Berkeley, William · published 1638 · first performed or written 1637 [1637-1638] (Annals) not in BritDrama T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm typicality 0.78 · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Oh gods, deny me not a death, since you Have given me the tortures that devance it: If I deserve this, your inflicting hands Do reach unto the shades, lay it on there, Hermione, Irene, is Eysicles yet come? Yes, to counsel you to pacify The gods you have offended by your cursed Arts: The blessed Ghost you sent me too, has told me Some sad effects on't, and in her name, And cause, have the gods hurled this punishment On thy foul soul, and made my grief enraged To madness, the blessed instrument of thy destruction, Which does but here begin. You then did send the poison, with the Present I received? Yes, I did; and wonder you durst tempt My just revenge, unless you did believe You could confine the Revelations Of the best spirits, your cursed Charms Betrayed first, and then enforced to leave Their happy seats, to perfect the designs Your malice laboured in. What unknown ways have the gods invented To punish me! I feel a torment No tyranny e'er paralleled, yet must confess An obligation to him that imposed it. Good gods! if I do bow under your wills, Without repining at your sad decrees, Grant this to recompense my martyrdom, That he that is the Author of my sufferings, May never learn his error. Sir, if torments e'er could expiate the crimes We have committed, mine might challenge your pardon And your pity: I feel Death entering me; Love the memory of your Mylesia, and forgive— Help, help, she dies. If it be possible, call life into her for some minutes, Her full confession will absolve my Justice. Bring some water here, she does but swoon: So chafe her Temples,— Oh Heavens! what prodigy Is here! her blackness falls away: My Lord, look on This Miracle, doth not Heaven instruct us in pity Of her wrongs, that the opinions which prejudice Her virtue, should thus be washed away with the Black clouds that hide her purer form? Heaven hath some further ends in this Than we can pierce: More water, she returns to life, And all the blackness of her face is gone. PALLAS, APOLLO, what may this portend? My Lord, Have you not seen a face like this? Yes, and horror seizeth me: 'Tis the Idea Of my Milesia. Impenetrable powers, Deliver us in Thunder your intents, And exposition of this Metamorphosis. She stirs. Hold her up gently— He kneels. Oh, oh; why do you kneel to me: Are not you MILESIA? Why do you ask? Oh then you are. My Lysicles, I am by miracle preserved, Though since the gods repent them of their succours. Knowing me unworthy of thy firm constant love: I never thought that death could be a terror Too long acquainted with the miseries Pursue our lives, but now the apprehension My grave should swallow thee, makes me to welcome it With a heaviness that sinks despairing sinners. Pour down your Thunder gods, upon this head,
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)
Oh gods, deny me not a death, since you Have given me the tortures that devance it: If I deserve this, your inflicting hands Doe reach unto the shades, lay it on there, Hermioue, Jrene, is Eysicles yet come? Yes, to counsell you to pacifie The gods you have offended by your cursed Arts: The blessed Ghost you sent me too, has told me Some sad effects on't, and in her name, And cause, have the gods hurl'd this punishment On thy foule soule, and made my griefe inrag'd To madnesse, the blest instrument of thy destruction, Which does but here begin. You then did send the poison, with the Present I receiv'd? Yes, I did; and wonder you durst tempt My just revenge, unlesse you did beleeve You could confine the Revelations Of the best spirits, your cursed Charmes Betray'd first, and then inforc'd to leave Their happy seates, to perfect the designes Your malice labour'd in. What unknowne waies have the gods invented To punish me! I feele a torment No tyranny e'reparalell'd, yet must confesse An obligation to him that impos'd it. Good gods! if I doe bow under your wills, Without repining at your sad decrees, Grant this to recompence my Martyrdome, That he that is the Author of my sufferings, May never learne his errour. Sir, if torments e're could expiate the crimes We have committed, mine might chalenge your pardon And your pitty: I feele Death entring me; Love the memory of your Mylesia, and forgive— Helpe, helpe, she dyes. If it be possible, call life into her for some minutes, Her full confession will obsolve my Justice. Bring some water here, she does but swoone: So chafe her Temples,—Oh Heavens! what prodigy Is here! her blacknesse falls away: My Lord, looke on This Miracle, doth not Heaven instruct us in pitty Ofher wrongs, that the opinions which prejudice Her vertue, should thus be wash't away with the Blacke clouds that hide her purer forme? Heaven hath some further ends in this Than we can pierce: More water, she returnes to life, And all the blacknesse of her face is gone. PALLAS, APOLLO, what may this portend? My Lord, Have you not seene a face like this? Yes, and horrour ceazeth me: 'Tis the Idea Of my Milesia. Impenetrable powers, Deliver us in Thunder your intents, And exposition of this Metamorphosis. She stirres. Hold her up gently—He kneeles. Oh, oh; why doe you kneele to me: Are not you MILESIA? Why doe you aske? Oh then you are. My Lysicles, I am by miracle preserv'd, Though since the gods repent them of their succours. Knowing me unworthy of thy firme constant love: I never thought that death could be a terrour Too long acquainted with the miseries Pursue our lives, but now the apprehension My grave should swallow thee, makes me to welcome it With a heavinesse that sinkes dispairing sinners. Powre downe your Thunder gods, upon this head,