whose back bore up heaven, and got forty wenches with child in one night. Nay 'twas fifty. Faith forty's enough a conscience, yet was a Cornuto: patience, mischief grows proud, be wise. Thou pinchest too deep, art too keen upon me. Tut, a pitiful Surgeon makes a dangerous sore. I'll tent thee to the ground. Thinkest I'll sustain myself by flattering thee, because thou art a Prince? I had rather follow a drunkard, and hue by licking up his vomit, than by servile flattery. Yet great men ha' dooned. Great slaves fear better than love, borne naturally for a coal-basket, though the common usher of Prince's presence fortune hath blindly given them better place, I am vowed to be thy affliction. Prithee be, I love much misery, and be thou son to me.
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)
My cell tis Lady, where insteede of maskes, Musicke, tilts, tournies, and such court like shewes, The hollow murmure of the checklesse windes Shall groane againe, whilst the vnquiet sea Shakes the whole rocke with foamy battery: There Vsherlesse the ayre comes in and out: The rheumy vault will force your eyes to weepe, Whilst you behold true desolation: A rocky barrennesse shall pierce your eyes, Where all at once one reaches where he stands, With browes the roofe, both walles with both his handes. It is too good, blessed spirite of my Lord, O in what orbe so ere thy soule is throand, Beholde me worthily most miserable: O let the anguish of my contrite spirite Intreate some reconciliation: If not, ô ioy, triumph in my iust griefe, Death is the end of woes, and teares reliefe. Belike your Lord not lou'd you, was vnkinde. O heauen! As the soule lou'd the body, so lou'd he, Twas death to him to part my presence, Heauen to see me pleased: Yet I, like to a wretch giuen or'e to hell, Brake all the sacred rites of marriage, To clippe a base vngentle faithlesse villaine. O God, a very Pagan reprobate: What should I say? vngratefull, throwes me out, For whom I lost soule, body, fame and honor: But tis most fit; why should a better fate Attend on any, who forsake chaste sheetes, Fly the embrace of a deuoted heart, Ioynd by a solemne vow fore God and man, To taste the brackish bloud of beastly lust, In an adulterous touch? ô rauenous immodesty, Insatiate impudence of appetite; Looke, heeres your end, for marke what sap in dust, What sinne in good, euen so much lou in lust: Ioy to thy ghost, sweete Lord, pardon to me. Tis the dukes pleasure this night you rest in court. Soule lurke in shades, run shame from brightsome skies, In night the blinde man misseth not his eyes. Doe not weepe▪ kinde cuckolde, take comfort man, thy betters haue beene Beccoes: Agamemnon Emperour of all the merry Greekes that tickeled all the true Troyans, was a Cornuto: Prince Arthur that cut off twelue Kings beardes, was a Cornuto: Hercules, whose backe bore vp heauen, and got forty wenches with childe in one night. Nay twas fifty. Faith fortie's enow a conscience, yet was a Cornto: patience, mischiefe growes prowde, be wise. Thou pinchest too deepe, arte too keene vpon me. Tut, a pittifull Surgeon makes a dangerous sore. Ile tent thee to the ground. Thinkest Ile sustaine my selfe by flattering thee, because thou art a Prince? I had rather followe a drunkard, and hue by licking vp his vomite, than by seruile flattery. Yet great men ha doon't. Grat slaues feare better than loue, borne naturally for a coale-basket, though the common vsher of Princes presence fortune hath blindely giuen them better place, I am vowed to be thy affliction. Prethee be, I loue much misery, and be thou sonne to me.