Shirley, James · published 1635 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, May 4] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.76 · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Pronounce it, And let no danger that attends, incline you To make a pause. The Duke thou know'st did love thee. Hi? Nay do not start already, nor mistake me; I do not as before, make trial of thee, Whether thou canst, laying aside thy honour, Meet his lascivious arms but by this virtue I must beseech thee to for go it all, And turn a sinful woman. Bless me! I know the kingdoms of the world contain not Riches enough to tempt thee to a fall That will so much undo thee: but I am Thy brother, dying brother; if thou lov'st Him therefore, that for thee hath done so much; Died his pale hands in blood to revenge thee, And in that murder wounded his own soul Almost to death, consent to lose thy innocence: I know it makes thee grieve, but I shall live To love thee better for it: we'll repent Together for our sins, and pray and weep Till Heaven hath pardoned all. Oh never, never. Do but repeat thy words, to save my life, And that will teach compassion: my life, Our shame, the stain of all our family, Which will succeed in my ignoble death, Thou washest off. But stain myself for ever. Where? in thy face, who shall behold one blemish, Or one not more in thy whole frame, thy beauty Will be the very same, thy speech, thy person Wear no deformity. Oh do not speak So like a rebel to all modesty, To all Religion, if these arguments Spring from your jealousy that I am fall'n, After a proof you did so late applaud. I had not killed Pisano then: I am now More spotted than the Marble, than my head Did owe no forfeiture to Law: It does ache now, than I but tried thy virtue. Now my condition calls for mercy to thee, Though to thyself thou appear cruel for't: Come we may live both if you please. I must never Buy my poor breath at such a rate, who has Made you afraid to die: I pity you, And wish myself in any noble cause Your Leader, when our souls shall leave this dwelling, The glory of one fair, and virtuous action Is above all the scutcheons on our tomb, Or silken banners over us. So valiant, I will not interpose another syllable To entreat your pity say your prayers, and then thou'rt ripe to be translated from the earth, To make a cherubin. What means my brother? To kill you. Do not fright me good Sciarrha. And I allow three minutes for your devotion. Will you murder me? D''ee tremble? Not at the terror of your sword, But at the horror will affright thy soul, For this black deed: I see Pisano's blood Is texted in thy forehead, and thy hands Retain too many, too many crimson spots already Make not thyself, by furthering of thy sister All a red letter, You shall be the martyr.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Pronounce it, And let no danger that attends, incline you To make a pause. The Duke thou knowst did love thee. Hi? Nay doe not start alreadie, nor mistake me; I doe not as before, make trial of thee, Whether thou canst, laying aside thy honour, Meete his lascivious armes but by this vertue I must beseech thee to for goe it all, And turne a sinfull woman. Blesse me! I know the kingdomes of the world containe not Riches enough to tempt thee to a fall That will so much undoe thee: but I am Thy brother, dying brother; if thou lov'st Him therefore, that for thee hath done so much; Died his pale hands in blood to revenge thee, And in that murder wounded his owne soule Almost to death, consent to loose thy innocence▪ I know it makes thee grieve, but I shall live To love thee better for it: wee repent Together for ou sinnes, and pray and weepe Till Heaven hath pardon'd all. Oh never, never. Doe but repeat thy words, to save my life, And tat will teach comassion: my , Our shame, the staine of all our familie, Which wil succeede in my ignoble death▪ Thou washest off. But staine my selfe for ever. Where? in thy ace, who shall behold one blemish, Or one ot more in thy whole frame, thy beautie Will be the very same, thy speech, thy person Weare no deformitie. Oh doe not speake So like a rebell to all modestie, To all Religion, if these arguments Spring from your jealousie that I am falne, After a proofe you did so late applaude. I had not killd Pisno then: I am now More spotted then the Marble, then my head Did owe no forfeiture to Law: It does ake now, then I but tried thy vertue. Now my condition calls for mercy to thee, Though to thy selfe thou appeare cruell for't: Come we may live both if you please. I must never Buy my poore breath at such a rate, who has Made you afraide to die: I pittie you, And wish my selfe in any noble cause Your Leader, when our soules shall leave this dwelling, The glory of one faire, and vertuous action Is above all the scutcheons on our ombe, Or silken bannrs over us. So valiant, J will not interpose another sillable To entreate your pittie say your prayers, and then Thar't ripe to be translated from the earth, To make a Cherubine. What meanes my brother? To kil you. Doe not fright me good Sciarrha. And I allow three minutes for your devotion. Will you murder mee? D'ee tremble? Not at the terror of your sword, But at the horror will affright thy soule, For this blacke deed: J see Pisanos blood Is texted in thy forehead, and thy hands Retaine too many, too many crimson spots already Make not thy selfe, by urthering of thy ister All a red letter, You shall be the martir.