Shirley, James · published 1637 · first performed or written 1633 [licensed for stage, Jul 3] (Annals) tragicomedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.86 · 461 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Can then Vittori be content to leave his Cassandra to the misery of life Alone? for in the number of mankind I ne'er shall find, another in whose love I can place any comfort. Do not say so? PRINCE's will court thee then, and at thy feet Humble their Crowns, and purchase smiles with Provinces, When I am dead the world shall dote on thee And pay thy beauty tribute, I am thy Affliction, and when thou art discharged From loving me, thy eyes shall be at peace, A Sun more glorious shall draw up thy tears Which gracing heaven in some new form, shall make The Constellations blush, and envy 'em; Or if thy love of me be so great, that when I am sacrificed Thou wot think of me, let this comfort thee, I die my country's Martyr, and ascend Rich in my scarlet robe of blood, my name Shall stain no Chronicle, and my Tomb be blessed With such a garland time shall never wither: Thou with a troop of Wives as chaste as thee, Shall visit my cold Sepulchre, and glory To say, this doth enclose Vittory's dust, That died true to his honour, and his country, Methinks I am taking of my leave already, And kissing the wet sorrows from thy cheek, Bid thee rejoice, Vittori is a conqueror, And death his way to triumph. This is all, A new disguise for grief, to make it show well. To make it show indeed, I have talked idly, And miserably forgot myself, I am checked, This tells me another tale, if I refuse To obey the king's directions, he is not So kind to take the forfeit of my life, But he will make the price of my neglect, Cassandra's innocent blood, if I obey not To do an act injurious to virtue, Thy soul must be divorced. Sir I have read it, And were not worthy of Vittory's love To value this poor life above his honour, Keep your high thoughts, preserve all peace within you, You shall not buy my breath with your own shame, I'll die with that devotion, I ha' prayed for you, Which trust me was most heartily, and I'll shed No tears for my own funeral, if any Unruly drop break forth, when we are parting, 'tis more to leave Vittori then the world, Yet if thou wot give me leave, I'll confess to thee Before my head fall from this other piece, I would deceive the hangman, for ere thou Go from me, with a sigh into thy bosom, I would convey my spirit, and leave him But a pale ghost, to mock his execution. I cannot hold, this conflict is more fierce Than many thousand battles, canst thou die?
seed 43: T44 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Can then Vittori be content to leave his Cassandra to the misery of life Alone? for in the number of mankinde I nere shall finde, another in whose love I can place any comfort. Do not say so? Princes will court thee then, and at thy feete Humble their Crownes, and purchase smiles with Provinces, When I am dead the world shall dote on thee And pay thy beauty tribute, I am thy Affliction, and when thou art discharg'd From loving me, thy eyes shall be at peace, A Sunne more glorious shall draw up thy teares Which gracing heaven in some new forme, shall make The Constellations blush, and envy em; Or if thy love of me be so great, that when I am sacrific'd Thou wot thinke of me, let this comfort thee, I die my Countries Martyr, and ascend Rich in my scarlet robe of bloud, my name Shall staine no Chronicle, and my Tombe be blest With such a garland time shall never wither: Thou with a troupe of Wives as chaste as thee, Shall visite my cold Sepulcher, and glory To say, this doth enclose Vittories dust, That died true to his honour, and his country, Methinkes I am taking of my leave already, And kissing the wet sorrrowes from thy cheeke, Bid thee rejoyce, Vittori is a conqueror, And death his way to triumph. This is all, A new disguise for griefe, to make it shew well. To make it shew indeed, I have talk'd idly, And miserably forgot my selfe, I am chck'd, This tels me another tale, if I refuse To obey the Kings directions, he is not So kinde to take the forfeit of my life, But he will make the price of my neglect, Cassandra's innocent bloud, if I obey not To do an act injurious to vertue, Thy soule must be divorc'd. Sir I have read it, And were not worthy of Vittories love To value this poore life above his honour, Keepe your high thoughts, peserve all peace within you, You shall not buy my breath with your owne shame, Ile die with that deotion, I ha praid for you, Which trust me was most heartily, and ile shed No teares for my owne funerall, if any Vnruly drop breake forth, when we are parting, Tis more to leave Vittori then the world, Yet if thou wot give me leave, Ile confesse to the Before my head fall from this other peece, I would deceive the hangman, for ere thou Go from me, with a sigh into thy bosome, I would convey my spirit, and leave him But a pale ghost, to mocke his execution. I cannot hold, this conflict is more fierce Then many thousand battells, canst thou dy?