Anonymous · published 1606 · first performed or written 1602 [1601-1602] (Annals) comedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
ay, and of those that are scarce able to pay, Take the one half and forgive them the other, rather than sit out at all. Tush let me alone for that: But sirrah I have brought the Scholar into a fools Paradise: Why he has made me his spokesman to M. Lelia, And Gods my judge I near so much as name him to her. O byth' Mass well remembered, I'll tell you what I mean to do, I'll attire myself fit for the same purpose, Like to some hellish Hag or damned fiend, And meet with Sophos wandering in the woods, O I shall fray him terribly. I would thou couldst scar him out of his wits: Then should I ha' the wench cock sure, I doubt nobody but him. Well, let's go drink together; And then I'll go put on my devilish robes, I mean my Christmas Calves skin suit, And then walk to the woods, O I'll terrify him I warranty. Will heavens still smile at Sophos miseries, And give no end to my uncessant moans? These Cypress shades are witness of my woes, The senseless trees do grieve at my laments, The levy branches drop sweet Myrrha's tears, For love did scorn me in my mother's womb, And sullen Saturn pregnant at my birth, With all the fatal stars conspired in one, To frame a hapless constellation, Presaging Sophos luckless destiny. Here, here, doth Sophos turn Ixions restless wheel, And here lies wrapped in labyrinths of love. Of his sweet Lelia's love whose sole Idea still Prolongs the hapless date of Sophos hopeless life: Ah, said I life? a life far worse than death. Then death? I then ten thousand deaths. I daily die, in that I live loves thrall, They die thrice happy, that once die for all. Here will I stay my weary wandering steps, And lay me down upon this solid earth, The mother of despair and baleful thoughts, ay, this befits my melancholy moods: Now now methinks I hear the pretty birds, With warbling tunes record fair Lelia's name, Whose absence makes warm blood drop from my heart, And forceth watery tears from these my weeping eyes, methinks I hear the silver sounding streams, With gentle murmur summon me to sleep, Singing a sweet melodious lullaby: Here will I take a nap and drown my hapless hopes, In the Ocean seas of Never like to speed. Thus hath Syluanus left his levy bowers, Drawn by the sound of echoes sad reports, That with shrill notes and high resounding voice, Doth pierce the very Caverns of the earth, And rings through hills and dales the sad laments Of virtues loss and Sophos mournful plaints. Now Morpheus, rouse thee from thy sable den, Charm all his senses with a slumbering trance, Whilst old Syluanus send a lovely train Of Satyrs, dryads, and watery Nymphs, Out of their bowers to tune their silver strings, And with sweet sounding music sing. Some pleasing Madrigals and Rondelays, To comfort Sophos in his deep distress.
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)
I, and of thoſe that are ſcarſe able to pay, Take the one halfe and forgiue them the other, rather then ſit out at all. Tuſh let me alone for that: But ſirra I haue brought the Scholler into a fooles Paradiſe: Why he has made me his ſpokeſman to M. Lelia, And Gods my Iudge I nere ſo much as name him to hir. O bith Mas well remembred, Ile tell you what I meane to doe, Ile attire my ſelfe fit for the ſame purpoſe, Like to ſome helliſh Hag or damned fiend, And meete with Sophos wandring in the woods, O I ſhall fray him terribly. I would thou couldſt ſcarre him out of his wits: Then ſhould I ha the wench cocke ſure, I doubt no body but him. Well, lets go drinke together; And then Ile go put on my diueliſh roabes, I meane my Chriſtmas Calues skin ſute, And then walke to the woodes, O Ile terrifie him I warrantye. Will heauens ſtill ſmile at Sophos miſeries, And giue no end to my vnceſſant mones? Theſe Cipreſſe ſhades are witneſſe of my woes, The ſenſeleſſe trees do grieue at my laments, The leauie branches drop ſweete Myrrhas teares, For loue did ſcorne me in my mothers wombe, And ſullen Saturne pregnant at my birth, With all the fatall ſtarres conſpir'd in one, To frame a hapleſſe conſtellation, Preſaging Sophos luckleſſe deſtinie. Here, here, doth Sophos turne reſtleſſe wheele, And here lies wrapt in labyrinths of loue. Of his ſweete Lelias loue whoſe ſole Id ſtill▪ Prolongs the hapleſſe date of Sophos hopeleſſe life: Ah, ſaid I life? a life farre worſe then death. Then death? I then ten thouſand deaths. I daily die, in that I liue loues thrall, They die thriſe happie, that once die for all. Here will I ſtay my weary wandring ſteps, And lay me downe vpon this ſolid earth, The mother of deſpaire and balefull thoughts, I, this befits my melancholy moodes: Now now me thinkes I heare the prettie birds, With warbling tunes record faire Lelias name, Whoſe abſence makes warme bloud drop from my heart, And forceth watrie teares from theſe my weeping eyes, Me thinkes I heare the ſiluer ſounding ſtreames, With gentle murmur ſummon me to ſleepe, Singing a ſweete melodious lullabie: Here will I take a nap and drowne my hapleſſe hopes, In the Ocean ſeas of Neuer like to ſpeed. Thus hath Syluanus left his leauie bowers, Drawne by the ſound of Ecchoes ſad reports, That with ſhrill notes and high reſounding voice, Doth pearce the very Cauerns of the earth, And rings through hils and dales the ſad laments Of virtues loſſe and Sophos mournefull plaints. Now Morpheus, rowſe thee from thy ſable den, Charme all his ſenſes with a ſlumbering trance, Whil'ſt old Syluanus ſend a louely traine Of Satyrs, Driades, and watrie Nymphes, Out of their bowers to tune their ſiluer ſtrings▪ And with ſweete ſounding muſicke ſing. Some pleaſing Madrigalles and Rowndelayes, To comfort Sophos in his deepe diſtreſſe.