Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1624 [1624-1625] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 450 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
You much move me. O that I could but hope it, to revenge An injury is proper to the wishes Of feeble women, that want strength to act it: But to have power to punish, and yet pardon Peculiar to Princes, see these knees, That have been ever stiff to bend to heaven To you are supple, Is there ought beyond this That may speak my submission? or can pride (Though I well know it is a stranger to you) Desire a feast of more humility To kill her growing appetite? I required not To be sought to this poor way, yet 'tis so far A kind of satisfaction that I will Dispense a little with those serious oaths You made me take, your daughter shall come to you, I will not say as you delivered her, But as she is you may dispose of her As you shall think most requisite. His last words are riddles to me. Here the lion's force Would have proved useless and against my nature Compelled me from the Crocodile to borrow Her counterfeit tears, there's now May I but quench these fires that rage within me, And fall what can fall, I am armed to bear is, You must be packing Hath he robbed me of Mine honour, and denies me now a room To hide my shame? My Lord the Admiral Attends your Ladyship. Close the port, and leave 'em. Ha! who is this? how altered! how deformed! It cannot be. And yet this creature has A kind of a resemblance to my daughter, My Theocrine! but as different From that she was, as bodies dead are in Their best perfections, from what they were When they had life and motion. 'tis most true fir, I am dead indeed to all but misery. O come not near me sir, I am infectious, To look on me at distance is as dangerous As from a pinnacle's cloud-kissing spire, With giddy eyes to view the steep descent But to acknowledge me a certain ruin. O sir. Speak Theocrine, force me not To farther question, my fears already Have choked my vital spirits. Pray you turn away Your face and hear me, and with my last breath Give me leave to accuse you. What offence From my first infancy did I commit That for a punishment you should give up My Virgin chastity to the treacherous guard Of Goatish Montrevile? What hath be done? Abused me fir by violence, and this told I cannot live to speak more: may the cause In you find pardon, but the speeding curse Of a ravished maid fall heavy, heavy on him, Beaufort my lawful love, farewell for ever.
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)
You much move me. O that I could but hope it, to revenge An injurie is proper to the wishes Of feeble women, that want strength to act it: But to have power to punish, and yet pardon Peculiar to Princes, see these knees, That have beene ever iffe to bend to heaven To you are supple, Is there ought beyond this That may speake my submission? or can pride (Though I well know it is a stranger to you) Desire a feast of more humility To kill her growing appetit? I requir'd not To be sought to this poore way, yet tis so far A kind of satisfaction that I will Dispence a little with those serious oths You made me take, your daughter shall come to you, I will not say as you deliverd her, But as she is you may dpose of her As you shall thinke most requisite. His last words are niddles to me. Here the lyo force Would have prov'd uselesse and against my nature Compeld me from the Crocodile to borrow Her counterfeit , ther May I but quench these fires th rage , And fall what can fall, I am to is, You must be packing Hath he ob'd me of Mine honour, and denies me now a roome To hide my shame? My Lord the Admirall Attends your Ladiship. Close the port, and leave . Ha! who is this? how alter'd! how deform'd! It cannot be. And yet this creature has A kinde of a resemblance to my dghter, My Theocrine! but as different From that she was, as bodies dead are Their best perfections, from what they were When they had life and motion. Tis most true fir, I am dead indeed to all but misery. O come not neere me sir, I am infectious, To looke on me at distance is as dangerous As from a pinacles cloud-kissing spire, With giddy eyes to view the steepe descent But to acknowledge me a certaine ruine. O sir. Speake Theocrine, force me not To farther question, my feares already Have chok'd my vitall spirits. Pray you turne away Your face and heare me, and with my last breath Give me leave to accuse you. What offence From my first infancie did I commit That for a punishment you should give up My Virgin chastity to the trecherous guard Of Gotish Montrevile? What hath be done? Abus'd me fir by violence, and this told I cannot live to speake more: may the cause In you finde pardon, but the speeding curse Of a ravish'd maid fall heavie, heavie on him, Beaufort my lawfull love, farewell for ever.