The Dutch Courtesan (Cockle de Moye) · chunk 32 of 35
Marston, John · published 1605 · first performed or written 1605 [1603-1605] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Ha, you do speak, I do see you, I do live, I would not die now: Let me not burst with wonder. Call up your blood, I live to honour you, As the admired glory of your sex. Nor ever hath my love been false to you. Only I presumed to try your faith too much, For which I most am grieved. Brother; I must be plain with you, you have wronged us. I am not so Covetous to deny it, But yet when my discourse hath staid your quaking, You will be smother lipped: and the delight And satisfaction which we all have got, Under these strange disguisings, when you know, You will be mild and quiet, forget at last, " It is much joy to think on sorrows past. Do you then live? and are you not untrue? Let me not die with joy, pleasure's more extreme: Then grief, there's nothing sweet to man but mean. Heaven cannot be too gracious to such goodness, I shall discourse to you the several chances, but hark I must yet rest disguised, the sudden close of many drifts now meet, " Where pleasure hath some profit, art is sweet. News, news, news, news. Oysters, Oysters, oysters, oysters. Why, is not this well now? Is not this better than louring, and pouting, and puling, which is hateful to the living, and vain to the dead? Come, come, you must live by the quick, when all is done, and for my own part, let my wife laugh at me when I am dead, so she'll smile upon me whilst I live, but to see a woman Whine, and yet keep her eyes dry mourn, and yet keep her cheeks fat: nay, to see a woman claw her husband by the feet when he is dead, that would have scratched him by the face when he was living: this now is somewhat ridiculous. Lord how you prate. And yet I was afraid i'faith that I should ha' seen a Garland on this beauty's hearse, but time, truth, experience, and variety, are great doers with women. But what's the news? the news I pray you? I pray you? near pray me: for by your leave you may command me. This 'tis: the public sessions which this day is past, hath doomed to death ill fortuned Malhereux. But sir, we heard he offered to make good, That Frevile lived at Shatews the jewellers. And that 'twas but a plot betwixt them two. O ay, ay, he gaged his life with it, but know When all approached the test, Shatews divide He saw or heard of any such complot, Or of Frevill: so that his own defence, Appeared so false, that like a madman's sword, He stroke his own heart, he hath the course of law and instantly must suffer: but the jest (If hanging be a jest) as many make it) Is to take notice of one Mullegrub, a sharking vintner. What of him Sir. Nothing but hanging, the Whoreson slave is mad before he hath lost his senses. Was his fact clear and made apparent Sir?
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T30 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Ha, you do ſpeake, I do ſee you, I do liue, I would not die now: Let me not burſt with wonder. Call vp your bloode, I liue to honor you, As the admired glorie of your ſex. Nor euer hath my loue bin falſe to you. Onely I preſum'd to try your faith too much, For which I moſt am grieued. Brother; I muſt be plaine with you, you haue wrong'd vs. I am not ſo Couetous to deny it, But yet when my diſcourſe hath ſtaide your quaking, You will be ſmoother lipt: and the delight And ſatisfaction which we all haue got, Vnder theſe ſtrange diſguiſings, when you know, You will be milde and quiet, forget at laſt, "It is much ioy to thinke on ſorrowes paſt. Do you then liue? and are you not ntrue? Let me not die with Ioy, pleaſure's more extream: Then greefe, thers nothing ſweet to ma but meane. Heauen cannot be too gratious to ſuch goodneſſe, I ſhall diſcourſe to you the ſeueral chances, but harke I muſt yet reſt diſguiſd, the ſudden cloſe of many drifts now meet, "Where pleaſure hath ſome profit, ar is ſweet. Newes, newes, newes, newes. Oyſters, Oyſters, oyſters, oyſters. Why, is not this well now? Is not this better then louring, and pouting, and puling, which is hatefull to the liuing, and vaine to the dead? Come, come, you muſt liue by the quicke, when all is done, and for my owne part, let my wife laugh at me when I am dead, ſo ſeele ſmile vpon me whilſt I liue, but to ſee a woman Whine, and yet keepe her eies mourne, and yet keepe her cheekes fat: nay, to ſee a woman caw her huſbande by the feete when he is dead, that would haue ſcratcht him by the face whe he was liuing: this now is ſomewhat rediculous. Lord how you prate. And yet I was afraide ifaith that I ſhoulde ha ſeene a Garland on this beauties herſe, but time, truth, experience, and varietie, are great doers with women. But whats the newes? the newes I pray you? I pray you? nere pray me: for by your leaue you may command me. This tis: the publique ſeſsions which this day is paſt, hath doom'd to death ill fortun'd Malhereux. But ſir, we heard he offerd to make good, That Freuile liu'd at Shatews the Iewellers. And that twas but a plot betwixt them two. O I, I, he gagd his life with it, but know When all approcht the teſt, Shatews deuide He ſaw or heard of any ſuch complot, Or of Freuill: ſo that his owne defence, Appeard ſo falſe, that like a madmans ſword, He ſtroke his owne hart, he hath the courſe of law and inſtantly muſt ſuffer: but the Ieſt (If hanging be a ieſt) as many make it) Is to take notice of one Mullegrub, a ſharking vintner. What of him Sir. Nothing but hanging, the Whoreſone ſlaue is mad before he hath loſt his ſences. Was his fact cleere and made aparant Sir?