Shirley, James · published 1637 · first performed or written 1633 [licensed for stage, Jul 3] (Annals) tragicomedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
The Princess desires to speak with you Desires to speak with me!— you have not told her? d'ee think I would betray you. Would somebody would challenge me to fight before her, if the Ladies knew I were stick free they would tear me in pieces for my company. You do not know, what you may get by your body that way, I attend you. Knives, daggers, swords, pikes, guns both great & small Now Pazzarello doth defy you all. You tell me wonders, my son General Of all the enemies' Forces, can Vittori Lay such a stain upon our family, Speak it my Lord no more, no private injury Can so corrupt his nature; come, I know He dares not fight their cause! I think so too; The Prince hath cooled his resolution By this time. Ha? you are mystical. He has sent Him word, the first attempt he makes against The town your head must answer it, and I cannot Believe howe'er particular wrongs inflame him To a revenge, but he retains that piety Which nature printed in him toward a Father. Is obligation to a parent more Than that we owe our Country, oh Vittori, My life were profitably spent to save Thy honour, which is great in the world's eye, Time shall be grieved to have preserved thy name So long, and when this blot shall be observed Upon the last leaf of thy Chronicle, It shall unsettle quite the reader's faith To all the former story. Iulio. My Lord? It was the king's command I should deliver. What? What must displease you, You must prepare for death. Has my son put Rebellion into act already? that Will save my executioner a labour, He has, I read it, look into the tombs Of all our ancestors, and see their ashes Look paler than before, the Marble sweats, The ebony pillars that so many years Sustained our titles shake, and sink beneath 'em, The Genius of our house groans at this treason, I will not live for any man to tell me I am Vittory's Father. Here the Prince! Forgive me sir my passions, I have guilt Enough without 'em to deserve your anger, He was my son, and that must needs condemn me; But I will lose him from my blood, and cut His name from that fair list, that numbers up Our family, but I forget myself, I have no minutes at command, my life Is at the last sand, and I cannot stay, Be just, and purge Vittory's sin with his Old Father's blood, I do obey your doom. What doom? you talk as you were destined To some black execution, I have Been too unkind already, and must ask Your gentle pardon for't, by goodness self I mock not, I bring life Alphonso to thee, And but prepared by Iulio, thy heart With sorrow, to meet honour with more taste.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T9 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The Princesse desires to speak with you Desires to speake with me!—you have not told her? Dee thinke I would betray you. Would somebody would challenge mee to fight before her, if the Ladies knew I were sticke free they would teare me in peeces for my company. You do not know, what you may get by your body that way, I attend you. Knives, daggers, swords, pikes, gunnes both great & small Now Pazzarello doth defie you all. You tell me wonders, my sonne Generall Of all the enemies Forces, can Vittori Lay such a staine upon our family, Speake it my Lord no more, no private injury Can so corrupt his nature; come, I know He dares not fight their cause! I thinke so too; The Prince hath coold his resolution By this time. Ha? you are misticall. He has sent Him word, the first attempt he makes against The towne your head must answere it, and I cannot Beleeve how ere particular wrongs inflame him To a revenge, but he retaines that piety Which nature printed in him toward a Father. Is obligation to a parent more Then that we owe our Country, oh Vittori, My life were profitably spent to save Thy honour, which is great in the worlds eye, Time shall be grieved to have preserv'd thy name So long, and when this blot shall be observ'd Vpon the last leafe of thy Chronicle, It shall unsettle quite the readers faith To all the former story. Iulio. My Lord? It was the Kings command I should deliver. What? What must displease you, You must prepare for death. Has my sonne put Rebellion into act already? that Will save my executioner a labour, He has, I read it, looke into the tombes Of all our ancestours, and see their ashes Looke paler then before, the Marble sweates, The Eboine pillars that so many yeares Sustain'd our titles shake, and sinke beneath em, The Genius of our house grones at this treason, I will not live for any man to tell me I am Vittories Father. Here the Prince! Forgive me sir my passions, I have guilt Enough without em to deserve your anger, He was my sonne, and that must needes condemne me; But I will loose him from my bloud, and cut His name from that faire list, that numbers up Our family, but I forget my selfe, I have no minutes at command, my life Is at the last sand, and I cannot stay, Be just, and purge Vittories sinne with his Old Fathers bloud, I do obey your doome. What doome? you talke as you were destin'd To some blacke execution, I have Beene too unkinde already, and must aske Your gentle pardon fort, by goodnesse selfe I mocke not, I bring life Alphonso to thee, And but prepar'd by Iulio, thy heart With sorrow, to meete honour with more tast.