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 T1 Death, grief and revenge · 498 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Bear record all, you blessed Saints in heaven, I come not to torment thee in thy death: For of himself he's terrible enough, But call to mind a Lady like yourself. And think how ill in such a beauteous soul, Upon the instant morrow of her nuptials, Apostasy and wild revolt would show: With all imagine that she had a Lord, jealous, the Air should ravish her chaste looks: Doting like the creator in his models, Who views them every minute, and with care, Mixed in his fear of their obedience to him. Suppose he sung through famous Italy, More common than the looser songs of Petrarch: To every several Zany's instrument, And he poor wretch, hoping some better sat, Might call her back from her Adulterate purpose: Lives in obscure, and almost unknown life, Till hearing, that she is condemned to die: For he once loved her, lends his pined corpse, Motion to bring him to her stage of honour Where drowned in woe: at her so dismal chance, He clasps her: thus he falls into a trance. O my offended Lord lift up your eyes: But yet avert them from my loathed sight. Had I with you enjoyed the lawful pleasure, To which belongs, nor fear, nor public shame: I might have lived in honour, died in fame. Your pardon on my faltering knees I beg: Which shall confirm more peace unto my death, Than all the grave instructions of the Church. Pardon belongs unto my holy weeds, Freely thou hast it, farewell my Isabella. Let thy death ransom thy soul, O die a rare example, The kiss thou gav'st me in the church, here take, As I leave thee, so thou the world forsake. Rare accident, ill welcome noble Lord: madam: your executioner desires you to forgive him. Yes and give him too, what must I do my friend? madam: only tie up your hair. O these golden nets, That have ensnared so many wanton youths, Not one but has been held a thread of life, And superstitiously depended on, Now to the block, we must vail: what else? madam: I must entreat you blind your eyes. I have lived too long in darkness my friend: And yet mine eyes with their majestic light, Have got new Muses, in a poet's sprite. They have been more gazed at then the God of Day: Their brightness never could be flattered, Yet thou command'st a fixed cloud of Lawn, To Eclipse eternally these minutes of light. What else? Now madam: als done, And when you please, I'll execute my office. We will be for thee straight. Give me your blessing my Lord Cardinal: Lord, I am well prepared: Murder and lust, down with my ashes sink. But like ingrateful seed perish in earth, That you may never spring against my soul, Like weeds to choke it in the heavenly harvest, I fall to rise, mount to thy maker, spirit, Leave here thy body, death has her demerit.
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)
Beare record all, you blessed Saints in heau'n, I come not to torment thee in thy death: For of himselfe hee's terrible enough, But call to minde a Ladie like your selfe. And thinke how ill in such a beauteous soule, Vpon the instant morrow of her nuptials, Apostasie and vilde reuolt would shew: With all imagine that she had a Lord, Iealous, the Aire should rauish her chaste lookes: Doating like the creator in his models, Who viewes them euery minute, and with care, Mixt in his feare of their obedience to him. Suppose he sung through famous Italy, More common then the looser songs of Petrarch: To euery seuerall Zanies instrument, And he poore wretch, hoping some better sate, Might call her back from her Adulterate purpose: Liues in obscure, and almost vnknowne life, Till hearing, that she is condemn'd to die: For he once lou'd her, lends his pined corps, Motion to bring him to her stage of honour Where drown'd in woe: at her so dismall chance, He claspes her: thus he fals into a trance. O my offended Lord lift vp your eyes: But yet auert them from my loathed sight. Had I with you inioyed the lawfull pleasure, To which belongs, nor feare, nor publike shame: I might haue liu'd in honour, died in fame. Your pardon on my faultring knees I begge: Which shall confirme more peace vnto my death, Then all the graue instructions of the Church. Pardon belongs vnto my holy weeds, Freely thou hast it, farewell my Isabella. Let thy death ransome thy soule, O die a rare example, The kisse thou gau'st me in the church, here take, As I leaue thee, so thou the world forsake. Rare accident, ill welcome noble Lord: Madame: your executioner desires you to forgiue him. Yes and giue him too, what must I doe my friend? Madame: onely tie vp your haire. O these golden nets, That haue insnar'd so many wanton youthes, Not one but ha's beene held a thred of life, And superstitiously depended on, Now to the block, we must vaile: what else? Madame: I must intreat you blind your eyes. I haue liued too long in darknesse my friend: And yet mine eies with their maiesticque light, Haue got new Muses, in a Poets spright. They haue beene more gazed at then the God of Day: Their brightnes neuer could be flattered, Yet thou command'st a fixed cloud of Lawne, To Ecclipse eternally these minutes of light. What else? Now Madame: al's done, And when you please, I'le execute my office. We will be for thee straight. Giue me your blessing my Lord Cardinall: Lord, I am well prepar'd: Murder and lust, downe with my ashes sinke. But like ingratefull seede perish in earth, That you may neuer spring against my soule, Like weedes to choake it in the heauenly haruest, I fall to rise, mount to thy maker, spirit, Leaue here thy body, death ha's her demerit.