Massinger, Philip · published 1636 · first performed or written 1627 [licensed for stage, Jul 5] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 528 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Pray you forbear To press that farther, 'tis a fault we have Already heard, and pardoned. We will then pass over it, & briefly touch at that Which does concern ourself. In which both being Equal offenders, what we shall speak, points Indifferently at either. How we raised thee (Forgetful Sanazarro of our Grace) To a full possession of power, and honours, It being too well known, we'll not remember. And what thou wert (rash youth) in expectation (And from which headlong thou hast thrown thyself) Not Florence, but all Tuscany can witness With admiration. To assure thy hopes, We did keep constant to a widowed bed, And did deny ourself those lawful pleasures, Our absolute power and height of blood allowed us. Made both, the keys that opened our hearts secrets, And what you spoke believed as Oracles. But you in recompense of this to him That gave you all, to whom you owed your being With treacherous lies endeavoured to conceal This jewel from our knowledge, which ourself Could only lay just claim too. 'Tis most true Sir. We both confess a guilty cause. Look on her, Is this a beauty fit to be embraced By any subject's arms? Can any tire Become that forehead, but a Diadem? Or should we grant your being false to us Could be excused, your treachery to her In seeking to deprive her of that greatness (Her matchless form considered) she was born too, Must ne'er find pardon? we have spoken Ladies Like a rough Orator, that brings more truth Than rhetoric to make good his accusation, And now expect your sentence. In your birth Sir You were marked out the judge of life, and death, And we that are your Subjects to attend With trembling fear your doom. We do resign This Chair as only proper to yourself. And since in justice we are lost, we fly Unto your saving mercy. Which sets off A Prince much more than rigour. And becomes him When 'tis expressed to such as fell by weakness (That being a twin-born brother to affection) Better than wreathes of conquest. Hie. Lod. Con. Alph. We all-speake Their language mighty Sir. You know our temper, And therefore with more boldness venture on it. And would not our consent to your demands Deprive us of a happiness hereafter Ever to be despaired of, we perhaps Might harken nearer to you, and could wish With some qualification or excuse You might make less the mountains of your crimes, And so invite our clemency to feast with you. But you that knew with what impatiency Of grief we parted from the fair Clarinda Our Duchess, (let her memory still be sacred) And with what imprecations on ourself We vowed, not hoping e'er to see her equal, ne'er to make trial of a second choice, If Nature framed not one that did excel her, (As this Maid's beauty prompts us that she does) And yet with oaths then mixed with tears, upon Her monument we swore our eye should never Again be tempted, 'tis true, and those vows Are registered above, something here tells me. Carolo thou heardst us swear.
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)
Pray you forbeare To presse that farther, 'tis a fault we have Already heard, and pardon'd. We will then passe over it, & briefly touch at that Which does concern our selfe. In which both being Equall offenders, what we shall speake, points Indifferently at either. How we rais'd thee (Forgetfull Sanazarro of our Grace) To a full possession of power, and honors, It being too well knowne, we'll not remember. And what thou wert (rash youth) in expectation (And from which headlong thou hast throwne thy selfe) Not Florence, but all Tuskany can witnesse With admiration. To assure thy hopes, We did keepe constant to a widdowed bed, And did deny our selfe those lawfull pleasures, Our absolute power and height of blood allow'd us. Made both, the keyes that open'd our hearts secrets, And what you spake believ'd as Oracles. But you in recompence of this to him That gave you all, to whom you ow'd your being VVith trecherous lies endevour'd to conceale This jewell from our knowledge, which our selfe Could onely lay just clayme too. 'Tis most true Sir. We both confesse a guilty cause. Looke on her, Is this a beauty fit to be imbrac'd By any Subjects armes? Can any tyre Become that forhead, but a Diadem? Or should we grant your being false to us Could be excus'd, your trechery to her In seeking to deprive her of that greatnesse (Her matchless forme consider'd) she was born too, Must ne're finde pardon? we have spoken Ladies Like a rough Orator, that brings more truth Then rhetorique to make good his accusation, And now expect your sentence. In your birth Sir You were mark'd out the Iudge of life, and death, And we that are your Subjects to attend With trembling feare your doome. VVe doe resigne This Chaire as onely proper to your selfe. And since in justice we are lost, we flie Unto your saving mercie. VVhich sets off A Prince much more then rigour. And becomes him When 'tis express'd to such as fell by weaknesse (That being a twin-borne brother to affection) Better then wreathes of conquest. Hie. Lod. Con. Alph. VVe all-speake Their language mighty Sir. You know our temper, And therefore with more boldnesse venter on it. And would not our consent to your demands Deprive us of a happinesse hereafter Ever to be despair'd of, we perhaps Might hearken neerer to you, and could wish With some qualification or excuse You might make lesse the mountaines of your crimes, And so invite our clemencie to feast with you. But you that knew with what impatiencie Of griefe we parted from the faire Clarinda Our Dutchesse, (let her memory still be sacred) And with what imprecations on our selfe We vow'd, not hoping e're to see her equall, Ne're to make triall of a second choyce, If Nature fram'd not one that did excell her, (As this Mayds beauty prompts us that she does) And yet with oathes then mix'd with teares, upon Her monument we swore our eye should never Againe be tempted, 'tis true, and those vowes Are registred above, something here tells me. Carolo thou heardst us sweare.