Cowley, Abraham · published 1638 · first performed or written 1633 [c.1633-1636] (Annals) pastoral T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.79 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Which he will never do; nay, go and plod, Your two wise brains will invent certainly Politique gins to catch me in. And now have at thee Truga, if I find That thou art guilty; mum,— I have a ring.— Palaemon, Aegon, Hylace, Melarnus Are all against me; no great matter: hang care, For 'tis but a folly, &c. This way my Callidorus went, what chance Hath snatched him from my sight? how shall I find him? How shall I find myself, now I have lost him? With ye my feet and eyes I will not make The smallest truce, till ye have sought him out. Come, now your business. 'Tis a fatal one, Which will almost as much shame me to speak, Much more to act, as 'twill fright you to hear it. Fright me? it must be then some wickedness, I am accustomed so to misery, That cannot do't. Oh! 'Tis a sin young man, A sin which every one shall wonder at, None not condemn, if ever it be known? methinks my blood shrinks back into my veins, And my affrighted hairs are turned to bristles. Do not my eyes creep back into their cells; As if they seemed to wish for thicker darkness, Than either night or death to cover them? Doth not my face look black and horrid too? As black and horrid as my thoughts? ha! tell me. I am a novice in all villainies, If your intents be such, dismiss me, pray, My nature is more easy to discover Then help you; so, Farewell. Yet stay a little longer; you must stay: You are an actor in this Tragedy. What would you do? Alas! I would do nothing; but I must— What must you do? I must.— Love thou hast got the victory— Kill thee. Who? me? you do but jest, I should believe you, if I could tell how To frame a cause, or think on any injury Worth such a large revenge, which I have done you. Oh no! there's all the wickedness, they may seem To find excuse for their abhorred fact; That kill when wrongs, and anger urgeth them; Because thou art so good, so affable. So full of graces, both of mind and body, Therefore I kill thee, wilt thou know it plainly, Because whilst thou art living, Bellula Protested she would never be another's, Therefore I kill thee. Had I been your rival You might have had some cause; cause did I say? You might have had pretence for such a villainy: He who unjustly kills is twice a murderer. He whom love bids to kill is not a murderer. Call not that love that's ill; 'tis only fury. Fury in ills is half excusable: Therefore prepare thyself; if any sin (Though I believe thy hot and flourishing youth, As innocent as other men's nativities) Hath flung a spot upon thy purer conscience Wash it in some few tears.
nodes 2188–2253 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 34 of 41 in this edition
Length
492 words · 659 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.794 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Which he will never doe; nay, goe and plod, Your two wise braines will invent certainely Politique ginnes to catch me in. And now have at thee Truga, if I find That thou art guiltie; mum,—I have a ring.— Palaemon, Aegon, Hylace, Melarnus Are all against me; no great matter: hang care, For 'tis but a folly, &c. This way my Callidorus went, what chance Hath snatch'd him from my sight? how shall I find him? How shall I find my selfe, now I have lost him? With yee my feet and eyes I will not make The smallest truce, till yee have sought him out. Come, now your businesse. 'Tis a fatall one, Which will almost as much shame me to speake, Much more to act, as 'twill fright you to heare it. Fright me? it must be then some wickednesse, I am accustom'd so to misery, That cannot do't. Oh! 'Tis a sinne young man, A sinne which every one shall wonder at, None not condemne, if ever it be knowne? Me thinkes my bloud shrinkes back into my veines, And my affrighted hayres are turn'd to bristles. Doe not my eyes creepe backe into their cells▪ As if they seem'd to wish for thicker darknesse, Then either night or death to cover them? Doth not my face looke black and horrid too? As black and horrid as my thoughts? ha! tell me. I am a novice in all villanyes, If your intents be such, dismisse me, pray, My nature is more easie to discover Then helpe you; so, Farewell. Yet stay a little longer; you must stay▪ You are an actor in this Tragedy. What would you doe? Alas! I would doe nothing; but I must— What must you doe? I must.—Love thou hast got the victory— Kill thee. Who? me? you doe but jest, I should believe you, if I could tell how To frame a cause, or thinke on any injury Worth such a large revenge, which I have done you. Oh no! there's all the wickednesse, they may seeme To find excuse for their abhorred fact; That kill when wrongs, and anger urgeth them; Because thou art so good, so affable. So full of graces, both of mind and body, Therefore I kill thee, wilt thou know it plainely, Because whilst thou art living, Bellula Protested she would never be anothers, Therefore I kill thee. Had I beene your rivall You might have had some cause; cause did I say? You might have had pretence for such a villany: He who unjustly kills is twice a murtherer. He whom love bids to kill is not a murtherer. Call not that love that's ill; 'tis only fury. Fury in ills is halfe excusable: Therefore prepare thy selfe; if any sinne (Though I beleeve thy hot and flourishing youth, As innocent as other mens nativities) Hath flung a spot upon thy purer conscience Wash it in some few teares.