Armin, Robert · published 1609 · first performed or written 1606 [c.1606-1608] (Annals) comedy · Children of the King's Revels T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.75 · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
And yet methinks death should not Take her from me, being scarce mine own. But newly wed, never bedded yet. So that the Ceremony burning bright, Hymen yet hath his tapers flaming red. And the bold boastings of that good man's breath. That all religiously made one of two. Hardly disgesled in the freezing cold, Little I thought the priest's word being, ever, Should find his period in so short a time. Sir, but the gift was given ye on condition, Till death depart, better or worse, methinks this Catechizing little needs, To human guiding, and to you the less Knowing what openly you do confess. Bear wi' me master, he that pines in grief, Lives as you sailors do, thinking at sea, Every storm ends, when flattery flouts ye, So to our lovesick sorrow comes a calm, By ease of fancies, when 'tis furthest, And many times the weapon that doth wound, Is salve, and Surgeon both, to make all sound. Are ye ready sir? All fitted, let me take my last farewell, I am all jelly in my tears and sighs, Wasted by waiting her untimely loss, So long I did consume in drops of woe, That contrary I laugh to think it so. He that weeps much, having no tears to spend, Smiles out the rest, but inwardly does rend, O God that I venturing so hard a chance, Should lose my dice, before my hand be out, 'tis even so, in all things man intends The loss is ours, the winnings not our friends. For charity be brief, should the wind Turn his beak into the southern side Our ship would leave us, dally not with grief, Once and no more, let sorrow rule as chief. Then thus, and this the last, Moll, I take leave yet on thy hearsed self, Dead selfe, and selfe slaine. Moll dcest I am thy morning music, call thee up, To wedded rights, I lead thee to the Church, And there receive thee, dine with thee at noon, Dance all the after day, bring thee at night Into the wedding chamber, this is it. And here I leave thee to thy virgin slumber, Never attempted, as thy birth bestowed, Madam beginning, take it in thy end, So live thus die, only my married friend, And nothing else, gone art thou to a power, Which will with welcomes take thee, left I am To the world's cross, thy father who enraged, Will bitterly revenge thy death on me, But I will prove his martyr, se-thee Moll, Fool that I am to say so, here is all, Gowns, tire, all abiliments of thine, No rag shall rest remembrant in my view. To stir the embers of thy dying fire, I kiss thy key cold corpse, and with this key, Lock thee for ever up, farewell, farewell, My mouth the Church, my voice thy Parting knell. All cares that live and hear This bell to toll, christianlike bid peace unto her soul.
nodes 1322–1386 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 25 of 33 in this edition
Length
499 words · 665 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.752 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And yet me thinkes death should not Take her from me, being scarce mine owne. But newly wed, neuer bedded yet. So that the Ceremony burning bright, Himen yet hath his tapers flaming red. And the bold boastings of that good mans breath. That all religiously made one of two. Hardly disgesled in the freezing cold, Little I thought the priests word being, euer, Should find his period in so short a time. Sir, but the gift was giuen ye on condition, Till death depart, better or worse, Me thinkes this Catechizing little needes, To humane guiding, and to you the lesse Knowing what openly you do confesse. Beare w'e me maister, he that pines in griefe, Liues as you sailors doe, thinking at sea, Euery storme ends, when flattery flouts ye, So to our loue-sick sorrow comes a calme, By ease of fancies, when tis furthest, And many times the weapon that doth wound, Is salue, and Surgeon both, to make all sound. Are ye ready sir? All sitted, let me take my last farewel, I am all gelly in my teares and sighes, Wasted by waiting her vntimely losse, So long I did consume in drops of woe, That contrary I laugh to thinke it so. He that weepes much, hauing no teares to spend, Smiles out the rest, but inwardly does rend, O God that I ventring so hard a chaunce, Should loose my dice, before my hand be out, Tis euen so, in all things man intends The losse is ours, the winnings not our friends. For charity be briese, should the wind Turne his beake into the southerne side Our ship would leaue vs, dally not with griefe, Once and no more, let sorrow rule as chiefe. Then thus, and this the last, Moll, I take leaue yet on thy hersed selfe, Dead selfe, and selfe slaine. Moll dcest I am thy morning musike, call thee vp, To wedded rights, I leade thee to the Church, And there receiue thee, dine with thee at noone, Daunce all the after day, bring thee at night Into the wedding chamber, this is it. And here I leaue thee to thy virgen slumber, Neuer attempted, as thy birth bestowd, Madam beginning, take it in thy end, So liue thus die, onely my married friend, And nothing else, gone art thou to a power, Which will with welcomes take thee, left I am To the worlds crosse, thy father who inrag'd, Will bitterly reuenge thy death on me, But I will proue his martyr, se-thee Moll, Foole that I am to say so, here is all, Gownes, tire, all abilliments of thine, No rag shall rest remembrant in my viewe. To stirre the imbers of thy dying fire, I kisse thy key cold corse, and with this key, Lock thee for euer vp, farewell, farewell, My mouth the Church, my voice thy Parting knell. All cares that liue and heare This bell to toule, Christian-like bid peace vnto her soule.