Marston, John / Machin, Lewis / Barkstead, William · published 1613 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1607-1608; revised 1609-1613] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels (?); Children of the King's Revels (?) · Whitefriars unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Thou more than man, love-wounded: joy and grief fight in my blood. Thy wounds and constancy Are both so strong none can have victory. Darken the world, earths-queen, get thee to bed; The earth is light while those two Stars are spread: Their splendour will betray me to men's eyes. vail thy bright face: for if thou longer stay, Phoebus will rise to thee, and make night day. To part and leave you hurt my soul doth fear. To part from hence I cannot, you being there. we'll move together, than Fate Love controls, And as we part so bodies part from souls. Mine is the earth, thine the refined fire: I am mortal, thou divine, than soul mount higher. Why then take comfort sweet, I'll see'ou tomorrow. My wounds are nothing, thy loss breeds my sorrow. See now 'tis dark. Support your Master, legs, a little further: Faint not bold heart with anguish of my wound: Try further yet, can blood weigh down my soul? Desire is vain without ability. Thus falls a Monarch, if Fate push at him. Come on my hearts, we are the City's security, I'll give you your charge, and then like Courtiers every man spy out: let no man in my company be afraid to speak to a Cloak lined with Velvet, nor tremble at the sound of a jingling Spur. May I never be counted a cock of the game, if I fear Spurs: but be gelded like a Capon for the preserving of my voice. I'll have none of my Band refrain to search a venerial house, though his wife's sister be a lodger there: nor take two shillings of the Bawd to save the gentlemen's credits that are aloft: and so like voluntary Panders leave them, to the shame of all Halberdiers. Nay, for the Wenches, we'll tickle them, that's flat. If you meet a Shevoiliero, that's in the gross phrase, a Knight, that swaggers in the street, and being taken, has no money in his Purse to pay for his fees; it shall be a part of your duty to entreat me to let him go. O marvelous his there such Chevaliers? Some 200. that's the least, that are revealed. What groan is that? bring a light. Who lies there? It is the Lord Mendosa, kinsman to our Duke. Speak good my Lord, relate your dire mischance: Life like a fearful servant flies his Master, Art must atone them, or'th' whole man is lost. Convey him to a surgeon's, than return: No place shall be unsearched until we find The truth of this mischance. Make haste again. Whose house is this stands open? in, and search. What guests that house contains, and bring them forth. This Nobleman's misfortune stirs my quiet, And fills my soul with fearful fantasies. But I'll unwind this Labyrinth of doubt, Else industry shall lose part of itself's labour. Who have we there? Signiors cannot you tell us How our PRINCE's kinsman came wounded to the death Nigh to your houses.
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)
Thou more then man, loue-wounded: ioy and griefe fight in my bloud. Thy wounds and constancie Are both so strong none can haue victory. Darken the world, earths-Queene, get thee to bed; The earth is light while those two Starres are spread: Their splendor will betray me to mens eyes. Vaile thy bright face: for if thou longer stay, Phoebus will rise to thee, and make night day. To part and leaue you hurt my soule doth feare. To part from hence I cannot, you being there. Wee'll moue together, then Fate Loue controules, And as we part so bodies part from soules. Mine is the earth, thine the refined fire: I am mortall, thou diuine, then soule mount higher. Why then take comfort sweet, Ile see'ou to morrow. My wounds are nothing, thy losse breedes my sorrow. See now'tis darke. Support your Master, legges, a little further: Faint not bolde heart with anguish of my wound: Try further yet, can bloud weigh downe my soule? Desire is vaine without abilitie. Thus fals a Monarch, if Fate push at him. Come on my hearts, we are the Cities securitie, Ile giue you your charge, and then like Courtiers euery man spye out: let no man in my company be afraid to speake to a Cloake lined with Veluet, nor tremble at the sound of a gingling Spurre. May I neuer be counted a cock of the game, if I feare Spurres: but be gelded like a Capon for the preseruing of my voyce. Ile haue none of my Band refraine to search a veneriall house, though his Wifes sister be a lodger there: nor take two shillings of the Bawd to saue the Gentlemens credits that are aloft: and so like voluntary Pandars leaue them, to the shame of all Halbardiers. Nay, for the Wenches, wee'll tickle them, that's flat. If you meete a Sheuoiliero, that's in the grosse phrase, a Knight, that swaggers in the streete, and being taken, has no money in his Purse to pay for his fees; it shall be a part of your duty to entreate me to let him goe. O meruailous his there such Sheuoiliers? Some 200. that's the least, that are reueal'd. What groane is that? bring a light. Who lyes there? It is the Lord Mendosa, kinsman to our Duke. Speake good my Lord, relate your dire mischance: Life like a fearefull seruant flyes his Master, Art must attone them, or'th' whole man is lost. Conuay him to a Surgeons, then returne: No place shall be vnsearch'd vntill we finde The truth of this mischance. Make haste againe. Whose house is this stands open? in, and search. What guests that house containes, and bring them forth. This Noble-mans misfortune stirs my quiet, And fils my soule with fearefull fantasies. But Ile vnwinde this Labyrinth of doubt, Else industry shall lose part of it selfes labour. Who haue we there? Signiors cannot you tell vs How our Princes kinsman came wounded to the death Nigh to your houses.