Glapthorne, Henry · published 1639 · first performed or written 1634 [1634-1639] [incorrect] (Annals) not in BritDrama · Globe T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.79 · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Your Grace hath shown us A too excessive courtesy. I'll only Repose a little, and if I find My sad distemper alter, I'll return, And frolic in your company. I smell him: He has a plot upon us, he'll steal hence, And shift a score or two of cups, and then Set fresh upon us, make us all as drunk, As rats in the Canaries. we'll attend your Grace. By no means, Let not my melancholy discompose Your thought of frolic mirth: There's Colonel Newman, Will in my absence take a cup or two For me: mean time be merry, 'tis my charge: Remember to observe it. I'm sorry, He should be thus distempered here. My Lord Let not our general's sadness rob us of Our late intended jollity: Colonel Newman You'd wont to be all air: I hope, you are not Turned earth o'th' sudden. No faith, thank heaven, I feel no inclination that savours of mortality: gentlemen shall's have a catch. With all our hearts, good Colonel. A military Madrigal, I learned it Of a right Imp of Mars, a red-faced Sergeant, At Halberstat. To me be terrible, since 'tis main folly, To fear that which we no way can avoid: Nor is't much matter how we die, by force, Or naturally checkered with grisly wounds, Or in our beds, since all's but the same death still: Oh! but to die surcharged with mortal sins, Such as can kill our everlasting beings, Our souls, and send them hence to bathe in floods Of living fire; there, that's the frightful mischief, The other's but a trifle; ay, who never Could fear the other, at the thought of this, Am one with death already; my vast crimes, My horrid murders kill that conscience in me, Which makes me know my guilt, that conscience, Which as my shadow follows me. Come softly, And if my stroke miss, second me. Ha! 'twas no ghost, that was a Mortal touch, It came so home and heavily: base Traitor, whoe'er thou art, thou durst not see my face, My looks would even have blasted thee: Ha! Lesle, Gordon, Butler. Yes traitor-duke, 'twas we, who out thy soul From thy weak twist of life, we who glory More in performing this brave act of justice, Then had we gained the Empire thy ambition Aspired to, thy base treacheries to Caesar, Are by us revenged. The Counts, Thy bold confederate Rebels, by our hands Sent to their ruin. Thus coward Hare, Prey on a dying Lion, for thee Lesle, Basely perfidious to me in thy faith, Receive my last breath in a curse: you have But played the Hangmen to perform heavens justice. Forgive me Heaven my past offence: I die, Not for my ambition, but my cruelty. Let us convey the body in, ard post With all speed to Vienna, and give notice Tothth' Emperor of our proceedings; thus every Traitor shall, Stead of a Crown, meet his own Funeral.
nodes 1425–1499 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 21 of 21 in this edition
Length
495 words · 677 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.792 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Your Grace hath shewen us A too excessive curtesie. Ile onely Repose a little, and if I find My sad distemper alter, Ile returne, And frolicke in your company. I smell him: Hee has a plot upon us, hee'le steale hence, And shift a score or two of cups, and then Set fresh upon us, make us all as drunke, As rats in the Canaries. Wee'l attend your Grace. By no meanes, Let not my melancholy discompose Your thought of frolicke mirth: There's Colonel Newman, Will in my absence take a cup or two For mee: meane time bee merry, 'tis my charge: Remember to observe it. I'me sorry, Hee should bee thus distemper'd here. My Lord Let not our Generals sadnesse rob us of Our late intended iollity: Colonell Newman You'd wont to bee all ayre: I hope, you are not Turn'd earth o'th' suddaine. No faith, thank heaven, I feel no inclination that savours of mortality: gentlemen Shal's have a catch. With all our hearts, good Colonell. A military Madrigall, I learn'd it Of a right Impe of Mars, a red-fac'd Serjeant, At Halberstat. To me be terrible, since 'tis maine folly, To feare that which we no way can avoid: Nor is't much matter how we dye, by force, Or naturally checker'd with grisly wounds, Or in our beds, since all's but the same death still: Oh! but to dye surcharg'd with mortall sinnes, Such as can kill our everlasting beings, Our soules, and send them hence to bathe in floods Of living fire; there, that's the frightfull mischiefe, The other's but a trifle; I, who never Could feare the other, at the thought of this, Am one with death already; my vast crimes, My horrid murders kill that conscience in me, Which makes me know my guilt, that conscience, Which as my shaddow followes me. Come softly, And if my stroake misse, second me. Ha! 'twas no ghost, that was a Mortall touch, It came so home and heavily: base Traytor, Who e're thou art, thou durst not see my face, My lookes would even have blasted thee: Ha! Lesle, Gordon, Butler. Yes Traytor-Duke, 'twas we, who out thy soul From thy weake twist of life, we who glory More in performing this brave act of justice, Then had we gain'd the Empire thy ambition Aspir'd to, thy base trecheries to Caesar, Are by us reveng'd. The Counts, Thy bold confederate Rebels, by our hands Sent to their ruine. Thus coward Hare, Prey on a dying Lyon, for thee Lesle, Basely perfidious to me in thy faith, Receive my last breath in a curse: you have But plaid the Hang-men to performe heavens justice. Forgive me Heaven my past offence: I dye, Not for my ambition, but my cruelty. Let us convey the body in, ard post With all speed to Vienna, and give notice Toth' Emperor of our proceedings; thus every Traytor shall, Stead of a Crowne, meet his owne Funerall.