Ford, John · published 1633 · first performed or written 1630 [c.1630-1633] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Beasts only capable of sense, enjoy The benefit of food and ease with thankfulness; Such silly creatures, with a grudging, kick not Against the portion Nature hath bestowed; But men endowed with reason, and the use Of reason, to distinguish from the chaff Of abject scarcity, the Quintessence, Soul, and elixir of the Earth's abundance, The treasures of the Sea, the Air, nay heaven Repining at these glories of creation, Are verier beasts than beasts; and of those beasts The worst am I; I, who was made a Monarch Of what a heart could wish, for a chaste wife, Endeavoured what in me lay, to pull down That Temple built for adoration only, And level't in the dust of causeless scandal: But to redeem a sacrilege so impious, Humility shall pour before the deities: I have incensed a largeness of more patience Than their displeased Altars can require: No tempests of commotion shall disquiet The calms of my composure. I have found thee, Thou patron of more horrors than the bulk Of manhood, hooped about with ribs of Iron, Can cram within thy breast: Penthea (Bassanes) Cursed by thy jealousies; more, by thy dotage Is left a prey to words. Exercise Your trials for addition to my penance, I am resolved. Play not with misery Past cure; some angry Minister of Fate hath Deposed the Empress of her soul, her reason, From its most proper Throne; but what's the miracle More new, ay, I have seen it, and yet live. You may delude my senses, not my judgement: 'Tis anchored into a firm resolution, Dalliance of Mirth or Wit can ne'er unfix it. Practice yet further. May thy death of love to her Damn all thy comforts to a lasting fast From every joy of life: Thou barren rock, By thee we have be split in ken of harbour. Sister look up, your Ithocles, your brother Speaks t'ee: why do you weep? dear, turn not from me: Here is a killing sight: lo, Bassanes, A lamentable object. Man, dost see't? Sports are more gamesome; am I yet in merriment? Why dost not laugh? Divine, and best of Ladies, Please to forget my outrage? mercy ever Cannot but lodge under a root so excellent: I have cast off that cruelty of frenzy Which once appeared, Impostors, and then juggled To cheat my sleeps of rest. Was I in earnest? Sure if we were all Sirens, we should sing pitifully; And 'twere a comely music, when in parts One sung another's knell: the Turtle sighs When he hath lost his mate; and yet some say A' must be dead first: 'tis a fine deceit To pass away in a dream: indeed I've slept With mine eyes open a great while. No falsehood equal a broken faith; there's not a hair Sticks on my head but like a leaden plumber It sinks me to the grave: I must creep thither. The journey is not long.
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)
Beasts onely capable of sense, enioy The benefit of food and ease with thankfulnesse; Such silly creatures, with a grudging, kicke not Against the portion Nature hath bestow'd; But men endow'd with reason, and the vse Of reason, to distinguish from the chaffe Of abiect scarscity, the Quintescence, Soule, and Elixar of the Earths abundance, The treasures of the Sea, the Ayre, nay heauen Repining at these glories of creation, Are verier beast than beasts; and of those beasts The worst am I; I, who was made a Monarch Of what a heart could wish, for a chast wife, Endeuour'd what in me lay, to pull downe That Temple built for adoration onely, And leuel't in the dust of causelesse scandall: But to redeeme a sacrilege so impious, Humility shall powre before the deities: I haue incenst a largenesse of more patience Then their displeased Altars can require: No tempests of commotion shall disquiet The calmes of my composure. I haue found thee, Thou patron of more horrors then the bulke Of manhood, hoop'd about with ribs of Iron, Can cramb within thy brest: Pnthea (Bassanes) Curst by thy Iealousies; more, by thy dotag Is left a prey to words. Exercis Your trials for addition to my pennance, I am resolu'd. Play not with misery Past cure some angry Minister of Fate hath Depos'd the Empresse of her soule, her rson, From its most proper Throne; but what's the miracle More new, I, I haue seene it, and yet liue. You may delude my senses, not my iudgement: 'Tis anchor'd into a firme resolution, Dalliance of Mirth or Wit can ne're vnfixe it. Practise yet further. May thy death of loue to her Damne all thy comforts to a lasting fast From euery ioy of life: Thou barren rocke, By thee we haue bee split in ken of harbour. Sister looke vp, your Ithocles, your brother Speakes t'ee: why doe you weepe? Deere, turne not from me: Here is a killing sight: lo, Bassanes, A lamentable obiect. Man, dost see't? Sports are more gamesome; am I yet in merriment? Why dost not laugh Diuine, and best of Ladies, Please to forget my out-rage? mercy euer Cannot but lodge vnder a root so excellent: I haue cast off that cruelty of frenzy Which once appear'd, Impostors, and then iugled To cheat my sleeps of rest. Was I in earnest? Sure if we were all Sirens, we should sing pittifully; And 'twere a comely musicke, when in parts One sung anothers knell: the Turtle sighes When he hath lost his mate; and yet some say A' must be dead first: 'tis a fine deceit To passe away in a dreame: indeed I'ue slept With mine eyes open a great while. No falshood Equals a broken faith; there's not a haire Sticks on my head but like a leaden Plummer It sinkes me to the graue: I must creepe thither. The iourny is not long.