Rutter, Joseph / Corneille, Pierre · published 1637 · first performed or written 1637 [1637-1638] (Annals) not in BritDrama · before the Court unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Art thou So afraid to die? Come then, thou dost no more Than is thy duty, he's a degenerate son That will outlive one jot his father's honour. BE not so grieved, Cimena, dry thine eyes, Use now thy constancy in this misfortune, Thou'lt see't clear up after a little tempest: Thy happiness is but clouded for a while, And some small time will make thee no great loser. What can I hope now, but continual troubles, A storm so sudden coming o'er this calm Threatens a certain shipwreck to our loves: 'Tis past all doubt, I perish in the haven. I loved, was loved again, our friends agreed, And I no sooner had told you the news, But in an ill hour sprung their fatal quarrel, Which when I heard, I knew my hopes were ruined: Cursed ambition, honour pitiless, Under whose tyranny the bravest souls Do ever suffer: how many tears and sighs Must I pay for you? Thou hast no reason To fear their quarrel, which on a sudden borne, Will as soon die: there's too much noise of it To let it live. The King shall take it up, And for thy sake I'll see't shall go no farther. This business will admit no composition, Th' affronts to honour never are repaired, Wisdom or power can prevail little here; This wound will not be healed, it may be covered, And stifled hate nourishes secret fires Within the breast, but such as burn more fiercely. But th' holy knot which shall once join Cimena To Roderigo, will dissolve the hatred Of both their fathers, and the bonds of love, As being more strong, will quickly stop their discord. rather do desire, than hope it, Madam, Don Diego is too haughty, and I know My father well, of what a spirit he is. I feel my tears run, which I would retain: What's past, torments me, and I fear the sequel. Dost thou fear what a weak old man can do? Roderigo is not weak. But he's too young. Valiant young men are ever very sudden. But that thou needest not fear. He loves thee too well To anger or displease thee, one poor word Out of thy mouth, will quickly stay his heat. If he do not obey, how great's my grief? And if he do, what will men say of him, That being a Gentleman, he could put up Such an affront? so that if he resist, Or else give way to his affection, I cannot but be troubled, or ashamed At his too much respect, or just denial. Cimena's generous, and though she be Engaged, she cannot suffer a base thought. But if I make a prisoner of this lover Until this business be ta'en up betwixt them, Will not your love turn into jealousy? Ah, Madam, in this case I have no such thought. Boy, look out Roderigo, bring him hither.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Art thou So afraid to die? Come then, thou do'ſt no more Than is thy duty, he's a degenerate ſonne That will out-live one jot his fathers honour. BE not ſo griev'd, Cimena, dry thine eyes, Uſe now thy conſtancie in this misfortune, Thou'lt ſee't cleare up after a little tempeſt: Thy happineſſe is but clouded for a while, And ſome ſmall time will make thee no great loſer. What can I hope now, but continuall troubles, A ſtorme ſo ſudden comming o're this calme Threatens a certaine ſhipwracke to our loves: 'Tis paſt all doubt, I periſh in the haven. I lov'd, was lov'd againe, our friends agreed, And I no ſooner had told you the newes, But in an ill houre ſprung their fatall quarrell, Which when I heard, I knew my hopes were ruin'd: Curſed ambition, honour pittileſſe, Under whoſe tyranny the braveſt ſoules Doe ever ſuffer: how many teares and ſighs Muſt I pay for you? Thou haſt no reaſon To feare their quarrell, which on a ſudden borne, Will as ſoone die: there's too much noiſe of it To let it live. The King ſhall take it up, And for thy ſake I'le ſee't ſhall goe no farther. This buſineſſe will admit no compoſition, Th' affronts to honour never are repair'd, Wiſdome or power can prevaile little here; This wound will not be heal'd, it may be cover'd, And ſtifled hate nouriſhes ſecret fires Within the breſt, but ſuch as burne more fiercely. But th' holy knot which ſhall once joyne Cimena To Roderigo, will diſſolve the hatred Of both their fathers, and the bonds of love, As being more ſtrong, will quickly ſtop their diſcord. rath e r doe deſire, than hope it, Madam, Don Diego is too haughty, and I know My father well, of what a ſpirit he is. I feele my teares runne, which I would retaine: What's paſt, torments me, and I feare the ſequell. Do'ſt thou feare what a weake old man can doe? Roderigo is not weake. But he's too young. Valiant young men are ever very ſudden. But that thou need'ſt not feare. He loves thee too well To anger or diſpleaſe thee, one poore word Out of thy mouth, will quickly ſtay his heat. If he doe not obey, how great's my griefe? And if he doe, what will men ſay of him, That being a Gentleman, he could put up Such an affront? ſo that if he reſiſt, Or elſe give way to his affection, I cannot but be troubled, oraſham'd At his too much reſpect, or juſt deniall. Cimena's generous, and though ſhe be Ingag'd, ſhe cannot ſuffer a baſe thought. But if I make a priſoner of this lover Untill this buſineſſe be tane up betwixt them, Will not your love turne into jealouſie? Ah, Madam, in this caſe I have no ſuch thought. Boy, looke out Roderigo, bring him hither.