Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Madam, It shall be speedily performed Please you a while retire into this room And wait the ceremonious hour, while we Prepare us for the sacrifice, and provide Those powerful ingredients which we use In the confection of our charms, I will. Mic. Sarvia! Sar. Mother! Mic. Take thy flight While the Moon affords thee light, While the dogstar shines downright On the powerful Aconite, And the Herbs appear in sight. Sar. Away and wash your body white In the spring, and cleanse you quite, For I'll soon the Shepherd fright, And bring home to mend the right A female Lamb as black as night. Mic. Haste then, quick return thee home. Do not tho forget the stone In the Toad, nor serpent's bone, Nor the Mandrake though he groan, Pull him up, he is our own. Sar. I'll steal beside (let me alone) The great black Cat from jumping Joan, And make the Nurse and Mother moan When their fatlings throat is shown: Mic. Haste then, quick return thee home. Where be we now Antonio! is not this life On the far side of death, and sinks beyond A non existens? Hadst thou not made thy friend Blessed in thy faith, if thou hadst yielded way To my desires, and I had clearly leapt From the main top of mischief, and fall'n short Of these calamities? Oh the gross oversight Of our mistaking nature, that is so base To buy a draught of air with seas of ills! Or think we benefit a friend, when we Do turn his hourglass to make life run; Though every minute hails down misfortune thick As it doth Sand into the empty receptacle. Nay, give me leave to tell your Grace my Lord, This strong desire of death, that hath possessed Your will thus far, does not express the signs Of that true valour your spirit seems to bear; For 'tis not courage, when the darts of chance Are thrown against our State, to turn our backs, And basely run to death; as if the hand Of Heaven and Nature had lent nothing else To oppose against mishap, but loss of life, Which is to fly and not to conquer it. For know it were true valours part, my Lord, That when the hand of chance had crushed our States, Ruined all that our fairest hopes had built, And thrown't in heaps of desolation; Then by those ruins for our thoughts to climb Up, till they dared blind fortune to the face, And urged her anger to increase those heaps, That we might rise with them, and make her know we were above, and all her power below. Why this my Lord would prove us men indeed. But when affliction thunders o'er our Roof, To hide our heads, and run into our graves Shows us no men, but makes us fortune's slaves.
nodes 960–1022 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 22 of 47 in this edition
Length
479 words · 604 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.766 (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)
Madam, It ſhall be ſpeedily perform'd Pleaſe you a while retire into this roome And waite the ceremonious houre, while wee Prepare us for the ſacrifice, and provide Thoſe powerfull ingredients which we uſe In the confection of our charmes, I will. Mic. Sarvia! Sar. Mother! Mic. Take thy flight While the Moone affords thee light, While the Dog-Starre ſhines downright On the powerfull Aconite, And the Hearbes appeare in ſight. Sar. Away and waſh your body white In the ſpring, and clenſe you quite, For Ile ſoone the Shepheard fright, And bring home to mend the right A female Lamb as black as night. Mic. Haſte then, quicke retune thee home. Doe not tho forget the ſtone In the Toade, nor Serpents bone, Nor the Mandrake though he groane, Pull him up, he is our owne. Sar. Ile ſteale beſides (let me alone) The great blacke Cat from jumping Jone, And make the Nurſe and Mother moane When their fatlings throat is ſhowne: Mic. Haſte then, quicke returne thee home. Where be we now Antonio! is not this life On the farre ſide of death, and ſinkes beyond A non exiſtens? Hadſt thou not made thy friend Bleſt in thy faith, if thou hadſt yeelded way To my deſires, and I had cleerly leapt From the maine top of miſchiefe, and falne ſhort Of theſe calamities? Oh the groſſe overſight Of our miſtaking nature, that is ſo baſe To buy a draught of ayre with ſeas of ills! Or thinke we benefit a friend, when wee Doe turne his houre-glaſſe to make life runne; Though every minute hailes downe miſ-fortune thick As it doth Sand into the empty receptacle. Nay, give me leave to tell your Grace my Lord, This ſtrong deſire of death, that hath poſſeſt Your will thus farre, does not expreſſe the ſignes Of that true valour your ſpirit ſeemes to beare; For 'tis not courage, when the darts of chance Are throwne againſt our State, to turne our backs, And baſely runne to death; as if the hand Of Heaven and Nature had lent nothing elſe To oppoſe againſt miſhap, but loſſe of life, Which is to flie and not to conquer it. For know it were true valours part, my Lord, That when the hand of chance had cruſh'd our States, Ruin'd all that our faireſt hopes had built, And thrown't in heaps of deſolation; Then by thoſe ruines for our thoughts to climbe Vp, till they dar'd blinde fortune to the face, And urg'd her anger to increaſe thoſe heaps, That we might riſe with them, and make her know Wee were above, and all her power below. Why this my Lord would prove us men indeed. But when affliction thunders o'r our Roofe, To hide our heads, and runne into our graves Shewes us no men, but makes us fortunes ſlaves.