Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1604 [1603-1604] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 512 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
O thou art framed of constancy thyself, Challener what a jewel diddest thou loss, By shoing it unto thy faithless friend, and how like dross doth he account of it, Come virtuous maiden wipe those crystiall eyes, thou weeps for love of him which love defies, Let's in to counsel what may best relieve, Where tears and sorrow gives men cause to grieve. What spiteful fortune Vallenger is this, this villain Doctor hath betrayed my trust, and to my father all my plots revealed, Who flat denies me succour or relief, I dare not I be seen within the city, For then there is no way but strait to prison, I'll call to mistress Florence I know that she is kind, to her i'll show my grief and my sick mind, Ho, mistress Florence. Whose there, sweet Vallenger ist thee, Why dost thou look so sad, how fairs my dear? Y faith never worse, but all my hopes in thee, What is it sweet I will not do for thee? My Father and my wife knows all my drift, And all enraged, threatens to be revenged, And will not let me have no maintenance, But swears to plague me for my wickedness. Is the wind in that door, What would you have me do? To let me live with thee a little space, Until I have obtained my Father's grace, Than what I have sweet mistress shall be thine. And what shall I do, beg the while, No Vallenger your deceived in me, think you that i'll be privy to your plotes, to bring myself in danger of the Law, Go to your wife and cherish her at home, I do not like these wanton humours I. I hope sweet Florence that you do but jest. Be shrew my heart then, do not take it so, Pray leave my house, lest your father come. Give me house-room Florence but to night, Not an hour, shall I have my reputation Touched for thee, if you linger here, I'll send for the Officers to discharge myself. It is even thus, well what remedy: Lie in the fields wretch, there despair and die. Pray God that Sentloe be not murdered now, Then all my hopes are lost. How now Blunt what news? Sentlove hath drunk his last, the deed is done. Then are we undone Blunt? Why, wherefore. The poor dejected Vallenger was here, As dry as dust not left a single doit, His father vows to follow law of him, Well, would that Sentlove were alive again. 'tis done, and therefore now there is no help. Yes Blunt, there's help, but mark a woman's wit, Vallenger is but new gone out of doors, Go follow him, and mark where he lies down, And if thou seest he is inclined to sleep, Lay Sentloes' murdered body hard by him, Pluck out his sword, and all be bloody it, And then cry murder as if he did the deed, About it Blunt, do not the same neglect, And then we two are free from all suspect.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O thou art framd of conſtancie thy ſelfe, Challener what a iewell dideſt thou loſſe, By ſhoing it vnto thy faithles friend, and how like droſſe doth he account of it, Come vertuous maiden wipe thoſe cryſtiall eies, thou weepes for loue of him which loue defies, Lets in to counſell what may beſt relieue, Where teares and ſorrow giues men cauſe to grieue. What ſpightfull fortune Vallenger is this, this villaine Docter hath betraide my truſt, and to my father all my plots reuealed, Who flat denies me ſuccor or reliefe, I dare not I be ſeene within the citty, For then there is no way but ſtraight to priſon, Ile call to miſtris Florence I know that ſhe is kind, to her ile ſhow my griefe and my ſick mind, Ho, miſtris Florence. Whoſe there, ſwéet Vallenger iſt thée, Why doſt thou looke ſo ſad, how faires my deare? Y ſaith neuer worſe, but all my hopes in thée, What is it ſwéet I will not do for thée? My Father and my wife knowes all my drift, And all inraged, threatens to be reuengd, And will not let me haue no maintenance, But ſweares to plague me for my wickednes. Is the wind in that doore, What would you haue me do? To let me liue with thée a little ſpace, Vntill I haue obtained my Fathers grace, Then what I haue ſwéet miſtris ſhall be thine. And what ſhall I do, beg the while, No Vallenger your deceaued in me, think you that ile be priuy to your plotes, to bring my ſelfe in danger of the Law, Go to your wife and cheriſh her at home, I do not like theſe wanton humors I. I hope ſweet Florence that you do but ieſt. Be ſhrow my hart then, do not take it ſo, Pray leaue my houſe, leaſt your father come. Giue me houſe-roome Florence but to night, Not an houre, ſhall I haue my reputation Touched for thée, if you linger héere, Ile ſend for the Officers to diſcharg my ſelfe. It is euen thus, well what remedy: Lie in the fields wretch, there diſpaire and die. Pray God that Sentloe be not murdred now, Ten all my hopes are loſt. How now Blunt what newes? Sentlo hath drunk his laſt, the déed is done. Then are we vndone Blunt? Why, wherefore. The poore deiected Vallenger was héere, As dry as duſt not left a ſingle doyt, His father vowes to follow law of him, Well, would that Sentlo were aliue againe. Tis done, and therefore now there is no help. Yes Blunt, thers help, but marke a womans wit, Vallenger is but new gone out of doores, Go follow him, and mark where he lies downe, And if thou ſéeſt he is inclinde to ſléepe, Lay Sentloes murdred body hard by him, Pluck out his ſword, and all be bloudy it, And then cry murder as if he dyd the déed, About it Blunt, do not the ſame neglect, And then we two are frée from all ſuſpect.