Chapman, George · published 1607 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) tragedy · Children of Paul's (second) · Paul's unassigned nearest T5 Christian faith, sin and salvation · 454 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T5: god, christ, david, sin, holy, israel, lord, mercy, sins, faith.
O who is turned into my Lord and husband? Husband? My Lord? None but my Lord and husband. Heaven, I ask thee remission of my sins, Not of my pains: husband, o help me husband. What rape of honour and religion? O wrack of nature. Poor man: o my father, Father? look up; o let me down my Lord, And I will write. Author of prodigies! What new flame breaks out of the firmament, That turns up counsels never known before? Now is it true, earth moves, and heaven stands still; Even Heaven itself must see and suffer ill: The too huge bias of the world hath swayed Her backpart upwards, and with that she braves This Hemisphere, that long her mouth hath mocked: The gravity of her religious face: (Now grown too weighty with her sacrilege And here discerned sophisticate enough) Turns to th'Antipodes: and all the forms That her illusions have impressed in her, Have eaten through her back: and now all see, How she is riveted with hypocrisy: Was this the way? was he the mean betwixt you? He was, he was, kind innocent man he was. Write, write a word or two. I will, I will. I'll write, but in my blood that he may see, These lines come from my wounds and not from me. Well might he die for thought: methinks the frame And shaken joints of the whole world should crack To see her parts so disproportionate; And that his general beauty cannot stand Without these stains in the particular man. Why wander I so far? here here was she That was a whole world without spot to me: Though now a world of spots; oh what a lightning Is man's delight in women? what a bubble, He builds his state, fame, life on, when he marries? Since all earth's pleasures are so short and small, The way t'enjoy it, is t'abjure it all: Enough: I must be messenger myself, Disguised like this strange creature: in, I'll after, To see what guilty light gives this cave eyes, And to the world sing new impieties. Sit up tonight, and watch, I'll speak with none But the old friar, who bring to me. We will Sir. What violent heat is this? methinks the fire Of twenty lives doth on a sudden flash Through all my faculties: the air goes high In this close chamber, and the frighted earth! Trembles, and shrinks beneath me: the whole house Cracks with his shaken burden; bless me, heaven. Note what I want, my son, and be forewarned: O there are bloody deeds passed and to come, I cannot stay: a fate doth ravish me: I'll meet thee in the chamber of thy love.
seed 43: T4 · seed 44: T5 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O who is turn'd into my Lord and husband? Husband? My Lord? None but my Lord and husband. Heauen, I aske thee remission of my sinnes, Not of my paines: husband, ô helpe me husband. What rape of honour and religion? O wracke of nature. Poore man: ô my father, Father? looke vp; ô let me downe my Lord, And I will write. Author of prodigies! What new flame breakes out of the firmament, That turnes vp counsels neuer knowne before? Now is it true, earth mooues, and heauen stands still; Euen Heauen it selfe must see and suffer ill: The too huge bias of the world hath swai'd Her backe-part vpwards, and with that she braues This Hemisphere, that long her mouth hath mockt: The grauitie of her religious face: (Now growne too waighty with her sacriledge And here discernd sophisticate enough) Turnes to th'Antipodes: and all the formes That her illusions haue imprest in her, Haue eaten through her backe: and now all see, How she is riueted with hypocrisie: Was this the way? was he the meane betwixt you? He was, he was, kind innocent man he was. Write, write a word or two. I will, I will. Ile write, but in my bloud that he may see, These lines come from my wounds and not from me. Well might he die for thought: me thinkes the frame And shaken ioints of the whole world should crack To see her parts so disproportionate; And that his generall beauty cannot stand Without these staines in the particular man. Why wander I so farre? heere heere was she That was a whole world without spot to me: Though now a world of spots; oh what a lightning Is mans delight in women? what a bubble, He builds his state, fame, life on, when he marries? Since all earths pleasures are so short and small, The way t'nioy it, is t'abiure it all: Enough: I must be messenger my selfe, Disguis'd like this strange creature: in, Ile after, To see what guilty light giues this caue eies, And to the world sing new impieties. Sit vp to night, and watch, Ile speake with none But the old frier, who bring to me. We will Sir. What violent heat is this? me thinks the fire Of twenty liues doth on a sudden flash Through all my faculties: the aire goes high In this close chamber, and the frighted earth! Trembles, and shrinkes beneath me: the whole house Crackes with his shaken burthen; blesse me, heauen. Note what I want, my sonne, and be forewarnd: O there are bloudy deeds past and to come, I cannot stay: a fate doth rauish me: Ile meet thee in the chamber of thy loue.