Rutter, Joseph / Corneille, Pierre · published 1637 · first performed or written 1637 [1637-1638] (Annals) not in BritDrama · before the Court T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.86 · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
To give them truce, is to increase them more. WHat mean you Roderigo? whither would you? I would pursue the course of my sad fortune. But this is a strange boldness, to appear In the same place which you have filled with mourning, Come you t' affront the ghost of the dead Count? Have not you slain him? His life was my disgrace, Mine honour at my hands required dis death. But in the house of death to look for refuge, Did ever homicide make that his Asilum? Did never any murderer present Himself unto his Judge? ne'er wonder at me, I come to seek for that I gave another, That's death; my love Cimena is my Judge. When I deserved her hate, I deserved death, And for that cause I stand here to receive My sentence from her mouth, death from her hand. Fly rather from her sight, and do not meet With the first motions of her grief and anger, Why, would you more inflame her present passion? No, that dear object which I durst displease, To punish me cannot have too much passion; I should be happy if I could augment it, And hasten so my death from her fair hand. Cimena's at the Court, bathed in her tears, And will return thence with much company. For heaven's sake fly: what will men's censures say If y'are discovered here? they must report Cimena t' have received into her house Th' Assassin of her father. Hark, she comes, It is her voice: at least, Roderigo, To save her reputation, hide yourself. I madam, never think of any other But bloody sacrifices: your anger's just And your grief lawful, for my part madam I'll neither go about to pacify Or comfort you; but if my present service Can be of use to you; employ my Sword To cut out your revenge; from your commands My heart takes courage, and my arm its strength. O me unfortunate! madam accept my service. I shall offend the King then who has promised To do me Justice. But you know, justice Is so slow paced and languishing, that seldom It overtakes the crime; the wrong was done By th'sword, then let a Cavalier revenge it By the sword again: It is the readiest way. 'Tis the last remedy, but if it must Arrive at that, and this your noble pity Of my misfortunes do continue with you, I shall then give you the freedom you desire. It is the only happiness I wish, So having hopes to see't, I take my leave. AT length I find I'm free to open to thee The sadness of my soul, and to give way to my deep sighs, which else would stifle me. My father's dead, Eluira, the first sword That Roderigo used has cut his thread, Weep, weep mine eyes, melt into tears my brain Half of my life, the other half has slain, And 'tis me to revenge on what is left, That part of which by this I am bereft.
before the Court;Phoenix/Cockpit;Indoor Professional
Genre (British Drama)
not in BritDrama
Play type
Boys Professional;Professional;Translation
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 1059 · TCP A19346 · DEEP 878
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 684–748 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 12 of 27 in this edition
Length
507 words · 655 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.857 (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)
To give them truce, is to increaſe them more. WHat meane you Roderigo? whither would you? I would purſue the courſe of my ſad fortune. But this is a ſtrange boldneſſe, to appeare In the ſame place which you have fill'd with mourning, Come you t' affront the ghoſt of the dead Count? Have not you ſlaine him? His life was my diſgrace, Mine honour at my hands requir'd dis death. But in the houſe of death to looke for refuge, Did ever homicide make that his Aſilum? Did never any murderer preſent Himſelfe unto his Judge? ne're wonder at me, I come to ſeeke for that I gave another, That's death; my love Cimena is my Judge. When I deſerv'd her hate, I deſerv'd death, And for that cauſe I ſtand here to receive My ſentence from her mouth, death from her hand. Flie rather from her ſight, and doe not meet With the firſt motions of her griefe and anger, Why, would you more enflame her preſent paſſion? No, that deare object which I durſt diſpleaſe, To puniſh me cannot have too much paſſion; I ſhould be happy if I could augment it, And haſten ſo my death from her faire hand. Cimena's at the Court, bath'd in her teares, And will returne thence with much company. For heavens ſake flie: what will mens cenſures ſay If y' are diſcover'd here? they muſt report Cimena t' have receiv'd into her houſe Th' Aſſaſſin of her father. Harke, ſhe comes, It is her voice: at leaſt, Roderigo, To ſave her reputation, hide your ſelfe. I Madame, never thinke of any other But bloudy ſacrifices: your anger's juſt And your griefe lawfull, for my part Madame I'le neither goe about to pacifie Or comfort you; but if my preſent ſervice Can be of uſe to you; imploy my Sword To cut out your revenge; from your commands My heart takes courage, and my arme its ſtrength. O me unfortunate! Madame accept my ſervice. I ſhall offend the King then who has promis'd To doe me Juſtice. But you know, juſtice Is ſo ſlow pac'd and languiſhing, that ſeldome It overtakes the crime; the wrong was done By th'ſword, then let a Cavalier revenge it By the ſword againe: It is the readieſt way. 'Tis the laſt remedy, but if it muſt Arive at that, and this your noble pitty Of my misfortunes doe continue with you, I ſhall then give you the freedom you deſire. It is the onely happineſſe I wiſh, So having hopes to ſee't, I take my leave. AT length I find I'me free to open to thee The fadneſſe of my ſoule, and to give way to my deep ſighs, which elſe would ſtifle me. My fathers dead, Eluira, the firſt ſword That Roderigo us'd has cut his thred, Weepe, weepe mine eyes, melt into teares my braine Halfe of my life, the other halfe has ſlaine, And ty's me to revenge on what is left, That part of which by this I am bereft.