Beaumont, Francis · published 1613 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 456 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I will have no great store of company at the wedding, a couple of neighbours and their wives, and we will have a Capon in stewed broth, with marrow, and a good piece of beef, stuck with rosemary. Forbear thy pains fond man, it is too late. Heaven bless me: Iasper? ay, I am his Ghost Whom thou hast injured for his constant love: Fond worldly wretch, who dost not understand In death that true hearts cannot parted be. First know thy daughter is quite borne away, On wings of Angels, through the liquid air, To far out of thy reach, and never more Shalt thou behold her face: But she and I Will in another world enjoy our loves, Where neither father's anger, poverty, Nor any cross that troubles earthly men Shall make us sever our united hearts. And never shalt thou sit, or be alone In any place, but I will visit thee With ghastly looks, and put into thy mind The great offences which thou didst to me. When thou art at thy Table with thy friends Merry in heart, and filled with swelling wine, I'll come in midst of all thy pride and mirth, Invisible to all men but thyself, And whisper such a sad tale in thine ear, Shall make thee let the Cup fall from thy hand, And stand as mute and pale as Death itself. Forgive me Iasper; Oh! what might I do? Tell me, to satisfy thy troubled Ghost? There is no means, too late thou thinkst of this. But tell me what were best for me to do? Repent thy deed, and satisfy my father, And beat fond Humphrey out of thy doors, Look George, his very Ghost would have folks beaten. Father, my bride is gone, fair mistress Luce, My soul's the fount of vengeance, mischiefs sluice. Hence fool out of my sight, with thy fond passion Thou hast undone me. Hold my father dear, For Luce thy daughter's sake, that had no peer. Thy father fool? there's some blows more, begone. Iasper, I hope thy Ghost be well appeased, To see thy will performed, now will I go To satisfy thy father for thy wrongs. What shall I do? I have been beaten twice, And mistress Luce is gone? help me device: Since my true-Love is gone, I never more, Whilst I do live, upon the sky will pore; But in the dark will wear out my shoe-soles In passion, in Saint faith's Church under Paul's. George call Rafe hither, if you love me call Rafe hither, I have the bravest thing for him to do George; prithee call him quickly. Rafe, Why Rafe boy. Here sir. Come hither Rafe, come to thy mistress boy.
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)
I will haue no great store of company at the wedding, a cupple of neighbours and their wiues, and wee will haue a Capon in stewed broth, with marrow, and a good peece of beefe, stucke with rose-mary. Forbeare thy paines fond man, it is too late. Heauen blesse me: Iasper? I, I am his Ghost Whom thou hast iniur'd for his constant loue: Fond worldly wretch, who dost not vnderstand In death that true hearts cannot parted be. First know thy daughter is quite borne away, On wings of Angels, through the liquid aire, To farre out of thy reach, and neuer more Shalt thou behold her face: But shee and I Will in another world enioy our loues, Where neither fathers anger, pouertie, Nor any crosse that troubles earthly men Shall make vs seuer our vnited hearts. And neuer shalt thou sit, or be alone In any place, but I will visit thee With gastly lookes, and put into thy minde The great offences wich thou didst to me. When thou art at thy Table with thy friends Merry in heart, aud fild with swelling wine, Il'e come in midst of all thy pride and mirth, Inuisible to all men but thy selfe, And whisper such a sad tale in thine eare, Shall make thee let the Cuppe fall from thy hand, And stand as mute and pale as Death it selfe. Forgiue me Iasper; Oh! what might I doe? Tell me, to satisfie thy trobled Ghost? There is no meanes, too late thou thinkst of this. But tell me what were best for me to doe? Repent thy deede, and satisfie my father, And beat fond Humphrey out of thy dores, Looke George, his very Ghost would haue folkes beaten. Father, my bride is gone, faire mistresse Luce, My soule's the fount of vengeance, mischiefes sluce. Hence foole out of my sight, with thy fond passion Thou hast vndone me. Hold my father deere, For Luce thy daughters sake, that had no peere. Thy father foole? there's some blows more, begone. Iasper, I hope thy Ghost bee well appeased, To see thy will performd, now will I go To satisfie thy father for thy wrongs. What shall I doe? I haue beene beaten twice, And mistresse Luce is gone? helpe me deuice: Since my true-loue is gone, I neuer more, Whilst I do liue, vpon the sky will pore; But in the darke will weare out my shooe-soles In passion, in Saint Faiths Church vnder Paules. George call Rafe hither, if you loue me call Rafe hither, I haue the brauest thing for him to do George; pre'thee call him quickly. Rafe, Why Rafe boy. Heere sir. Come hither Rafe, come to thy mistresse boy.