Greville, Fulke · published 1633 · first performed or written 1600 [c.1598-c.1600] (Annals) tragedy T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.81 · 520 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Good fortune Welcome! we haue lost our care, And found our losse: Celica distract I see; The King is neere: She is her fathers eyes. Behold! the forlorne wretch, halfe of my feare, Takes Sanctuary at holy Altars feet: Lead him apart, examine, force, and try; These binde the subiect, not the Monarchy. Celica! awake: that God of whom you craue Is deafe, and only giues men what they haue. Ah cruell wretch! guilty of parents blood! Might I, poore innocent, my father free, My murther yet were lesse impiety. But on; deuoure: feare only to be good: Let vs not scape: thy glory then doth rise, When thou at once thy house do'st sacrifice. Tell me where thy Father is. O bloody scorne? Must he be kill'd againe that gaue thee breath? Is duty nothing else in thee but death? Leaue off this maske; deceipt is neuer wise; Though he be blind, a King hath many eyes O twofold scorne. God be reueng'd for me. Yet since my Father is destroy'd by thee, Adde still more scorne, it sorrow multiplies. Passions are learn'd, not borne within the heart; That method keepe: Order is quiets art. Tell where he is: For looke what loue conceales, Paine out of Natures Labyrinths reueales. This is reward which thou do'st threaten me: If terrour thou wilt threaten, promise ioyes. Smart cooles these boyling stiles of vanity. And if my Father I no more shall see, Helpe me vnto the place where he remaines; To hell below, or to the skie aboue: The way is easie, where the guide is loue. Confesse: where is he hid? Racke not my woe. Thy glorious pride of this vnglorious deed Doth mischiefe, ripe; and therefore falling, show. Bodies haue place, and blindnesse must be led: Graues be the Thrones of Kings, when they be dead. He was (Vnhappy) cause that thou art now; Thou art, ah wicked! cause that he is not; And fear'st thou Parricide can be forgot? Beare witnesse, Thou Almighty God on high! And you blacke Powers inhabiting below! That for his life my selfe would yeeld to die. Well Sirs! Goe seeke the darke, and secret caues, The holy Temples, sanctified Cells, All parts wherein a liuing corps may dwell. Seeke him amongst the dead, you plac'd him there: Yet lose no paines, good Soules! goe not to hell; And, but to heauen, you may goe euery where. Guilty, with you, of his blood let me be, If any more I of my Father know, Than that he is where you would haue him goe. Teare vp the vaults: behold her agonies! " Sorrow substracts, and multiplies the spirits; Care, and desire doe vnder anguish cease! " Doubt curious is, affecting piety; Woe, loues it selfe; feare from it selfe would flie. Doe not these trembling motions witnesse beare, That all these protestations be of feare? If ought be quicke in me, moue it with scorne: Nothing can come amisse to thoughts forlorne. Confesse in time. Reuenge is mercilesse. Reward, and paine; feare, and desire too, Are vaine, in things impossible to doe.
nodes 2215–2282 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 36 of 43 in this edition
Length
520 words · 809 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.814 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
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)
Good fortune Welcome! we haue lost our care, And found our losse: Celica distract I see; The King is neere: She is her fathers eyes. Behold! the forlorne wretch, halfe of my feare, Takes Sanctuary at holy Altars feet: Lead him apart, examine, force, and try; These binde the subiect, not the Monarchy. Celica! awake: that God of whom you craue Is deafe, and only giues men what they haue. Ah cruell wretch! guilty of parents blood! Might I, poore innocent, my father free, My murther yet were lesse impiety. But on; deuoure: feare only to be good: Let vs not scape: thy glory then doth rise, When thou at once thy house do'st sacrifice. Tell me where thy Father is. O bloody scorne? Must he be kill'd againe that gaue thee breath? Is duty nothing else in thee but death? Leaue off this maske; deceipt is neuer wise; Though he be blind, a King hath many eyes O twofold scorne. God be reueng'd for me. Yet since my Father is destroy'd by thee, Adde still more scorne, it sorrow multiplies. Passions are learn'd, not borne within the heart; That method keepe: Order is quiets art. Tell where he is: For looke what loue conceales, Paine out of Natures Labyrinths reueales. This is reward which thou do'st threaten me: If terrour thou wilt threaten, promise ioyes. Smart cooles these boyling stiles of vanity. And if my Father I no more shall see, Helpe me vnto the place where he remaines; To hell below, or to the skie aboue: The way is easie, where the guide is loue. Confesse: where is he hid? Racke not my woe. Thy glorious pride of this vnglorious deed Doth mischiefe, ripe; and therefore falling, show. Bodies haue place, and blindnesse must be led: Graues be the Thrones of Kings, when they be dead. He was (Vnhappy) cause that thou art now; Thou art, ah wicked! cause that he is not; And fear'st thou Parricide can be forgot? Beare witnesse, Thou Almighty God on high! And you blacke Powers inhabiting below! That for his life my selfe would yeeld to die. Well Sirs! Goe seeke the darke, and secret caues, The holy Temples, sanctified Cells, All parts wherein a liuing corps may dwell. Seeke him amongst the dead, you plac'd him there: Yet lose no paines, good Soules! goe not to hell; And, but to heauen, you may goe euery where. Guilty, with you, of his blood let me be, If any more I of my Father know, Than that he is where you would haue him goe. Teare vp the vaults: behold her agonies! " Sorrow substracts, and multiplies the spirits; " Care, and desire doe vnder anguish cease! " Doubt curious is, affecting piety; " Woe, loues it selfe; feare from it selfe would flie. Doe not these trembling motions witnesse beare, That all these protestations be of feare? If ought be quicke in me, moue it with scorne: Nothing can come amisse to thoughts forlorne. Confesse in time. Reuenge is mercilesse. Reward, and paine; feare, and desire too, Are vaine, in things impossible to doe.