S., S. · published 1616 · first performed or written 1615 [c.1614-1615] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Wilt thou be a fool of fate? who can Prevent the destiny decreed for man? I'll on. So will not I. Good Coz, I leave you to your destiny. The next news I hear, the Lawyer's a dead man. Dreams quoth 'a! and he will not believe a dream, he's an Infidel. One night I dreamt that I found gold at a play. Next day I came thither, flattered with these hopes. Zlid, before the Prologue had done, I had lost my purse. Coz if you ha'no faith in dreams, farewell. I would not dream of heaven, lest I find hell. This charm has cast him off, now to my mortgage. Oh Vaster, thou art dead; thy hapless issue, Exposed to the bleak air of these cold times. I have no means to expiate the wrongs, My cruel Father, and myself more bloody, Have done thee, but by charity to thine, All the poor pieces that remain of thee. So with the plasters of our broken good, We hide the wounds, first having shed the blood. Within there Hoh. Thou com'st upon thy death, infectious issue of the world's plague; if thy blood stained foot enter these doors. Our parents are from home. Till their return, I'll keep possession. Or lose it with my life. Incensed Youth. Thou fightest 'gainst power with a sword of straw: As good cope with the devil, as with the Law. methinks, Sir, there should dwell some pity in your look. Oh, cast an eye of mercy on the woes, Of two most wretched Orphans; doubly lost, First in their parents' miseries: but, oh! most In their untimely deaths; for we doubt sore, We never shall behold their faces more. My grief requites you both. No matter, had it so pleased the high powers, If that my Father had excused yours. Good Sir, forget your strength; and do not triumph over the prostrate fortunes of two wretches, Exposed to unresisted tyranny. Behold a Maiden begging on her knee— Rise: that's heavens due. These arms now thee intwine, That wish for ever, to be called thine: A strange new influence runs through my affections, Into my panting heart; and there enthroned, Commands my lower faculties to love This poor distressed Virgin. I am flamed With pity and affection; whether more! Yet let my senses some cool reason gather: What, love the daughter, and have slain the father? (I must: heaven knows I must). See, my loved friends: My coming to you is for other ends. My Father sent me to invade your lands. A while stand free redeemed with my hands. There's money to relieve you: that done, you shall have more. Despair not: heaven will not forsake the poor. Right noble son of so professed a foe, Heaven be as kind to you, as you t' our woe. I burst, if I contain my passion. Fairest Virgin, If thou dar'st credit me, I love thee.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Wilt thou be a foole of fate? who can Preuent the deſtinie decreed for man? Ile on. So will not I. Good Coz, I leaue you to your deſtinie. The next newes I heare, the Lawyer's a dead man. Dreames quoth a! and he will not beleeue a dreame, he's an Infidell. One night I dream't that I found gold at a play. Next day I came thither, ſlatter'd with theſe hopes. Zlid, before the Prologue had done, I had loſt my purſe. Coz▪ if you ha'no faith in dreames, farewell. I would not dreame of heauen, leſt I find hell. This charme has caſt him off, now to my morgage. Oh Vaster, thou art dead; thy hapleſſe iſſue, Expos'd to the bleake ayre of theſe cold times. I haue no meanes to expiate the wrongs, My cruell Father, and my ſelfe more bloudy, Haue done thee, but by charitie to thine, All the poore pieces that remaine of thee. So with the plaiſters of our broken good, We hide the wounds, firſt hauing ſhed the bloud. Within there Hoh. Thou com'ſt vpon thy death, infectious iſſue of the worlds plague; if thy bloud ſtained foote enter theſe dores. Our parents are from home. Till their returne, Ile keepe poſſeſsion. Or loſe it with my life. Incenſed Youth. Thou fight'ſt 'gainſt power with a ſword of ſtraw: As good cope with the diuell, as with the Law. Me thinks, Sir, there ſhould dwell ſome pittie in your looke. Oh, caſt an eye of mercie on the woes, Of two moſt wretched Orphans; doubly loſt, Firſt in their Parents miſeries: but, oh! moſt In their vntimely deaths; for we doubt ſore, We neuer ſhall behold their faces more. My griefe requites you both. No matter, had it ſo pleas'd the high powers, If that my Father had excuſed yours. Good Sir, forget your ſtrength; and do not triumph ouer the proſtrate fortunes of two wretches, Expos'd to vnreſiſted tyrannie. Behold a Mayden begging on her knee— Riſe: that's heauens due. Theſe armes now thee intwine, That wiſh for euer, to be called thine: A ſtrange new influence runs through my affections, Into my panting heart; and there inthron'd, Commands my lower faculties to loue This poore diſtreſſed Virgin. I am flam'd With pittie and affection; whether more! Yet let my ſenſes ſome coole reaſon gather: What, loue the daughter, and haue ſlaine the father? (I muſt: heauen knowes I muſt). See, my lov'd friends: My comming to you is for other ends. My Father ſent me to inuade your lands. A while ſtand free redeemed with my hands. There's money to relieue you: that done, you ſhall haue more. Deſpaire not: heauen will not forſake the poore. Right noble ſonne of ſo profeſt a foe, Heauen be as kinde to you, as you t' our woe. I burſt, if I containe my paſsion. Faireſt Virgin, If thou dar'ſt credite me, I loue thee.