Glapthorne, Henry · published 1639 · first performed or written 1634 [1634-1639] [incorrect] (Annals) not in BritDrama · Globe unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
This was the killing fever I still feared; Sir I should be a stranger to your blood, As well as noble worth, should I commit Actions I shamed to justify: I confess I love fair Isabella, and beseech you, The meanness of her fortune and her birth Omitted. she may be conferred upon me In lawful marriage. Dare you boy, Speak this to me. I should Sir be degenerate From your great spirit, should I fear to utter What I do wish effected, were you a God, As being my Father, you're but a degree To me beneath one, in a cause so righteous, I should not only boldly crave your licence, But hope to have it granted. Hell and furies, Durst any mortal fool, but my own issue, Venture to brave my fury thus; resolve Villain in full to satisfy my purpose, Do it without regret, renounce this strumpet Even from thy soul, abandon her remembrance. Or by my own unwearied valour, better, And with more safety thou mayst hug a wave, When its white lips kiss heaven: young sir your honour Is not your own, for it you're but my factor, And must give me account, a strict account Of the errors you run in: to the Dust Of my great Ancestors, stand I accountant For all my family, and their blessed ashes Would break their Marble lodgings, and come forth To quarrel with me, should I permit this bar To stain their glorious Heraldry. Great Sir, Can virtue be a blemish, or true worth Disgrace Nobility; 'twas that at first, When Nature made all equal, did distinguish 'Twixt man and man, and gave a just precedence To the most worthy: Honour is virtue's offspring, Since then the Angel, my affection's fixed on, Is fair and virtuous, all the good that ever Durst with frail flesh commix, or earth be proud of: How to our Family's honour can she bring A diminution? Can sir the chaste ice, Kissed by the Sun, into its native substance, Pollute a crystal River, surely rather It adds fresh moisture to its stream. My Lord, I am your son, and have been still obedient To your commands; O by your love, your virtue, Your never daunted virtue, I beseech you, Grant me this one request, were't for my life, I should not be so abject, as to spend This breath for its redemption. Well, thy prate Has overcome me, I am pitiful, Beyond my nature pitiful to thee, Thou shalt enjoy thy wishes. All the blessings, Prayers can obtain from heaven, shower down upon you For your superlative mercy. Stay and mark me, 'Tshall be with this condition, that as soon As thou art wed, and hast enjoyed thy wishes, Ere the next Sun rise on you, You resolve without remorse, To kill your Isabella. Heavens protect me!
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)
This was the killing fever I still fear'd; Sir I should be a stranger to your blood, As well as noble worth, should I commit Actions I sham'd to justifie: I confesse I love faire Isabella, and beseech you, The meanenesse of her fortune and her birth Omitted. she may be confer'd upon me In lawfull marriage. Dare you boy, Speake this to me. I should Sir be degenerate From your great spirit, should I feare to utter What I doe wish effected, were you a God, As being my Father, you'r but a degree To me beneath one, in a cause so righteous, I should not onely boldly crave your license, But hope to have it granted. Hell and furies, Durst any mortall foole, but my owne issue, Venter to brave my fury thus; resolve Villaine in full to satisfie my purpose, Doe it without regret, renounce this strumpet Even from thy soule, abandon her remembrance. Or by my owne unwearied valour, better, And with more safety thou mayst hug a wave, When its white lips kisse heaven: yong sir your honor Is not your owne, for it you'r but my factor, And must give me account, a strict account Of the errors you run in: to the Dust Of my great Ancestors, stand I accountant For all my family, and their blest ashes Would breake their Marble lodgings, and come forth To quarrell with me, should I permit this bar To staine their glorious Heraldry. Great Sir, Can vertue be a blemish, or true worth Disgrace Nobility; 'twas that at first, When Nature made all equall, did distinguish 'Twixt man and man, and gave a just precedence To the most worthy: Honour is Vertues of-spring, Since then the Angell, my affection's fixt on, Is faire and vertuous, all the good that ever Durst with fraile flesh commix, or earth be proud of: How to our Families honour can she bring A diminution? Can sir the chaste ice, Kiss'd by the Sun, into its native substance, Pollute a chrystall River, surely rather It addes fresh moysture to its streame. My Lord, I am your sonne, and have been still obedient To your commands; O by your love, your vertue, Your never daunted vertue, I beseech you, Grant me this one request, wer't for my life, I should not be so abject, as to spend This breath for its redemption. Well, thy prate Has overcome me, I am pittifull, Beyond my nature pittifull to thee, Thou shalt injoy thy wishes. All the blessings, Prayers can obtain from heaven, showr down upon you For your superlative mercy. Stay and marke me, 'Tshall be with this condition, that as soone As thou art wed, and hast injoy'd thy wishes, Ere the next Sun rise on you, You resolve without remorse, To kill your Isabella. Heavens protect me!