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 T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
By my troth, if I had been his judge, I should have hanged him for having no more wit, I speak as I think, for I would not be hanged for ne'er a man under the heavens. Faith, I think I should for my Husband. I do not hold the opinion of the Philosopher, that writes we love them best, that we enjoy first: for I protest I love my husband better than any that did know me before. So do I, yet life and pleasure are two sweet things to a woman. He that's willing to die to save mine honour, I'll die to save his. Tut: believe it who that list, we love a lively man I grant you: But to maintain that life, I'll ne'er consent to die. This is a rule I still will keep in breast, Love well thy husband wench, but thyself best. I have followed your counsel hitherto, and mean to do still. Come: we neglect our business, 'tis no jesting, Tomorrow they are executed lest we reprieve them, we be their destinies to cast their fate. Let's all go. I fear not to come late. Day was my night, and night must be my day: The sun shined on my pleasure, with my love, And darkness must lend aid to my revenge, The stage of heaven, is hung with solemn black, A time best fitting, to Act Tragedies, The night's great Queen, that maiden governess Musters black clouds, to hide her from the world, Afraid to look on my bold enterprise. Cursed creatures messengers of death, possess the world, Night-Ravens, screech-owls, and vote-killing Mandrakes, The ghosts of misers, that imprisoned gold, Within the harmless bowels of the earth, Are nights companions: bawds to lust and murder, Be all propitious to my Act of justice: Upon the scandalisers of her fame, That is the lifeblood of deliciousness, Deemed Isabella, Cupid's Treasurer. Whose soul contains the richest gifts of love: Her beauty from my heart, fear doth expel; They relish pleasure best, that dread not hell. Who's there? A friend to thee, if thy intents be just & honourable. Count Rogero, speak, I am the watch. My name is Rogero: dost thou know me? Yes slanderous villain, nurse of Obloquy, Whose poisoned breath, has speckled clear fac't virtue, And made a Leper of Isabella's fame, That is as spotless, as the eye of heaven. Thy vital threads a cutting, start not slave, he's sure of sudden death, heaven cannot save. Art not Guiaca turned Apostata, has pleasure once again Turned thee again a devil, art not Guiaca? hah! O that I were, then would I stab myself, For he is marked for death, as well as thee: I am Don Sago thy mortal enemy, Whose hand love makes thy executioner. I know thee valiant Spaniard, and to thee Murders more hateful, then is sacrilege Thy actions ever have been honourable.
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)
By my troth, if I had beene his iudge, I should haue hang'd him for hauing no more wit, I speake as I thinke, for I would not be hang'd for ne'er a man vnder the heau'ns. Faith, I thinke I should for my Husband. I doe not hold the opinion of the Philosopher, that writes we loue them best, that we inioy first: for I protest I loue my husband better then any that did know me before. So doe I, yet life and pleasure are two sweet things to a woman. He that's willing to die to saue mine honor, I'le die to saue his. Tut: beleeue it who that list, wee loue a liuely man I grant you: But to maintaine that life, I'le ne're consent to die. This is a rule I still will keepe in brest, Loue well thy husband wench, but thy selfe best. I haue followed your counsell hetherto, and meane to doe still. Come: we neglect our businesse, 'tis no iesting, To morrow they are executed leasse we reprieue them, Wee be their destinies to cast their fate. Let's all goe. I feare not to come late. Day was my night, and night must be my day: The sunne shin'd on my pleasure, with my lone, And darknesse must lend aide to my reuenge, The stage of heau'n, is hung with solemne black, A time best fitting, to Act Tragedies, The nights great Queene, that maiden gouernesse Musters black clouds, to hide her from the world, Afraide to looke on my bold enterprise. Curs'd creatures messengers of death, possesse the world, Night-Rauens, scritch-owles, and vote-killing Mandrakes, The ghosts of misers, that imprison'd gold, Within the harmelesse bowels of the earth, Are nights companions: bawdes to lust and murder, Be all propitious to my Act of iustice: Vpon the scandalizers of her fame, That is the life-blood of deliciousnesse▪ Deem'd Isabella, Cupids Treasurer. Whose soule containes the richest gifts of loue: Her beautie from my heart, feare doth expell; They rellish pleasure best, that dread not hell. Who's there? A friend to thee, if thy intents be iust & honorable. Count Rogero, speake, I am the watch. My name is Rogero: do'st thou know me? Yes slanderous villen, nurse of Obloquie, Whose poison'd breath, ha's speckl'd cleare fac't vertue, And made a Leper of Isabella's fame, That is as spotlesse, as the eye of heau'n. Thy vitall threds a cutting, start not slaue, Hee's sure of sudden death, heau'n cannot saue. Art not Guiaca turn'd Apostata, ha's pleasure once againe Turn'd thee againe a diuell, art not Guiaca? hah! O that I were, then would I stab my selfe, For he is mark't for death, as well as thee: I am Don Sago thy mortall enemie, Whose hand loue makes thy executioner. I know thee valiant Spaniard, and to thee Murders more hatefull, then is sacrilege Thy actions euer haue been honourable.