Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1624 [1624-1625] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Globe T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.87 · 525 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
And to instruct me, that those thunderbolts, That hurled me headlong from the height of glory, Wealth, honours, worldly happiness, were forged Upon the anvil of my impious wrongs And cruelty to you? I do confess it; And that my lust compelling me to make way For a second wife, I poisoned thee, and that The cause (which to the world is undiscovered) That forced thee to shake off thy filial duty To me thy father, had its spring and source From thy impatience to know thy mother, That with all duty, and obedience served me (For now with horror I acknowledge it) Removed unjustly: yet thou being my son, Were't not a competent judge marked out by heaven For her revenger, which thy falling by My weaker hand confirmed. 'tis granted by thee. Can any penance expiate my guilt? Or can repentance save me? they are vanished. What's left to do then? I'll accuse my face That did not fashion me for nobler uses Or if those stars cross to me in my birth, Had not denied their prosperous influence to it With peace of conscience like to innocent men, I might have ceased to be, and not as now, To curse my cause of being. Here is a night To season my silks. Buff-jerkin, now I miss thee, Thou hast endured many foul nights, but never One like to this; how fine my feather looks now! Just like a capon's tail stolen out of the pen And hid in the sink, and yet't had been dishonour To have charged me without it, wilt thou fever cease, Is the petard, as I gave directions, fastened On the portcullis? It hath been attempted By divers, but in vain. These are your gallants, That at a feast take the first place, poor I, Hardly allowed to follow; marry in These foolish businesses they are content That I shall have precedence, I much thank Their manners, or their fear; second me Soldier, They have had no time to undermine, or if They have, it is blowing up, and fetching A caper or two in the air, and I will do it, Rather than blow my nails here. O brave Captain! Racks cannot force more from me than I have Already told you. I expect no favour I have cast up my account. Take you the charge Of the fort Belgarde, your dangers have deserved it. I thank your excellence, this will keep me safe yet From being pulled by the sleeve, and bid remember The thing I wot of. All that have eyes to weep, Spare one tear with me. Theocrine's dead, Her father too lies breathless here, I think, Struck dead with thunder. 'Tis apparent: how His carcase smells. His face is altered to Another colour. But here's one retained Her native innocence, that never yet Called down heaven's anger. 'tis in vain to mourn For what's past help. We will refer bad man Your sentence to the King: may we make use of This great example, and learn from it, that There cannot be a want of power above To punish murder, and unlawful love.
nodes 2553–2625 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 37 of 37 in this edition
Length
525 words · 667 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.872 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And to instruct me, that those thunderbol, That hurl'd me headlong from the height of glory, Wealth, honours, worldly happinesse, were forg'd Upon the anvile of my impious wrongs And cruelty to you? I doe confesse it; And that my lust compelling me to make way For a second wife, I poison'd thee, and that The cause (which to the world is undiscover'd) That forc'd thee to shake off thy filiall duty To mee thy father, had it's spring and sourse From thy impatence to know thy mother, That with all duty, and obedience serv'd me (For now with horror I acknowledge it) Remov'd unjustly: yet thou being my sonne, Were't not a competent judge mark'd out by heaven For her revenger, which thy falling by My weaker hand confirm'd. Tis granted by thee. Can any penance expiate my guilt? Or can repentance save me? they are vanish'd. What's left to doe then? I'll accuse my face That did not fashion me for nobler uses Or if those starres crosse to me in my birth, Had not deni'd their prosperous influence to it With peace of conscience like to innocent men, I might have ceas'd to be, and not as now, To curse my cause of being. Here is a night To season my silkes. Bue-jerkin, now I mie thee, Thou hast endur'd many oule nights, but never One like to this; how fine my feather looks now! Just like a Capons tail stol out of the pen And hid in the sinke, and yet't had beene dishonour To have charg'd me without it, wilt thou fever cease, Is the petarde, as I gave directions, fasten'd On the portcullis? It hath beene attempted By divers, but in vaine. These are your gallants, That at a feast take the first place, poore I, Hardly allow'd to follow; marry in These foolish businesses they are conent That I shall have precedence, I much thanke Their manne, or their feare; second me Souldier, They have had no time to undermine, or if They have, it is blowing up, and setching A caper or two in the ayre, and I will doe it, Rather then blow my nailes here. O brave Captaine! Rackes cannot force more from me then I have Already told you. I expect no favour I have cast up my accopt. Take you the charge Of the fort Belgarde, your dangers have deserv'd it. I thanke your excellence, this will keepe e safe yet From being pull'd by the sleeve, and bid remember The thing I wot of. All that have eyes to weepe, Spare one teare with mee. Theocrin's dead, Her father too lies breathlesse here, I thinke, Strucke dead with thunder. 'Tis apparent: ow His carkase smell. His face is alter'd to Another colour. But here's one retaine Her native innocence, that never ye Call'd downe heavens anger. Tis in vaine to mourne For whats past helpe. We will refer bad ma Your sentence to the King: may we make use of This great example, and learne from it, that There cannot be a want of power above To punish murther, and unlawfull love.