Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1624 [1624-1625] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Globe T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.82 · 470 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Heaven pardon all, How many thousands in our heat of wine, Quarrels and play, and in our younger days (In private, I may say) between ourselves In points of love, have we to answer for, Should we be scrupulous that way. You say well, And very aptly call to memory Two oaths against all ties and rites of friendship Broken by you to me. No more of that. Yes 'tis material, and to the purpose The first (and think upon't) was when I brought you As a visitant to my mistress then, the mother Of this same daughter, whom with dreadful words Too hideous to remember, you swore deeply For my sake never to attempt, yet then, Then, when you had a sweet wife of your own, I know not with what arts, philtres, and charms, (Unless in wealth and fame you were above me) You won her from me, and her grant obtained, A marriage with the second waited on, The burial of the first (that to the world Brought your dead son) this I sat tamely down by, Wanting indeed occasion and power To be at the height revenged. Yet this you seemed Freely to pardon. As perhaps I did. Your daughter Theocrine growing ripe, (Her mother too deceased) and fit for marriage I was a suitor for her, had your word Upon your honour, and our friendship made Authentical, and ratified with an oath, She should be mine, but vows with you being like To your religion, a nose of wax To be turned every way, that very day The governor's son but making his approaches Of Courtship to her, the wind of your ambition For her advancement scattered the thin sand In which you wrote your full consent to me, And drew you to his party. What hath passed since You bear a register in your own bosom That can at large inform you. Montrevile I do confess all that you charge me with To be strong truth, and that I bring a cause Most miserably guilty, and acknowledge That though your goodness made me mine own judge I should not show the least compassion, Or mercy to myself. O let not yet My foulness taint your pureness, or my falsehood Divert the torrent of your loyal faith. My ills, if not returned by you, will add Lustre to your much good, and to o'ercome With noble sufferance will express your strength, And triumph o'er my weakness. If you please to My black deeds being only known to you, And in surrendering up my daughter buried: You not alone make me your slave (for I At no part do deserve the name of friend) But in your own breast raise a monument Of pity to a wretch on whom with justice You may express all cruelty.
nodes 2353–2416 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 34 of 37 in this edition
Length
470 words · 578 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.818 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Heaven pardon all, How many thousands in our heate of wine, Quarrels and play, and in our younger daies (In private, I may say) betweene our selves In points of love, have we to answer for, Should we be scrupulous that way. You say well, And very aptly call to memory Two oathes against all ties and rites of friendship Broken by you to me. No more of that. Yes tis materiall, and to the purpose The first (and think upon't) was when I brought you As a visitant to my mistresse then, the mother Of this same daughter, whom with dreadfull words Too hideous to remember, you swore deepely For my sake never to attempt, yet then, Then, when you had a sweet wife of your owne, I know not with what arts, philtres, and charmes, (Unlesse in wealth and fame you were above me) You won her from me, and her grant obtain'd, A marriage with the second wayted on, The buriall of the first (that to the world Brought your dead son) this I sate tamely down by, Wanting indeed occasion and power To be at the height revenged. Yet this you seem'd Freely to pardon. As perhaps I did. Your daughter Theocrine growing ripe, (Her mother too deceas'd) and fit for marriage I was a suitor for her, had your word Upon your honour, and our friendship made Authenticall, and ratified with an oath, Shee should be mine, but vowes with you being like To your religion, a nose of wax To be turn'd every way, that very day The governours sonne but making his approaches Of Courtship to her, the winde of your ambition For her advancement scatter'd the thin sand In which you wrot your full consent to me, And drew you to his party. What hath pas'd since You beare a register in your owne bosome That can at large informe you. Montrevile I doe confesse all that you charge me with To be strong truth, and that I bring a cause Most miserably guilty, and acknowledge That though your goodnesse made me mine owne judge I should not shew the least compassion, Or mercy to my selfe. O let not yet My foulenesse int your puresse, or my falshood Divert the torrent of your loyall faith. My ills, if not return'd by you, will adde Lustre to your much good, and to orcome With noble sufferance will expresse your strength, And triumph ore my weakenesse. If you please to My blacke deeds being onely knowne to you, And in surrendring up my daughter buried: You not alone make me your ve (for I At no part doe deserve the name of friend) But in your owne brest raise a monument Of ty to a wretch on whom with justice You may expresse all cruelty.