Randolph, Thomas · published 1632 · first performed or written 1632 [Mar 20] (Annals) comedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Health to the fair Evadne. Is any left so courteous to wish health To the distressed Evadne? Pamphilus? Is my Techmessa here? Now all the Gods Preserve her hence, there is in hell more safety Among the Furies— Mischief built this house For all her family. Gentle Pamphilus, See me delivered from this jail, this dungeon, This horrid vault of lust. TAke comfort, Lady. Your honour stands safe on his guard, while I Can use a sword. You have confirmed me, Sir. How close they wind, like glutinous snakes engendering, Well sister, I shall study to requite This courteous treachery. Pamphilus, in me All stars conspire to make affliction perfect. Wait on heaven's pleasure, Madam: such a one The heavens ne'er made for misery, they but give you These crosses as sharp sauce to whet your appetite For some choice banquet. Or they mean to lead you Through a vault dark and obscure as hell, To make your paradise a sweeter prospect. Thus I feed Others with hopes, while mine own wounds do bleed. WHy should we toil thus in an endless search Of what we now behold?— Let us grow wise, I loathe false Pamphilus— yet I could have loved him: And if he were but faithful, could do still. Sure were Evadne false, yet Pamphilus Would not be made the instrument to wrong me. Or suppose Pamphilus were a treacherous brother; methinks Evadne should be kinder to me. Techmessa join with me in one search more, Ballio. O Ballio, 'tis in you and dear Asotus To make two wretches happy. Then be happy. ' I'll make you two joint heirs of my estate, And you shall give it out: we two are dead By our own hands. And bear us both this night To church in coffins. Whence we'll make escape, And bid farewell to Thebes. Would you not both Be buried in one coffin? then the grave Would have her tenants multiply:— hear you Tutor, Shall not we be suspected for the murder, And choke with a hempen squincy? To secure you, We'll write before what we intend to act: Our hands shall witness with your innocence. Well: Come the worst, I'll venture;— and perchance You shall not die in jest again o'th' sudden. What strange Maeanders Cupid leads us through! When most we forward go, we backward move. There is no path so intricate as Love! CArry these letters unto Chremylus' house. Give this to Pamphilus, to Evadne that, And certify 'em of this sad event. It will draw tears from theirs— As from my eyes, Because they are not real obsequies. So great my grief, so dolorous my disaster, I know not in what language to express it, Unless I should be dumb!— Sob— sob Asotus, Sob till thy buttons break, and crack thy bandstrings With lamentation, and distressed condoling, With blubbered eyes behold this spectacle Of man's mortality.— O my dearest Tyndarus!
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)
Health to the fair Evadne. Is any left so courteous to wish health To the distress'd Evadne? Pamphilus? Is my Techmessa here? Now all the Gods Preserve her hence, there is in hell more safety Among the Furies—Mischief built this house For all her family. Gentle Pamphilus, See me delivered from this jayl, this dungeon, This horrid vault of lust. TAke comfort, Lady. Your honour stands safe on his guard, while I Can use a sword. You have confirmed me, Sir. How close they winde, like glutinous snakes ingendring, Well sister, I shall study to requite This courteous treachery. Pamphilus, in me All starres conspire to make affliction perfect. Wait on heavens pleasure, Madam: such a one The heavens ne're made for misery, they but give you These crosses as sharp sauce to whet your appetite For some choice banquet. Or they mean to lead you Through a vault dark and obscure as hell, To make your paradise a sweeter prospect. —Thus I feed Others with hopes, while mine own wounds do bleed. WHy should we toil thus in an endlesse search Of what we now behold?—Let us grow wise, I loath false Pamphilus—yet I could have lov'd him: And if he were but faithfull, could do still. Sure were Evadne false, yet Pamphilus Would not be made the instrument to wrong me. Or suppose Pamphilus were a treacherous brother; Me thinks Evadne should be kinder to me. Techmessa joyn with me in one search more, Ballio. O Ballio, 'tis in you and deare Asotus To make two wretches happy. Then be happy. 'Ile make you two joynt heirs of my estate, And you shall give it out: we two are dead By our own hands. And beare us both this night To church in coffins. Whence we'le make escape, And bid farewell to Thebes. Would you not both Be buried in one coffin? then the grave Would have her tenants multiply: —heare you Tutour, Shall not we be suspected for the murder, And choke with a hempen squincy? To secure you, We'le write before what we intend to act: Our hands shall witnesse with your innocence. Well: Come the worst, I'le venture; —and perchance You shall not die in jest again o'th' suddain. What strange Maeanders Cupid leads us through! When most we forward go, we backward move. There is no path so intricate as Love! CArry these letters unto Chremylus house. Give this to Pamphilus, to Evadne that, And certifie 'um of this sad event. It will draw teares from theirs—As from my eyes, Because they are not reall obsequies. So great my grief, so dolorous my disaster, I know not in what language to expresse it, Unlesse I should be dumbe! —Sob—sob Asotus, Sob till thy buttons break, and crack thy bandstrings With lamentation, and distress'd condoling, With blubberd eyes behold this spectacle Of mans mortality.—O my dearest Tyndarus!