Day, John · published 1608 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1608] (Annals) comedy · Children of the King's Revels unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
That most intelligencers are knaves, and some women dissemblers; being thought dead (as let me alone to buzz that into the credulous ear of the Court) if she have any sparks of love, they'll kindle and flame bright through the cinders of her heart. If not, If not, 'twill be a means for your escape: i'll say you requested at your death to be buried at your native City: and what Courtier, if a Christian can deny that? I am all thine, my humour's thy patient. And if I do not kill it, I am not worthy to be your physician. I mary Lady; why now you credit your sex: a woman's honour or humour should be like a ship under sail, split her keel ere she vail. I'll split my heart ere my humour strike sail: here comes his Page, how now boy? how doth your master. Well madam he. Well? Very well. Where is he? Where none of your proud sex will ever come, I think: in heaven. Is he dead? See madam, and seeing blush, and blushing shame, that your ungentle humour should be the death of so good and generous a spirit. My Aspero dead! Boy See madam, what a mutation I see too much, and curse my proud humour that was the cause of it: Aspero, kind soul, proud sullen Florimell, disdainful humour, that in one minute hast eternally undone me: I would not kiss the living substance, that being dead dote on thy picture: oh I loved thee ever with my soul: O let me kiss this shroud of beauty: I would not accept thee living, that being dead on my knees adore thee: could kisses recover thee, I would dwell on thy lips: kneel till my knees grew to the ground, dear gentle Aspero she that procured thy death will die with thee, And crave no heaven, but still to lie with thee. I take you at your word Lady: Nay never recant, I have witness on't now: is your proud humour come down? could you not have said so at first? and saved me a labour of dying? Lives Aspero? Live quotha? 'sfoot what man would be so mad to lie in his cold grave alone, and may lie in a warm bed with such a beautiful wife as this will be? have I ta'en your humour napping i'faith? Am I over reached? In your humour Madam, nothing else, and I am as proud on't. Do not flout me; and you do, I shall grow into my humour again. In jest. In earnest I shall, and then I know what I know. You may: but and you do, I shall die again. In jest. Nay in earnest madam, and then— No more, thou hast driven me clean out of conceit with my humour, I love thee, I confess it, shalt be my husband, i'll live with thee, thou art my life, and i'll die with thee. What more I mean is coated in my look, If thou accept'st it, swear,
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)
That moſt intelligencers are knaues, and ſome women diſſēblers; being thought dead (as let me alone to buz that into the credulous eare of the Court) if ſhe haue any ſparkes of loue, theil kindle and flame bright through the cinders of her hart. If not, If not, twill be a meanes for your eſcape: ile ſay you requeſted at your death to be buried at your natiue Citty: and what Courtier, if a Chriſtian can deny that? I am all thine, my humor's thy patient. And if I do not kill it, I am not worthy to be your phyſitian. I mary Lady; why now you credit your ſex: a womans honor or humour ſhould be like a ſhip vnder ſayle, ſplit her keele ere ſhe vaile. Ile ſplit my heart ere my humor ſtrike ſaile: here comes his Page, how now boy? how doth your maſter. Well madam he. VVell? Very well. VVhere is he? VVhere none of your proude ſex will euer come, I thinke: in heauen. Is he dead? See madam, and ſeeing bluſh, and bluſhing ſhame, that your vngentle humor ſhould be the death of ſo good and generous a ſpirit. My Aſpero dead! Boy See madam, what a mutation I ſee too much, and curſe my proud humour that was the cauſe of it: Aſpero, kind ſoule, proud ſullen Florimell, diſdainefull humor, that in one minute haſt eternally vndone me: I would not kiſſe the liuing ſubſtance, that being dead doate on thy picture: oh I lou'd thee euer with my ſoule: O let me kiſſe this ſhrowd of beauty: I would not accept thee liuing, that being dead on my knees adore thee: could kiſſes recouer thee, I would dwell on thy lips: kneele till my knees grew to the ground, deere gentle Aſpero ſhe that procurde thy death will die with thee, And craue no heauen, but ſtill to lie with thee. I take you at your word Lady: Nay neuer recant, I haue witnes on't now: is your proud humor come downe? could you not haue ſaid ſo at firſt? and ſau'd me a labour of dying? Liues Aſpero? Liue quotha? ſfoot what man would bee ſo mad to lye in his colde graue alone, and may lie in a warme bed with ſuch a beautifull wife as this will be? haue I tane your humour napping yfaith? Am I ore reacht? In your humour Madam, nothing els, and I am as proude on't. Do not flowt me; and you doe, I ſhall grow into my humour againe. In ieaſt. In earneſt I ſhall, and then I know what I know. You may▪ but and you do, I ſhall die againe. In ieaſt. Nay in earneſt madam, and then— No more, thou haſt driuen mee cleane out of conceite with my humor, I loue thee, I confeſſe it, ſhalt be my husband, ile liue with thee, thou art my life, and ile die with thee. VVhat more I meane is coated in my looke, If thou acceptſt it, ſweare,