Chapman, George · published 1612 · first performed or written 1604 [1604-1605] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars T57 Ships, merchants and pirates typicality 0.72 · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T57: ship, sea, master, sail, home, money, pisaro, life, ships, till.
Good Soldier do not stir her, she's weak, and quickly seized with swooning and passions, and with much trouble shall we both recall her fainting spirits. Five days thus hath she wasted; and not once seasoned her palate with the taste of meat; her powers of life are spent; and what remains of her famished spirit, serves not to breathe but sigh. She hath exiled her eyes from steep, or sight, and given them wholly up to ceaseless tears over that ruthful hearse of her dear Spouse, slain by Bantditos, Nobly borne Lysander. And hopes she with these heavy notes and cries to call him from the dead? in these five days hath she but made him stir a finger or fetch one gasp of that forsaken life she mourns? Come, honoured Mistress; I admire your virtues; But must reprove this vain excess of moan; Rouse yourself Lady, and look up from death, Well said, 'tis well; stay by my hand and rise. This Face hath been maintained with better housewifery. What are you? Lady, I am Sentinel, Set in this hallowed place, to watch and guard On forfeit of my life, these monuments From Rape, and spoiled of sacrilegious hands, And save the bodies, that without you see Of crucified offenders; that no friends May bear them hence, to honoured burial. Thou seem'st an honest Soldier; pray thee then Be as thou seem'st; betake thee to thy charge And leave this place; add not affliction To the afflicted. You misname the children. For what you term affliction now, in you Is but self-humour; voluntary Penance Imposed upon yourself: and you lament As did the Satire once, that ran affrighted From that horns sound that he himself had winded. Which humour to abate, my counsel tending your termed affliction, What I for Physic give, you take for poison. I tell you honoured Mistress, these ingredients Are wholesome, though perhaps they seem untoothsome. This Soldier sure, is some decayed pothecary. Dear Ghost be wise, and pity your fair self Thus, by yourself unnaturally afflicted: Chide back, heartbreaking groans, clear up those lamps, Restore them to their first creation: Windows for light; not sluices made for tears. Beat not the senseless air with needless cries, Baneful to life, and bootless to the dead. This is the Inn, where all Deucalion's race Sooner or later, must take up their lodging; No privilege can free us from this prison; No tears, no prayers, can redeem from hence A captived soul; Make use of what you see: Let this affrighting spectacle of death Teach you to nourish life. Good hear him: this is a rare Soldier. Say that with abstinence you should unloose the knot of life: Suppose that in this Tomb for your dear Spouse, you should entomb yourself a living Corpse; Say that before your hour without due Summons from the Fates, you send your hasty soul to hell: can your dear Spouse take notice of your faith and constancy? Shall your dear Spouse revive to give you thanks?
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T46 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Good Souldier doe not stirre her, Shee's weake, and quickly seiz'd with swowning and passions, and with much trouble shall we both recall her fainting spirits. Fiue daies thus hath shee wasted; and not once season'd her Pallate with the tast of meate; her powers of life are spent; and what remaines of her famisht spirit, serues not to breath but sigh. Shee hath exil'd her eies from steepe, or sight, and giuen them wholly vp to ceaselesse teares ouer that ruthfull herse of her deare Spouse, slaine by Bantditos, Nobly borne Lysander. And hopes shee with these heauie notes and cries to call him from the dead? in these fiue daies hath shee but made him stirre a finger or fetch one gasp of that forsaken life shee mournes? Come, honour'd Mistris; I admire your vertues; But must reproue this vaine excesse of mone; Rowse your selfe Ladie, and looke vp from death, Well said, tis well; stay by my hand and rise. This Face hath beene maintain'd with better huswiferie. What are you? Ladie, I am Sentinell, Set in this hallowed place, to watch and guard On forfait of my life, these monuments From Rape, and spoil'd of sacrilegious handes, And saue the bodies, that without you see Of crucified offenders; that no friends May beare them hence, to honour'd buriall. Thou seem'st an honest Souldier; pray thee then Be as thou seem'st; betake thee to thy charge And leaue this place; adde not affliction To the afflicted. You misname the children. For what you terme affliction now, in you Is but selfe-humour; voluntarie Penance Impos'd vpon your selfe: and you lament As did the Satyre once, that ran affrighted From that hornes sound that he himselfe had winded. Which humor to abate, my counsaile tending your term'd affliction, What I for Phisicke giue, you take for poison. I tell you honour'd Mistris, these ingredients Are wholesome, though perhaps they seeme vntoothsome. This Souldier sure, is some decai'd pothecarie. Deere Ghost be wise, and pittie your faire selfe Thus, by your selfe vnnaturally afflicted: Chide back, heart-breaking grones, clear vp those lamps, Restore them to their first creation: Windowes for light; not sluces made for teares. Beate not the senselesse aire with needlesse cries, Banefull to life, and bootlesse to the dead. This is the Inne, where all Deucalions race Sooner or later, must take vp their lodging; No priuiledge can free vs from this prison; No teares, no praiers, can redeeme from hence A captiu'd soule; Make vse of what you see: Let this affrighting spectacle of death Teach you to nourish life. Good heare him: this is a rare Souldier. Say that with abstinence you should vnlose the knot of life: Suppose that in this Tombe for your deare Spouse, you should entomb your selfe a liuing Corse; Say that before your houre without due Summons from the Fates, you send your hastie soule to hell: can your deare Spouse take notice of your faith and constancie? Shall your deare Spouse reuiue to giue you thankes?