Webster, John · published 1623 · first performed or written 1614 [1612-1614; revised 1617-23(?)] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Thou art a fool then, To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched As cannot pity it: I am full of daggers: Puff: let me blow these vipers from one. What are you? One that wishes you long life. I would thou wert hanged for the horrible curse Thou hast given me: I shall shortly grow one Of the miracles of pity: I'll go pray: No, I'll go curse: Oh fie: I could curse the Stars. Oh fearful: And those three smiling seasons of the year Into a Russian winter: nay the world To its first Chaos. Look you, the Stars shine still: Oh, but you must remember, my curse hath a great way to go: Plagues, (that make lanes through largest families) Consume them: Fie Lady: Let them like tyrants Never be remembered, but for the ill they have done: Let all the zealous prayers of mortified Churchmen forget them, O uncharitable: Let heaven, a little while, cease crowning Martyrs To punish them: Go, howl them this: and say I long to bleed It is some mercy, when men kill with speed. Excellent; as I would wish: she's plagued in Art. These presentations are but framed in wax. By the curious Master in that Quality, Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them For true substantial Bodies. Why do you do this? To bring her to despair. 'Faith, end here: And go no farther in your cruelty, Send her a penitential garment, to put on, Next to her delicate skin, and furnish her With beads, and prayer books. Damn her, that body of hers, While that my blood ran pure in't, was more worth Then, that which thou wouldst comfort, (called a soul) I will send her masques of common Courtesans, Have her meat served up by bawds, and ruffians, And ('cause she'll needs be mad) I am resolved To remove forth the common Hospital, All the mad-folk, and place them near her lodging: There let them practise together, sing, and dance, And act their gambols to the full o'th' moon: If she can sleep the better for it, let her, Your work is almost ended. Must I see her again? Yes. Never. You must. Never in mine own shape, That's forfeited, by my intelligence, And this last cruel lie: when you send me next, The business shallbe comfort. Very likely, Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee: Antonio, Lurks about Milan, thou shalt shortly thither, To feed a fire, as great as my revenge, Which ne'er will slack, till it have spent his fuel, " Intemperate agues, make Physicians cruel. What hideous noise was that? Of Madmen (Lady) which your Tyrant brother Hath placed about your lodging: This tyranny, I think was never practised till this hour. Indeed I thank him: nothing but noise, and folly Can keep me in my right wits, whereas reason And silence, make me stark mad: Sit down, Discourse to me some dismal Tragedy.
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)
Thou art a foole then, To wast thy pitty on a thing so wretch'd As cannot pitty it: I am full of daggers: Puffe: let me blow these vipers from one. What are you? One that wishes you long life. I would thou wert hang'd for the horrible curse Thou hast giuen me: I shall shortly grow one Of the miracles of pitty: I'll goe pray: No, I'll goe curse: Oh fye: I could curse the Starres. Oh fearefull: And those three smyling seasons of the yeere Into a Russian winter: nay the world To its first Chaos. Looke you, the Starres shine still: Oh, but you must remember, my curse hath a great way to goe: Plagues, (that make lanes through largest families) Consume them: Fye Lady: Let them like tyrants Neuer be remembred, but for the ill they haue done: Let all the zealous prayers of mortefied Church-men forget them, O vncharitable: Let heauen, a little while, cease crowning Martirs To punish them: Goe, howle them this: and say I long to bleed ,,It is some mercy, when men kill with speed. Excellent; as I would wish: she's plagu'd in Art. These presentations are but fram'd in wax. By the curious Master in that Qualitie, Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them For true substantiall Bodies. Why doe you doe this? To bring her to despaire. 'Faith, end here: And go no farther in your cruelty, Send her a penetentiall garment, to put on, Next to her delicate skinne, and furnish her With beades, and prayer bookes. Damne her, that body of hers, While that my blood ran pure in't, was more worth Then, that which thou wouldst comfort, (call'd a soule) I will send her masques of common Curtizans, Haue her meate seru'd vp by baudes, and ruffians, And ('cause she'll needes be mad) I am resolu'd To remoue forth the common Hospitall, All the mad-folke, and place them neere her lodging: There let them practise together, sing, and daunce, And act their gambols to the full o'th'moone: If she can sleepe the better for it, let her, Your worke is almost ended. Must I see her againe? Yes. Neuer. You must. Neuer in mine owne shape, That's forfeited, by my intelligence, And this last cruell lie: when you send me next, The businesse shalbe comfort. Very likely, Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee: Antonio, Lurkes about Millaine, thou shalt shortly thither, To feede a fire, as great as my reuenge, Which neu'r will slacke, till it haue spent his fuell, "Intemperate agues, make Physitians cruell. Wha oyse was that? Of Mad-men (Lady) which your Tyrant brother Hath plac'd about your lodging: This tyranny, I thinke was neuer practis'd till this howre. Indeed I thanke him: nothing but noyce, and folly Can keepe me in my right wits, whereas reason And silence, make me starke mad: Sit downe, Discourse to me some dismall Tragedy.