Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1624 [1624-1625] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
Why have you done that which I dare not speak, And in the action changed the humble shape Of my obedience, to rebellious rage And insolent pride? and with shut eyes constrained me To run my Bark of honour on a shelf, I must not see, nor if I saw it, shun it? In my wrongs nature suffers, and looks backward, And mankind trembles to see me pursue What beasts would fly from. For when I advance This sword, as I must do against your head, Piety will weep, and filial duty mourn, To see their altars which you built up in me, In a moment razed and ruined, that you could (From my grieved soul I wish it) but produce To qualify, not excuse your deed of horror, Our seeming reason that I might fix here, And move no father. Have I so far lost A father's power, that I must give account Of my actions to my son? or must I plead As a fearful prisoner at the bar, while he That owes his being to me sirs a Judge To censure that, which only by myself Ought to be questioned? mountains sooner fall Beneath their valleys, and the lofty Pine Pay homage to the Bramble, or what else is Preposterous in nature, ere my tongue In one short syllable yields satisfaction To any doubt of thine, nay though it were A certainty disdaining argument. Since though my deeds wore Hell's black livery, To thee they should appear triumphal robes, Set off with glorious honour, thou being bound To see with my eyes, and to hold that reason, That takes or birth or fashion from my will. This sword divides that slavish knot. It cannot, It cannot wretch, and if thou but remember From whom thou hadst this spirit, thou dar'st not hope it. Who trained thee up in arms but I? Who taught thee Men were men only when they durst look down With scorn on death and danger, and contemned All opposition, till plumed victory Had made her constant stand upon their helmets? Under my shield thou hast fought as securely As the young Eglet, covered with the wings Of her fierce Dam, learns how and where to prey. All that is manly in thee, I call mine; But what is weak and womanish, thine own. And what I gave, since thou art proud, ungrateful, Presuming to contend with him, to whom Submission is due, I will take from thee. Look therefore for extremities, and expect not I will correct thee as a son, but kill thee As a Serpent swollen with poison, who surviving A little longer, with infections breath, Would render all things near him, like itself Contagious. Nay, now my anger's up, Ten thousand virgins kneeling at my feet, And with one general cry howling for mercy, Shall not redeem thee. Thou incensed Power, A while forbear thy thunder, let me have No aid in my revenge, if from the grave My mother. Thou shalt never name her more.
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)
Why have you done that which I dare not speake, And in the action chang'd the humble shape Of my obedience, to rebellious rage And insolent pride? and with shut eyes constrain'd me To run my Barke of honour on a shelfe, I must not see, nor if I saw it, shun it? In my wrongs nature suffers, and lookes backward, And mankinde trembles to see me pursue What beasts would flie from. For when I advance This sword, as I must doe against your head, Pietie will weepe, and filiall dutie mourne, To see their altars which you built up in me, In a moment raz'd and ruin'd, that you could (From my griev'd soule I wish it) but produce To qualifie, not excuse your deed of horror, Ou seeming reason that I might fix here, And move no father. Have I so far lost A fathers power, that I must give account Of my actions to my sonne? or must I plead As a fearefull prisoner at the bar, while he That owes his being to me sirs a Judge To censure that, which onely by my selfe Ought to be question'd? mountaines sooner fall Beneath their vallies, and the loftie Pine Pay homage to the Bramble, or what else is Preposterous in nature, ere my tongue In one short fillable yeelds satisfaction To any doubt of thine, nay though it were A certaintie disdaining argument. Since though my deeds wore Hel blacke liverie, To thee they should appeare triumphall robes, Set off with glorious honour, thou being bound To see with my eyes, and to hold that reason, That takes or birth or fashion from my will. This sword divides that slavish knot. It cannot, It cannot wretch, and if thou but remember From whom thou hadst this spirit, thou dar'st not hope it. Who train'd thee up in armes but I? Who taught thee Men were men onely when they durst looke downe With scorne on death and danger, and contemn'd All opposition, till plum'd victorie Had made her constant stand upon their helmets? Under my shield thou hast fought as securely As the young Eglet, covered with the wings Of her fierce Dam, learnes how and where to prey. All that is manly in thee, I call mine; But what is weake and womanish, thine owne. And what I gave, since thou art proud, ungratefull, Presuming to contend with him, to whom Submission is due, I will take from thee. Looke therefore for extremities, and expect not I will correct thee as a sonne, but kill thee As a Serpent swolne with poyson, who surviving A little longer, with infections breath, Would render all things neere him, like it selfe Contagious. Nay, now my anger's up, Ten thousand virgins kneeling at my feet, And with one generall crie howling for mercie, Shall not redeeme thee. Thou incensed Power, A while forbeare thy thunder, let me have No aid in my revenge, if from the grave My mother. Thou shalt never name her more.