Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1624 [1624-1625] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
They are at it. That thrust was put strongly home. But with more strength avoided. Wellcome in, He has drawn blood of him yet, well done old Cock. That was a strange miss. That a certain hit. he's fall'n, the day is ours. The Admiral's slain. The father is victorious! Let us haste To gratulate his conquest. 1. we to mourn The fortune of the son. With utmost speed Acquaint the Governor with the good success, That he may entertain to his full merit, The father of his country's peace and safety. Were a new life hid in each mangled limb, I would search, and find it. And howe'er to some I may seem cruel, thus to tyrannize Upon this senseless flesh, I glory in it. That I have power to be unnatural, Is my security, die all my fears, And waking jealousies, which have so long Been my tormentors, there's now no suspicion; A fact, which I alone am conscious of, Can never be discovered, or the cause That called this Duel on. I being above All perturbations, nor is it in The power of Fate, again to make me wretched. All honour to the Conqueror. Who dares tax My friend of treachery now? I am very glad, Sir, You have sped so well. But I must tell you thus much, To put you in mind that a low ebb must follow Your high swollen tide of happiness, you have purchased this hour at a high price. 'Tis Belgarde's, Above all estimation, and a little To be exalted with it cannot savour Of arrogance: that to this arm and sword, Marseilles owes the freedom of her fears, Or that my loyalty not long since eclipsed, Shines now more bright than ever, are not things to be lamented. Though indeed they may Appear too dearly bought, my falling glories Being made up again, and cemented With a son's blood. 'Tis true, he was my son While he was worthy, but when he shook off His duty to me, (which my fond indulgence Upon submission might perhaps have pardoned) And grew his Counties enemy, I looked on him As a Stranger to my family, and a Traitor Justly proscribed, and he to be rewarded That could bring in his head. I know in this That I am censured rugged and austere, That will vouchsafe not one sad sigh or tear Upon his slaughtered body. But I rest Well satisfied in myself, being assured That extraordinary virtues, when they soar Too high a pitch for common fights to judge of, Losing their proper splendour, are condemned For most remarkable vices. 'tis too true, Sir, In the opinion of the multitude: But for myself that would be held your friend, And hope to know you by a nearer name, They are as they deserve, received. My daughter Shall thank you for the favour. I can wish No happiness beyond it. Shall we have leave To bear the corpse of our dead Admiral, As he enjoined us from this Coast?
seed 43: T62 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
They are at it. That thrust was put strongly home. But with more strength avoyded. Wellcome in, He has drawne bloud of him yet, well done old Cocke. That was a strange misse. That a certaine hit. Hee's falne, the day is ours. The Admiral's slaine. The father is victorious! Let us haste To gratulate his conquest. 1. Wee to mourne The fortune of the sonne. With utmost speed Acquaint the Governour with the good successe, That he may entertaine to his full merit, The father of his Countries peace and safetie. Were a new life hid in each mangled limbe, I would search, and finde it. And howere to some I may seeme cruell, thus to tyrannize Upon this senslesse flesh, I glorie in it. That I have power to be unnaturall, Is my securitie, die all my feares, And waking jealousies, which have so long Beene my tormentors, theres now no suspition; A fact, which I alone am conscious of, Can never be discover'd, or the cause That call'd this Duell on. I being above All perturbations, nor is it in The power of Fate, againe to make me wretched. All honour to the Conquerour. Who dares tax My friend of treacherie now? I am verie glad, Sir, You have sped so well. But I must tell you thus much, To put you in minde that a low ebbe must follow Your high swolne tide of happinesse, you have purchast this our at a high price. 'Tis Belgards, Above all estimation, and a little To be exalted with it cannot savour Of arrogance: that to this arme and sword, Marellis owes the freedome of her feares, Or that my loyaltie not long since eclips'd, Shines now more bright than ever, are not things to be lamented. Though indeed they may Appeare too dearely bought, my falling glories Being made up againe, and cemented With a sonnes bloud. 'Tis true, he was my sonne While he was worthy, but when he shooke off His dutie to me, (which my fond indulgence Upon submission might perhaps have pardon'd) And grew his Counties enemie, I look'd on him As a Stranger to my family, and a Traytor Justly proscrib'd, and he to be rewarded That could bring in his head. I know in this That I am censur'd rugged and austere, That will vouchsafe not one sad sigh or teare Vpon his slaughter'd body. But I rest Well satisfi'd in my selfe, being assur'd That extraordinarie vertues, when they soare Too high a pitch for common fights to judge of, Losing their proper splendour, are condemn'd For most remarkable vices. Tis too true, Sir, In the opinion of the multitude: But for my selfe that would be held your friend, And hope to know you by a nearer name, They are as they deserve, receiv'd. My daughter Shall thanke you for the favour. I can wish No happinesse beyond it. Shall we have leave To beare the corps of our dead Admirall, As he enjoyn'd us from this Coast?