Shirley, James · published 1637 · first performed or written 1633 [licensed for stage, Nov 11] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.83 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I wish your confidence were not deceived, The last part of my story will concern Your faith, and sorrow. Mine? in her I share Too much, but prithee since thou hast not been Slow to wound her, let me know my affliction. The general voice is, Master Beaumont slew him, Your servant Lady. Tell the general voice It lies, my Beaumont prove a murderer? And of his friend? he would not kill an enemy. All I can say in proof of this, I saw him Guarded to Prison, pardon my relation. If thou believest thy eyes abused thee not, Thou might'st with one breath spoken 'em both dead, For the survivor lives, but to give up His life with more shame, all my comfort is, I shall not live to see it, oh Leonora, Who is most wretched now? let thou, and I, The few days that we have to live, be friends, And die in perfect charity, I must leave you To manage your own grief, I have enough To break my poor heart too. What Seas thou Upon us? I that could have died within A gentle wave, now struggle for my life, My father? What, it seems you heard the news, Come let your sorrows dry up, you may see What 'tis to be so rash, when you choose next, You'll consult me, I hope; wipe, wipe your eyes, Your tears are vain, I could say more. What sir? They are more than he deserved, and yet 'tis better Thou shouldst bestow thy tears upon his Funeral, Than I sighed at thy marriage; come, Heaven has Been kind in this divorce, preparing thus Thy better fortune, and preserving mine, I am sorry for the gentleman that killed him. Oh Murderer. You are a fool, and know not His provocation: in my youthful days, I was not patient when affronts were offered me, Nothing more dear to gentlemen, than honour. Honour in murder? This was otherwise: In my own defence I would kill a family, He showed his generous spirit, all the town Speaks nobly of him, pity him, and pray for him, And were he not desertful, by this time The general vote had hanged him. Oh, my fate! Tother a loose, and inconsiderate man, Lost in estate, and would ha' married thee, To ha' squeezed mine, 'tis better as it is. Good sir, be charitable to the dead. Be you first charitable to the living. Speak well, and think so too, you do not know What benefit may follow, and howe'er Your womanish sorrow for the present may So mist your eyes, they will hereafter open, To see, and thank my care. Indeed your language, Pardon my boldness, sir, is dark and mystical. You have your wit to apprehend sometimes, But 'tis not passion must excuse your duty to me. I hope. Your hopes may fail you if you do, Be obedient hereafter, if you please, And love my directions
nodes 939–1008 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 15 of 39 in this edition
Length
494 words · 640 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.827 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I wish your confidence were not deceav'd, The last part of my storie will concerne Your faith, and sorrow. Mine? in her I share Too much, but prethee since thou hast not beene Slow to wound her, let me know my affliction. The generall voice is, Master Beaumont slew him, Your servant Ladie. Tell the generall voice It lyes, my Beaumont prove a murderer? And of his friend? he would not kill an enemie. All I can say in proofe of this, I saw him Guarded to Prison, pardon my relation. If thou beleevest thy eyes abus'd thee not, Thou might'st with one breath spoken 'em both dead, For the survivor lives, but to give up His life with more shame, all my comfort is, I shall not live to see it, oh Leonora, Who is most wretched now? let thou, and I, The few dayes that we have to live, be friends, And die in perfect charitie, I must leave you To manage your owne griefe, I have enough To breake my poore heart too. What Seas breake-in Upon us? I that could have dyed within A gentle wave, now struggle for my life, My father? What, it seemes you heard the newes, Come let your sorrowes drie up, you may see What 'tis to be so rash, when you chuse next, You'le consult me, I hope; wipe, wipe your eyes, Your teares are vaine, I could say more. What sir? They are more then he deserv'd, and yet tis better Thou shouldst bestow thy teares upon his Funerall, Then I sigh'd at thy marriage; come, Heaven has Beene kinde in this divorce, preparing thus Thy better fortune, and preserving mine, I am sorrie for the gentleman that kild him. Oh Murderer. You are a foole, and know not His provocation: in my youthfull dayes, I was not patient when affronts were offred me, Nothing more deere to gentlemen, then honor. Honor in murder? This was otherwise: In my owne defence I would kill a family, He shew'd his generous spirit, all the towne Speakes noblie of him, pity him, and pray for him, And were he not desertfull, by this time The generall vote had hang'd him. Oh, my fate! Tother a loose, and inconsiderate man, Lost in estate, and would ha married thee, To ha squees'd mine, 'tis better as it is. Good sir, be charitable to the dead. Be you first charitable to the living. Speake well, and thinke so too, you do not know What benefit may follow, and how ere Your womanish sorrow for the present may So mist your eyes, they will hereafter open, To see, and thanke my care. Indeede your language, Pardon my boldnesse, sir, is darke and mysticall. You have your wit to apprehend sometimes, But 'tis not passion must excuse your dutie to me. I hope. Your hopes may faile you if you doe, Be obedient hereafter, if you please, And love my directions