Shirley, James · published 1635 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, May 4] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.78 · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Shake off your melancholy slumber, I Have here decreed you shall possess her: she Be sent submissive to your arms, and you Be gracious to accept what she made coy of. Is this in nature? Thus: Sciarrha's life And fortunes are already growing forfeit These brains have plotted so: your mercy shall Purchase what you can wish, for, in his Sister And he acknowledge rifling of her honour, A fair and cheap redemption. Do this, And I'll repent the folly of my penitence, And take thee to my soul, a nearer pledge Than blood or nature gave me: I'm renewed, I feel my natural warmth return, when, where, Is this to be expected? I grow old, While our embraces are deferred. I go, to hasten your delight, prepare your blood For amorous game: Sciarrha's fate is cast Firmer than destiny. Thou art my Prophet, I'll raise thee up an Altar. Trust these brains. Thou mak'st my spirit caper in my veins. This way they pass. I would not see 'em. Why? What melancholy o'the sudden? it is now past cure. I know it is, and therefore do not Desire to witness their solemnity, should Oriana See me today. What then? The object I Fear would be too prodigious. We dispute not those nice formalities. She has spied you already. I am sorry for't. How is't my child? My dearest Oriana, She faints, what grief is so unmannerly To interrupt thee now Oriana? Daughter! Will Heaven divorce us ere the Priest have made Our Marriage perfect? we in vain hereafter Shall hear him teach, that our Religion binds To have the church's ceremony, she returns. Why were you so unkind to call me from A pleasing slumber? Death has a fine dwelling. This shows her heart's not yet consenting, 'tis Her Mother's fierce command. Something spoke to me from that window. There is nothing. Nothing now. Set forward. I do not like this interruption: 'tis Ominous. Not for my sake, but for your own, go back, Or take some other way, this leads to death My brother. What of him? Transported with The fury of revenge for my dishonour, As he conceives; for 'tis against my will: Hath vowed to kill you in your Nuptial glory. Alas I fear his haste, now good my Lord, Have mercy on yourself, I do not beg Your pity upon me, I know too well You cannot love me now, nor would I rob This Virgin of your faith, since you have pleased To throw me from your love: I do not ask One smile, nor one poor kiss, every this maid Created for those blessings: but again, I would beseech you, cherish your own life, Though I be lost forever. It is worth Your care my Lord, if there be any danger. Alas her grief hath made her wild poor Lady: I should not love Oriana to go back, Set forward, Amidea, you may live To be a happier Bride: Sciarrha is not So irreligious to profane these rites.
nodes 1766–1846 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 28 of 38 in this edition
Length
505 words · 671 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.784 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Shake off your melancholie slumber, I Have heere decreed you shall possesse her: she Be sent submissive to your armes, and you Be gracious to accept what she made coy of. Is this in nature? Thus: Sciarrhas life And fortunes are alreadie growing forfeit These braines have plotted so: your mercy shall Purchase what you can wish, for, in his Sister And hee acknowledge rifling of her honour, A faire and cheape redemption. Doe this, And Ile repent the folly of my penitence, And take thee to my soule, a neerer pledge Then blood or nature gave mee: I'me renewd, I feele my naturall warmth returne, when, where, Is this to be expected? I grow old, While our embraces are deferd. J goe, to hasten your delight, prepare your blood For amorous game: Sciarrhas fate is cast Firmer then destinie. Thou art my Prophet, Jle raise thee up an Altar. Trust these braines. Thou mak'st my spirit caper in my veines. This way they passe. J would not see 'em. Why? What melanchollie o'the suddaine? it is now past cure. J know it is, and therefore doe not Desire to witnesse their solemnitie, should Oriana See me to day. What then? The object J Feare would be too prodigious. We dispute not those nice formalities. She has spied you already. I am sorry for't. How is't my childe? My dearest Oriana, Shee faints, what griefe is so unmannerly To interrupt thee now Oriana? Daughter! Will Heaven divorce vs ere the Priest have made Our Marriage perfect? we in vaine hereafter Shall heare him teach, that our Religion binds To have the Churches ceremonie, she returnes. Why were you so unkinde to call me from A pleasing slumber? Death has a fine dwelling. This shewes her heart's not yet consenting, tis Her Mothers fierce command. Something spake to me from that window. There is nothing. Nothing now. Set forward. I doe not like this interruption: tis Ominous. Not for my sake, but for your owne, go backe, Or take some other way, this leads to death My brother. What of him? Transported with The furie of revenge for my dishonour, As he conceives; for tis against my will: Hath vowd to kill you in your Nuptiall glory. Alas I feare his haste, now good my Lord, Have mercy on your selfe, I doe not begge Your pittie upon me, I know too well You cannot love me now, nor would I rob This Virgin of your faith, since you have pleas'd To throw me from your love: I doe not aske One smile, nor one poore kisse, enrich this maide Created for those blessings: but agen, I would beseech you, cherish your owne life, Though I be lost forever. It is worth Your care my Lord, if there be any danger. Alas her griefe hath made her wilde poore Ladie: J should not love Oriana to goe backe, Set forward, Amidea, you may live To be a happier Bride: Sciarrha is not So irreligious to prophane these rites.