Berkeley, William · published 1638 · first performed or written 1637 [1637-1638] (Annals) not in BritDrama unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 472 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
Prince LYSICLES labours to recall him. By all means, he was by in the noised battle, saw the Prince cleave this man to the twist, divide a second, overthrow A third, he is his Trumpet. His actions need none. Wilt thou be happy CLEON, believe not Fame So far, as to make thyself less than another man, There were thousands that served for six Sesterces, That did more than both; yet sleep forgotten: 'Tis Now time to meet the Ladies on the walk. I do profane this place, for were my griefs As great as I would boast'em, I could not live To tell them to the World: Or is the passage which my soul should make Shut up with sorrow? 'Tis so, and a joy, A hopeful joy, to meet her must give freedom To my sad prisoner, when my hand shall lead This dagger to his heart, that parted ours. And Heaven that hears this vow, pour on my head Dire thunder, if I shrink in what I promise: And sacred'st Saint, if from thy place of rest, Thou turn'st thy eyes upon thy holy Relics, Accept my vows, and pardon me the life Of the cursed Homicide, a full revenge Of thy Death, and my life's misery, Shall make him pay the time he has outlived My happiness; and when he is fall'n, Present thyself in all thy glories to me, That my freed soul may owe her liberty To no force but impatient longing Of re-enjoying thee; and holy Tomb, The Altar where my heart is nightly offered, Let my winged love have passage through thy marble, And fan the sacred ashes, knowing no heat, But what he takes from them; so peace and rest Dwell ever with thee. Dear HERMIONE, pinch me or I shall sink with laughter. What said the stranger? PHILLIDA, I did not hear it? Nothing madam. Then he did talk by signs, he was long about it: What was't, IRENE? He long importuned her to show her face, which After many urgings she consented to; and he in Recompense made a low Reverence to her, and Then thanks her for the great favour, and Concludes he never did receive so great a one From any woman, since all else have done with them A reference to themselves: but hers was merely Goodness, for before he saw her be might Have suspected her face handsomely hid, for a Piece of beauty, if her virtue would have Suffered him to be longer in that error. I would I were a man for his sake. So you told him, and he still courteous for All your anger, promised to give you what you Wanted of a Man, or teach you how to make one. Thou wilt never be old wench, if thou still Keep'st this humour.
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)
Prince LYSICLES labours to recall him. By all meanes, he was by in the nois'd battle, saw the Prince cleave this man to the twist, divide a second, overthrow A third, he is his Trumpet. His actions need none. Wilt thou be happy CLEON, beleeve not Fame So farre, as to make thy selfe lesse than another man, There were thousands that served for sixe Sestersce, That did more than both; yet sleepe forgotten: 'Tis Now time to meet the Ladies on the walke. I doe prophane this place, for were my griefes As great as I would boast'em, I could not live To tell them to the World: Or is the passage which my soule should make Shut up with sorrow? 'Tis so, and a joy, A hopefull joy, to meete her must give freedome To my sad prisoner, when my hand shall lead This dagger to his heart, that parred ours. And Heaven that heares this vow, powre on my head Dire thunder, if I shrinke in what I promise: And sacred'st Saint, if from thy place ofrest, Thou turn'st thy eyes upon thy holy Relickes, Accept my vowes, and pardon me the life Of the curst Homicide, a full revenge Of thy Death, and my lives misery, Shall make him pay the time he has out-liv'd My happinesse; and when he is falne, Present thy selfe in all thy glories to me, That my freed soule may owe her liberty To no force but impatient longing Of re-injoying thee; and holy Tombe, The Altar where my heart is nightly offered, Let my wing'd love have passage through thy marble, And fan the sacred ashes, knowing no heate, But what he takes from them; so peace and rest Dwell ever with thee. Deare HERMIONE, pinch me or I shal sink with laughter. What said the stranger? PHILLIDA, I did not heare it? Nothing madam. Then he did talke by signes, he was long about it: What was't, IRENE? He long importun'd her to shew her face, which After many urgings she consented to; and he in Recompence made a low Revernce to her, and Then thankes her for the great favour, and Concludes he never did receive so great a one From any woman, since all else have done with them A reference to themselves: but hers was meerely Goodnesse, for before he saw her be might Have suspected her face handsomely hid, for a Peece of beanty, if her vertue would have Suffered him to be longer in that errour. I would I were a man for his sake. So you told him, and he still courteous for All your anger, promis'd to give you what you Wanted of a Man, or teach you how to make one. Thou wilt never be old wench, if thou still Keep'st this humour.