Marlowe, Christopher · published 1633 · first performed or written 1589 [c.1589-1590] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown · before the Court unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Oh unhappy day, False, credulous, inconstant Abigal! But let 'em go: And Ithimore, from hence ne'er shall she grieve me more with her disgrace; ne'er shall she live to inherit aught of mine, Be blessed of me, nor come within my gates, But perish underneath my bitter curse Like Cain by Adam, for his brother's death. Oh master. Ithimore, entreat not for her, I am moved, And she is hateful to my soul and me: And lest thou yield to this that I entreat, I cannot think but that thou hat'st my life. Who I, master? Why I'll run to some rock and Throw myself headlong into the sea; why I'll do any Thing for your sweet sake. Oh trusty Ithimore; no servant, but my friend; I here adopt thee for mine only heir, All that I have is thine when I am dead, And whilst I live use half; spend as myself; Here take my keys, I'll give 'em thee anon: Go buy thee garments: but thou shalt not want: Only know this, that thus thou art to do: But first go fetch me in the pot of Rice That for our supper stands upon the fire. I hold my head my master's hungry: I go Sir. Thus every villain ambles after wealth Although he ne'er be richer than in hope: But hush't. Here 'tis, Master. Well said, Ithimore; what hast thou brought The Ladle with thee too? Yes, Sir, the proverb says, he that eats with the devil Had need of a long spoon, I have brought you a Ladle. Very well, Ithimore, then now be secret, And for thy sake, whom I so dearly love, Now shalt thou see the death of Abigal, That thou mayst freely live to be my heir. Why, master, will you poison her with a mess of rice Porridge that will preserve life, make her round & plump, And batten more than you are aware. ay but Ithimore seest thou this? It is a precious powder that I bought Of an Italian in Anoona once, Whose operation is to bind, infect, And poison deeply: yet not appear In forty hours after it is ta'en. How master? Thus Ithimore: This Even they use in Malta here ('tis called Saint Iagues Even) and then I say they use To send their Alms unto the Nunneries: Among the rest bear this, and set it there; There's a dark entry where they take it in, Where they must neither see the messenger, Nor make enquiry who hath sent it them. How so? Belike there is some Ceremony in't. There Ithimore must thou go place this plot: Stay, let me spice it first. Pray do, and let me help you Mr. Pray let me taste first. prithee do: what sayst thou now? Troth Mr. I'm loath such a pot of pottage should be spoilt. Peace, Ithimore, 'tis better so then spared. Assure thyself thou shalt have broth by the eye. My purse, my Coffer, and myself is thine.
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)
Oh vnhappy day, False, credulous, inconstant Abigall! But let 'em goe: And Ithimore, from hence Ne're shall she grieue me more with her disgrace; Ne're shall she liue to inherit ought of mine, Be blest of me, nor come within my gates, But perish vnderneath my bitter curse Like Cain by Adam, for his brother's death. Oh master. Ithimore, intreat not for her, I am mou'd, And she is hatefull to my soule and me: And least thou yeeld to this that I intreat, I cannot thinke but that thou hat'st my life. Who I, master? Why I'le run to some rocke and Throw my selfe headlong into the sea; why I'le doe any Thing for your sweet sake. Oh trusty Ithimore; no seruant, but my friend; I here adopt thee for mine onely heire, All that I haue is thine when I am dead, And whilst I liue vse ; spend as my selfe; Here take my keyes, I'le giue 'em thee anon Goe buy thee garments: but thou shalt not want: Onely know this, that thus thou art to doe: But first goe fetch me in the pot of Rice That for our supper stands vpon the fire. I hold my head my master's hungry: I goe Sir. Thus euery villaine ambles after wealth Although he ne're be richer then in hope: But huh't. Here 'tis, Master. Well said, Ithimore; what hast thou brought The Ladle with thee too? Yes, Sir, the prouerb saies, he that eats with the deuil Had need of a long spoone, I haue brought you a Ladle. Very well, Ithimore, then now be secret And for thy sake, whom I so dearely loue, Now shalt thou see the death of Abigall, That thou mayst freely liue to be my heire. Why, master, wil you poison her with a messe of rice Porredge that wil preserue life, make her round & plump, And batten more then you are aware. I but Ithimore seest thou this? It is a precious powder that I bought Of an Italian in Anna once, Whose operation is to binde infect, And poyson deeply: yet not appeare In forty houres after it is tae. How master? Thus Ithimore: This Euen they vse in Malta here ('tis call'd Saint Iagues Euen) and then I say they vse To send their Almes vnto the Nunneries: Among the rest beare this, and set it there; There's a darke entry where ey take it in, Where they must neither see the messenger, Nor make enquiry who hath sent it them. How so? Belike there is some Ceremony in't. There Ithimore must thou goe place this plot: Stay, let me spice it first. Pray doe, and let me help you Mr. Pray let me taste first. Prethe doe: what saist thou now? Troth Mr. I'm loth such a pot of pottage should be spoyld. Peace, Ithimore, 'tis better so then spar'd. Assure thy selfe thou shalt haue broth by the eye. My purse, my Coffer, and my selfe is thine.