Dekker, Thomas / Massinger, Philip · published 1622 · first performed or written 1620 [licensed for stage, Oct 6; revised and re-licensed for stage, Jul 7, 1624] (Annals) tragedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
To me it shall not. I'll be no subject to the greatest Caesar Was ever crowned with Laurel, rather than cease To be a father. Silence sit, he wakes. Thou kill'st me Dorothea, oh Dorothea. she's here; I enjoy her. Where, Why do you mock me, Age on my head hath stuck no white hairs yet, Yet I'm an old man, a fond doting fool Upon a woman, I to buy her beauty, (Truth I am bewitched) offer my life, And she for my acquaintance hazards hers, Yet for our equal sufferings, none holds out A hand of pity. Let him have some Music. Hell on your fiddling. Take again your bed Sir, Sleep is a sovereign Physic. Take an ass's head Sir, Confusion on your fooleries, your charms, Thou stinking Glister-pipe, where's the god of rest, Thy Pills, and base Apothecary drugs Threatened to bring unto me, out you Impostors, Quacksaluing, cheating mountebanks, your skill Is to make sound men sick, and sick men kill. O be yourself dear friend. myself Macrunis How can I be myself, when I am mangled Into a thousand pieces, here moves my head, But where's my heart? wherever, that lies dead. Follow me thou damned sorcerers, call up thy spirits, And if they can, now let 'em from my hand Untwine these witching hairs. I am that spirit, Or if I be not (were you not my father) One made of Iron should how that hand in pieces That so defaces this sweet Monument Of my love's beauty? Art thou sick? To death. Wouldst thou recover? Would I live in bliss? And do thine eyes shoot daggers at that man That brings thee health? It is not in the world? Is't here? Oh Treasure, by enchantment locked In Caves as deep as hell, am I as near. Break that enchanted Caut, enter, and rifle The spoils thy lust hunts after, I descend To a base office, and become thy Pandar In bringing thee this proud Thing, make her thy Whore, Thy health lies here if she deny to give it, Force it, imagine thou assault'st a town, Weak wall, to't, 'tis thine own, beat but this down, Come, and unseen, be witness to this battery, How the coy strumpet yields. Shall the boy stay sir. No matter for the boy, Pages are used to these odd bawdy Shufflings, and indeed are those Little young snakes in a Fury's head Will sting worse than the great ones, Let the Pimp stay. Oh guard me Angels, What Tragedy must begin now? When a Tiger Leaps into a timorous herd, with ravenous jaws Being hunger-starved, what Tragedy then begins? Death I am happy so, you hitherto Have still had goodness spared within your eyes, Let not that Orb be broken. Fear not Mistress, If he dare offer violence, we two Are strong enough for such a sickly man.
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)
To me it shall not. Ile be no subiect to the greatest Caesar Was euer crown'd with Lawrell, rather then cease To be a father. Silence sit, he wakes. Thou kilst me Dorothea, oh Dorothea. Shees heere; I enioy her. Where, Why doe you mooke me, Age on my head hath stuck no white haires yet, Yet I'me an old man, a fond doting foole Vpon a woman, I to buy her beauty, (Truth I am bewitched) offer my life, And she for my acquaintance hazirds hers, Yet for our equall suffrings, none holds out A hand of pitty. Let him haue some Musicke. Hell on your fidling. Take againe your bed Sir, Sleepe is a soueraigne Physicke. Take an Asses head Sir, Confusion on your fooleries, your charmes, Thou stinking Glister-pipe, where's the god of rest, Thy Pills, and base Apothecary drugges Threatned to bring vnto me, out you Impostors, Quacksaluing, cheating Mountbankes, your skill Is to make sound men sicke, and sicke men kill. O be your selfe deare friend. My selfe Macrunis How can I be my selfe, when I am mangled Into a thousand peeces, heere moues my head, But wheres my heart? where euer, that lies dead. Follow me thou damn'd Sorcores, call vp thy spirits, 'And if they can, now let 'em from my hand Vntwine these witching haires. I am that spirit, Or if I be not (were you not my father) One made of Iron should how that hand in peeces That so defaees this sweete Monument Of my loues beauty? Art thou sioke? To death. Wouldst thou recouer? Would I liue in blisse? And doe thine eyes shoote daggers at that man That brings thee health? It is not in the world? Ist heere? Oh Treasure, by enchantment lock'd In Caues as deepe as hell, am I as neere. Breake that enchanted Caut, enter, and rifle The spoyles thy lust hunts after, I deseend To a base office, and become thy Pandar In bringing thee this proud Thing, make her thy Whore, Thy health lies heere if she deny to giue it, Force it, imagine thou assaultst a towne, Weake wall, too't, tis thine owne, beat but this downe, Come, and vn seene, be witnesse to this battry, How the coy strumpet yeelds. Shall the boy stay sir. No matter for the boy, Pages are vs'd to these odde bawdy Shufflings, and indeede are those Little yong snakes in a Furies head Will sting worse then the great ones, Let the Pimpe stay. Oh guard me Angels, What Tragedy must begin now? When a Tyger Leapes into a tymerous heard, with rauenous Iawes Being hunger-staru'd, what Tragedy then begins? Death I am happy so, you hitherto Haue still had goodnes spard within your eyes, Let not that Orbe be broken. Feare not Mistresse, If he dare offer violence, we two Are strong enough for such a sickly man.