Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Where shall I run to meet, that, which beheld Kills with a deadlier wound then do the eyes Or coldest poison of a Basilisk. Althaea stay— and let thy wretched Parent Take the last farewell of her dying child. Ah why did Nature make my unhappy womb Fruitful by thee, and yet reserve mine age To outlive the extremities of grief, and see Thy dismal end by an untimely death? Was I reserved for this? Or were the crimes Of our black guilt so horrid in the eyes Of Heaven, that nothing but the fatal scourge Of severe justice in the woefull'st form Could expiate our sin? How were I blessed If the first instant that imparted life To thy scarce featured self (joy to my womb) Had been the last in which we both had breathed! Madam! do not afflict yourself, nor let your cares Live from our death; Althaea cannot die, But with her innocence does buy a life That shall extend her worth beyond the reach Of Time and Envy. Therefore as you respect Your daughters peaceful happiness, take truce With sorrow but till we be dead, and Heaven That still protects the innocent, will show How just it is in plaguing those that strive By treacherous plots to oppress innocent lives. Canst thou persuade the Ocean in a storm To leave her swelling? Or a Bullet shot To stop its passage? No Althaea! no! The lightest Arrow is not more powerful sent Unto his Mark than we are thrown to death. Therefore farewell, I'll haste to meet thee there, Where no injustice nor oppressing tyranny Shall sever our embraces; and let this kiss Seal up that vow upon thy dying lips— What's here? has sorrow so transformed thy shape? Or dulled the wonted vigour of my sight, That it sees nothing right proportioned? Madam conceal me for Althaea's love, Who lives, but banished only for a while; And let me die that she may freely live; My Lord Lucilio, do you mock my woes? O where's Althaea? have you murdered her? And come to upbraid the miseries we feel? Is 't not enough that I must lose that stay On which my aged widowhood relied; But you must jest at anguish? Is not our blood Enough to satisfy the thirst of Treason, But you must swallow more? I'll not conceal Your murdering plots, but lay these Actions open To the wide world's eyes; and leave the rest, In hope that Heaven, who doth your treacheries view, As you have dealt, so they may deal with you. What means my Lord? To die as I am doomed, Therefore let me go. Antonio, lend your help To save the Prince, whom you have brought to death. My heart! force him to live, or by the Seat Of justice, you shall die as many deaths As you have Arteries. Then we must live to see those griefs alive Which death would end, and life will but revive.
nodes 842–905 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 19 of 47 in this edition
Length
498 words · 630 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.898 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Where ſhall I runne to meet, that, which beheld Kils with a deadlyer wound then doe the eyes Or coldeſt poyſon of a Baſiliske. Althea ſtay—and let thy wretched Parent Take the laſt farewell of her dying childe. Ah why did Nature make my unhappy wombe Fruitfull by thee, and yet reſerve mine age To out-live the extremities of griefe, and ſee Thy diſmall end by an untimely death? Was I reſerv'd for this? Or were the crimes Of our black guilt ſo horrid in the eyes Of Heaven, that nothing but the fatall ſcourge Of ſevere juſtice in the woefull'ſt forme Could expiate our ſinne? How were I bleſt If the firſt inſtant that imparted life To thy ſcarce featur'd ſelfe (joy to my wombe) Had beene the laſt in which we both had breath'd! Madam! doe not afflict your ſelfe, nor let your cares Live from our death; Althea cannot dye, But with her innocence does buy a life That ſhall extend her worth beyond the reach Of Time and Envy. Therefore as you reſpect Your daughters peacefull happineſſe, take truce With ſorrow but till we be dead, and Heaven That ſtill protects the innocent, will ſhow How juſt it is in plaguing thoſe that ſtrive By treacherous plots to oppreſſe innocent lives. Canſt thou perſwade the Ocean in a ſtorme To leave her ſwelling? Or a Bullet ſhot To ſtop its paſſage? No Althea! no! The lighteſt Arrow is not more powerfull ſent Vnto his Mark than we are throwne to death. Therefore farewell, Ile haſte to meet thee there, Where no injuſtice nor oppreſſing tyrannie Shall ſever our embraces; and let this kiſſe Seale up that vow upon thy dying lips— What's here? has ſorrow ſo transform'd thy ſhape? Or dull'd the wonted vigour of my ſight, That it ſees nothing right proportioned? Madam conceale me for Althea's love, Who lives, but baniſh'd onely for a while; And let me die that ſhe may freely live; My Lord Lucilio, doe you mocke my woes? O where's Althea? have you murder'd her? And come to upbraid the miſeries we feele? Is 't not enough that I muſt loſe that ſtay On which my aged widdowhood rely'd; But you muſt jeſt at anguiſh? Is not our blood Enough to ſatisfie the thirſt of Treaſon, But you muſt ſwallow more? Ile not conceale Your murdering plotts, but lay theſe Actions ope To the wide worlds eyes; and leave the reſt, In hope that Heaven, who doth your treacheries view, As you have dealt, ſo they may deale with you. What meanes my Lord? To dye as I am doom'd, Therefore let me goe. Antonio, lend your help To ſave the Prince, whom you have brought to death. My heart! force him to live, or by the Seat Of Iuſtice, you ſhall die as many deaths As you have Arteries. Then we muſt live to ſee thoſe griefes alive Which death would end, and life will but revive.