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 T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Dear Love into my chamber, till I send My hate from sight. Lust makes me wrong my friend. Anna, stand here, and entertain Lord Rogero. I from my window straight will give him answer. The serpent's wit to woman rest in me, By that man fell, then why not he by me? Feigned sighs and tears dropped from a woman's eye, Blinds man of reason, strikes his knowledge dumb: Wit arms a woman, Count Rogero come. My office still is under: yet in time Ushers prove Masters, degrees makes us climb. Who knocks? is't you my noble Lord? Came my friend hither, Count Guiaca? No, my good Lord. Where's my Isabella? In her Chamber. Good: I'll visit her. The chamber's locked my Lord: she will be private. Locked against me, my saucy malapert? Be patient good my Lord: she'll give you answer. Isabella life of love, speak, 'tis I that calls. I must desire your Lordship pardon me. Lordship? what's this? Isabella, art thou blind? My Lord, my lust was blind, but now my soul's clear sighted, And sees the spots that did corrupt my flesh: Those tokens sent from hell, brought by desire, The messenger of everlasting death. My Lady's in her Pulpit, now she'll preach. Is not thy Lady mad? in verity I always Took her for a Puritan, and now she shows it. Mock not Repentance. Profanation Brings mortals laughing to damnation. Believe it Lord, Isabella's ill past life, Like gold refined, shall make a perfect Wife. I stand on firm ground now, before on Ice; We know not virtue till we taste of vice. Do you hear dissimulation, woman sinner? Leave my house good my Lord, and for my part, I look for a most wished reconciliation Betwixt myself and my most wronged Husband. Tempt not contrition then religious Lord. Indeed I was one of your family once: But do not I know these are but brain-tricks: And where the Devil has the Fee-simple, he will keep possession. And will you halt before me that yourself has made a cripple? Nay, than you wrong me: and disdained Lord, I paid thee for thy pleasures vendible. Whose mercenary flesh I bought with coin, I will divulge thy baseness, 'less with speed Thou leave my house and my society. Already turned apostate, but now all pure, Now damned your faith is, and loves endure Like dew upon the grass, when pleasures Sun Shines on your virtues, all your virtue's done. I'll leave thy house and thee, go get thee in, Thou gaudy child of pride, and nurse of sin. Rail not on me my Lord; for if you do, My hot desire of vengeance shall strike wonder; Revenge in woman falls like dreadful thunder. Your Lordship will command me no further service? I thank thee for thy watchful service passed; Thy usher-like attendance on the Stairs, Being true signs of thy Humility.
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Deare Loue into my chamber, till I send My hate from sight. Lust makes me wrong my friend. Anna, stand here, and entertaine Lord Rogero. I from my window straight will giue him answere. The Serpents vvit to woman rest in me, By that man fell, then vvhy not he by me? Fain'd sighes and teares dropt from a womans eye, Blindes man of reason, strikes his knowledge dumbe: Wit armes a vvoman, Count Rogero come. My office still is vnder: yet in time Vshers proue Masters, degrees makes vs climbe. Who knockes? is't you my noble Lord? Came my friend hither, Count Gniaca? No, my good Lord. Where's my Isabella? In her Chamber. Good: Ile visit her. The chamber's lockt my Lord: shee will be priuate. Lockt against me, my sawcy mallapert? Be patient good my Lord: shee'll giue you answere. Isabella life of loue, speake, 'tis I that cals. I must desire your Lordship pardon me. Lordship? what's this? Isabella, art thou blinde? My Lord, my lust was blinde, but now my soule's cleare sighted, And sees the spots that did corrupt my flesh: Those tokens sent from hell, brought by desire, The messenger of euerlasting death. My Lady's in her Pulpit, now shee'll preach. Is not thy Lady mad? in veritie I alwayes Tooke her for a Puritane, and now shee shewes it. Mocke not Repentance. Prophanation Brings mortals laughing to damnation. Beleeue it Lord, Isabella's ill past life, Like gold refin'd, shall make a perfect Wife. I stand on firme ground now, before on Ice; We know not vertue till wee taste of vice. Doe you heare dissimulation, woman sinner? Leaue my house good my Lord, and for my part, I looke for a most vvisht reconciliation Betwixt my selfe and my most wronged Husband. Tempt not contrition then religious Lord. Indeede I vvas one of your familie once: But doe not I know these are but braine-trickes: And where the Diuell has the Fee-simple, he will keep possession. And will you halt before me that your selfe has made a criple? Nay, then you wrong me: and disdained Lord, I paid thee for thy pleasures vendible. Whose mercenary flesh I bought with coyne, I vvill diuulge thy basenesse, 'lesse vvith speede Thou leaue my house and my societie. Already turn'd apostate, but now all pure, Now damn'd your faith is, and loues endure Like dewe vpon the grasse, when pleasures Sunne Shines on your vertues, all your vertue's done. Ile leaue thy house and thee, goe get thee in, Thou gaudy childe of pride, and nurse of sinne. Raile not on me my Lord; for if you doe, My hot desire of vengeance shall strike wonder; Reuenge in woman fals like dreadfull thunder. Your Lordship will command me no further seruice? I thanke thee for thy vvatchfull seruice past; Thy vsher-like attendance on the Staires, Being true signes of thy Humilitie.