Shirley, James · published 1639 · first performed or written 1626 [licensed for stage, Feb 9] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.83 · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I am glad with all my heart that Berinthia has Poisoned her, yet— Oh it becomes thee bravely, hear me sir. Antonio's death and my dishonours now Have just revenge; I stabbed Sebastiano, poisoned my sister, Oh but they made too soon a fury of me, And split the patience, from whose dreadful breach Came these consuming fires, your passions fruitless; My soul is reeling forth I know not whether; Oh father my heart weeps tears, for you I die, oh see A maid's revenge with her own Tragedy. Ansilva, oh thou dull wretch, hell on thy cursed Weakness, thou gavest me The poison, but I lick earth, hold, a gentleman Usher to support me, oh I am gone, the poison Now hath torn my heart in pieces, Moritur. I am Planet struck, a direful Tragedy, and have I no part in't: how do you like it, ha? was't not Done toth' life? they are my own children; this was My eldest girl, this Berinthia the Tragedian, Whose love by me resisted, was mother of all this Horror; and there's my boy too, that slew Antonio Valiantly, and fell under his sister's rage, what Art thou boy? I'll tell you now I am no boy, But hapless Castabella, sister to The slain Antonio, I had hoped to have Some recompense by Sebastiano's love, For whose sake in disguise I thus adventured To purchase it, but death hath ravished us, And here I bury all my joys on earth. Sweet lady, here's Count de Monte nigro alive To be your servant. Hence dull greatness. Were you a friend of Sebastiano then? I'll give you testimony. No, I believe you, but thou canst not be my daughter; 'tis false, he lies that says Beriathia Was author of their deaths, 'twas Villarezo, A father's wretched curiosity, dead, dead, dead. And I will leave the world too, for I mean To spend the poor remainder of my days In some Religious house, married to heaven, And holy prayers for Sebastiano's soul, And my lost brother. Will you so? I pray let Castabella have the honour To enshrine his bones, and when my breath expires, For sorrow promiseth I shall not live To see more Suns, let me be buried by him As near as may be possible, that in death Our dust may meet, oh my Sebastiano, Thy wounds are mine. Come I am armed, take up their bodies, Castabella you Are not chief mourner here, he was my son, Remember that, Berinthia first, she was the Youngest, put her i'th' pit-hole first, than Catalina; strew, strew flowers enough upon 'em, for they Were maids; now Sebastiano, take him Up gently, he was all the sons I had; now March, come you and I are twins in this days Unhappiness, we'll match together, follow close we'll overtake 'em, softly, and as we go, we'll dare our fortune for another woe.
nodes 2061–2124 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 35 of 35 in this edition
Length
486 words · 678 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.826 (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)
I am glad with all my heart that Berinthia has Poysoned her, yet— Oh it becomes thee bravely, heare me sir. Antonioes death and my dishonours now Have just revenge; I stabb'd Sebastiano, poy oned my sister, Oh but they made too soone a fury of me, And split the patience, from whose dreadfull breach Came these consuming fires, your passions fruitless; My soule is reeling forth I know not whether; Oh father my heart weepes teares, for you I dye, oh see A maides revenge with her owne Tragedy. Ansilva, oh thou dull wretch, hell on thy cursed Weakenesse, thou gavest me The poyson, but I licke earth, hold, a gentleman Vsher to support me, oh I am gone, the poyson Now hath torne my heart in peeces, Moritur. I am Planet strucke, a direfull Tragedy, and have I no part in't: how doe you like it, ha? wast not Done toth' life? they are my owne children; this was My eldest girle, this Berinthia the Tragedian, Whose love by me resisted, was mother of all this Horror; and theres my boy too, that slew Antonio Valiantly, and fell under his sisters rage, what Art thou boy? Ile tell you now I am no boy, But haplesse Castabella, sister to The slaine Antonio, I had hop'd to have Some recompence by Sebastianoes love, For whose sake in disguise I thus adventur'd To purchase it, but death hath ravisht us, And here I bury all my joyes on earth. Sweet lady, heres Count de Monte nigro alive To be your servant. Hence dull greatnesse. Were you a friend of Sebastiano then? Ile give you testimony. No, I beleeve you, but thou canst not be my daughter; Tis false, he lies that sayes Beriathia Was author of their deathes, 'twas Villarez , A fathers wretched curiosity, dead, dead, dead. And I will leave the world too, for I meane To spend the poore remainder of my dayes In some Religious house, married to heaven, And holy prayers for Sebastianoes soule, And my lost brother. Will you so? I pray let Castabella have the honour To enshrine his bones, and when my breath expires, For sorrow promiseth I shall not live To see more Sunnes, let me be buried by him As neere as may be possible, that in death Our dust may meete, oh my Sebastiano, Thy wounds are mine. Come I am arm'd, take up their bodies, Castabella you Are not chiefe mourner here, he was my sonne, Remember that, Berinthia first, she was the Youngest, put her ith' pithole first, then Catalina; Strow, strow flowers enough upon em, for they Were maides; now Sebastiano, take him Vp gently, he was all the sonnes I had; now March, come you and I are twinnes in this dayes Vnhappinesse, wee'le match together, follow close Wee'le overtake em, softly, and as we go, Wee'le dare our fortune for another woe.