Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1639 · first performed or written 1639 [c.1617-1639] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Anne's Men (?) T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.82 · 529 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Oh pardon me, that were too full of evil, I threat not Angels though I smite the Devil: Doubt not your peace, the King will be appeased There I'll bestow my service. We are pleased. As much as comes to nothing; I'll not sue To urge the King from that he urged him to. Betrayed where I reposed most trust? oh heaven, There is no misery, fit match for mine. So, bring 'em forward yet, there, there bestow them, Before her eyes lay the divided limbs Of her desired Paramour; so, y'are welcome, Lady you see your cheer, fine flesh, course fare, Sweet was your lust, what can be bitter there? By heaven, no other food thy taste shall have, Till in thy bowels those Corpses find a grave. Which to be sure of, come, I'll lock thee safe From the world's pity: hang those quarters up, The bottom drinks the worst in pleasure's cup. Oh my Tymethes! truest joy on earth! Hath thy fate proved so flinty? so perverse? To the sweet spring both of thy youth and hopes? This was Mazeres spite, that cursed Rival, And if I fail not, his own plot shall shower Upon his bosom like a falling Tower. My worthy Lord. Oh, you should have seen us sooner. Why my Lord! The quarters of your friend passed by in Triumph, A sight that I presume, had pleased you well. call a villain to my father's pleasure, No friend of mine; the sight had pleased me better, Had I not like Mazeres, run my hate Into the sin before it grew to act; And killed it ere't had knotted: 'twas rare service, If your vexed Majesty conceive it right. In politic Mazeres, serving more In this discovery, his own vicious malice Than any true peace that should make you perfect: Suffering the hateful treason to be done He might have stopped in his confusion. Most certain. Good your Majesty bethink you In manly temper and considerate blood; Went he the way of loyalty, or your quiet, After he saw the courtesies exceed T'abuse your peace, and trust them with the deed? Oh no, none but a Traitor would have done it. For my Lord, weight indifferently. I do, I do. What makes it heinous, burdensome, and monstrous, Fills you with such distractions, breeds such furies In your incensed breast, but the deed doing? Oh. Th'intent had been sufficient for his death, And that full satisfaction; but the act— Insufferable, Sertorio! where's Sertorio. My Lord. Seek out Mazeres suddenly, peace Zenarchus Let me alone to trap him. It may prove, Behold my friend, how I express my love. Oh villain, had he pierced him at first sight, Where I have one grief, I had missed ten thousand by't. I dreamt of some new honours for my late service, And I wondered how he could keep off so long from my desert, Mazeres? My loved Lord. I am forgetful I am in thy debt some dignities Mazeres, What shift shall we make for thee? thy late service Is warm still in our memory and dear favour: Prithee discover to's the manner how Thou tookest them subtly.
nodes 1484–1558 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 25 of 28 in this edition
Length
529 words · 713 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.818 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Oh pardon me, that were too full of evill, I threat not Angels though I smite the Devill: Doubt not your peace, the King will be appeas'd There Ile bestow my service. We are pleas'd. As much as comes to nothing; Ile not sue To urge the King from that he urg'd him to. Betrayd where I repos'd most trust? oh heaven, There is no misery, fit match for mine. So, bring 'em forward yet, there, there bestow thēm, Before her eyes lay the divided limbes Of her desired Paramour; so, y'are welcome, Lady you see your cheere, fine flesh, course fare, Sweete was your lust, what can be bitter there? By heaven, no other food thy taste shall have▪ Till in thy bowels those Corpes finde a grave. Which to be sure of, come, Ile locke thee safe From the worlds pitty: hang those quarters up, The bottome drinkes the worst in pleasures cup. Oh my Tymethes! truest joy on earth! Hath thy fate prov'd so flinty? so perverse? To the sweete spring both of thy youth and hopes? This was Mazeres spight, that cursed Rivall, And if I faile not, his owne plot shall shower Vpon his bosome like a falling Tower. My worthy Lord. Oh, you should have seene us sooner. Why my Lord! The quarters of your friend passed by in Triumph, A sight that had pleas'd you well. villaine to my fathers pleasure, No friend of mine▪ the sight had pleased me Had I not like Mazeres, run my hate Into the sinne before it grew to act; And kill'd it ere't had knotted▪ 'twas rare servicē, If your vex'd Majesty conceive it right. In politicke Mazeres, serving more In this discovery, his owne vicious malice Than any true peace that should make you perfect: Suffering the hatefull treason to be done He might have stopt in his confusion. Most certaine. Good your Majesty bethinke you In manly temper and considerate blood; Went he the way of loyalty, or your quiet, After he saw the courtesies exceed T'abuse your peace, and trust them with the deed? Oh no, none but a Traytor would have done it. For my Lord, weigh't indifferently. I doe, I doe. What makes it heynous, burthensome, and monstrous, Fills you with such distractions, breedes such furies In your incensed breast, but the deede doing? Oh. Th'intent had beenē sufficient for his death, And that full satisfaction; but the act — Insufferable, Sertorio! where's Sertorio. My Lord. Seeke out Mazeres suddenly, peace Zenarchus Let me alone to trap him. It may prove, Behold my friend, how I expresse my love. Oh villaine, had he pierc'd him at first sight, Where I have one griefe, I had mist ten thousand by't. I dreampt of some new honours for my late servicē, And I wondred how he could keepe off so long from my desert, Mazeres? My lov'd Lord. I am forgetfull I am in thy debt some dignities Mazeres, What shift shall we make for thee? thy late service Is warme still in our memory and deare favour: Prithee discover to's the manner how Thou tookest them subtlely.