Berkeley, William · published 1638 · first performed or written 1637 [1637-1638] (Annals) not in BritDrama T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation typicality 0.84 · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
That he may know, that this unquestioned power Hath forced me to that error, which himself, And I, must ever mourn unpitied. Now you throw Oil upon the wound you make: I may be ignorant of all things else, But of my want of merit to deserve I am most perfect in: be happy Lady, He that enjoys you shall not need that prayer: My Father's business calls me. Let me entreat you, that you'll see a Lady, Whose virtues do deserve the honour of our knowledge. What is she? An Egyptian Lady, lately come to Cirrha. I have heard of her; they say she knows our Actions past, and future. When you know her, you will believe me, That virtue chose that dark inhabitation, To hide her Treasure from the envious world. I'll call her to your Grace. Madam, this is the Prince. You need not tell me it, though this be the first Time that I saw him since I came to Cirrha, His Fame doth make him known to all that are Remotest from him. My miseries indeed have made it great; For all things else I should be more Beholding unto silence, than the voice Of my most partial friends: Why do you gaze upon me so? Have you not lately lost a Lady that did love you dearly? If you do measure time by what I suffer, My undiminished grief tells me but now: But now I lost her, if the sad Minutes, That have oppressed me since the fatal stroke, It is an age eternity of torments I have felt. Good Sir, withdraw a little, I shall deliver What you believe, none know besides myself. Most true it is, what god that heard our Vows hath told it you? But if your eyes pierce farther in their secrets Than our weak fancies can give credit to, Tell me if where she is, she can discern and know my actions? Most perfectly she does, and mourns your loss of faith, That now begin after so many vows, So many oaths you would be only hers, To think of a new choice. This may be conspiracy. I'll try it further. Had you been snatched from her, and for her sake murdered, as she for you, your Urns cold ashes Should have hid her fire of faithful love. Pardon me my Lord. Her injured spirit inspires me with this boldness. I am certain, this is no inspiration of the gods, It cannot be she should consent, my faith Should be the ruin of my name and memory, Which necessarily must follow, if virtuous love Did not continue it to future ages. Fame of a constant lover will eternize it More than a numerous issue; would you hear herself express her sorrow? If I should desire it, it were impossible. You conclude too fast: if this night you'll come Unto her Tomb, you there shall see her.
seed 43: T14 · seed 44: T9 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
That he may know, that this unquestion'd power Hath forc'd me to that errour, which himselfe, And I, must ever mourne unpittied. Now you throw Oyle upon the wound you make: I may be ignorant of all things else, But of my want of merit to deserve I am most perfect in: be happy Lady, He that enjoyes you shall not neede that praier: My Fathers businesse calls me. Let me intreate you, that you'le see a Lady, Whose vertues doe deserve the honour of our knowledge. What is shee? An Egyptian Lady, lately come to Cirrha. I have heard of her; they say she knowes our Actions past, and future. When you know her, you will beleeve me, That vertue chose that darke inhabitation, To hide her Treasure from the envious world. Ile call her to your Grace. Madam, this is the Prince. You neede not tell me it, though this be the first Time that I saw him since I came to Cirrha, His Fame doth make him knowne to all that are Remotest from him. My miseries indeede have made it great; For all things else I should be more Beholding unto silence, than the voice Of my most partiall friends: Why doe you gaze upon me so? Have you not lately lost a Lady that did love you dearly? If you doe measure time by what I suffer, My undiminish'd griefe tells me but now: But now I lost her, if the sad Minutes, That have oppressd me since the fatall stroake, It is an age eternity of torments I have felt. Good Sir, with-draw a little, I shall deliver What you beleeve, none know besides my selfe. Most true it is, what god that heard our Vowes hath told it you? But if your eies pierce farther in their secrets Than our weake fancies can give credit to, Tell me if where she is, she can discerne and know my actions? Most perfectly she does, and mournes your losse of faith, That now beginne after so many vowes, So many oathes you would be onely hers, To thinke of a new choise. This may be conspiracy. Ile trie it further. Had you beene snacht from her, and for her sake Murther'd, as she for you, your Urnes cold ashes Should have hid her fire of faithfull love. Pardon me my Lord. Her injur'd spirit inspires me with this boldnesse. I am certaine, this is no inspiration of the gods, It cannot be she should consent, my faith Should be the ruine of my name and memory, Which necessarily must follow, if vertuous love Did not continue it to future ages. Fame of a constant lover will eternize it More than a numerous issue; would you heare Her selfe expresse her sorrow? If I should desire it, it were impossible. You conclude too fast: if this night you'le come Unto her Tombe, you there shall see her.