Shirley, James · published 1640 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, Nov 14] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.80 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Alas I know not with what words to tell you Would I had never seen her, or you never Married her. Ha? stay there, Shall I trust thee now fury? but speak, and Be not tedious, what is my Lady doing upon thy life? Alas sir it will make you mad. Speak or never speak again, I am prepared Pardon my unhappiness to deliver then A truth that will distract you, you have now Nor friend nor wife Are they both dead? Yes dead to honour, finding her chamber locked I know not what did prompt me to make use Of a small cranny, where I beheld 'em both, I want modest language To tell how they are fall'n, and yet too soon I know you cannot choose but understand me. How long hast thou been a Raven? Good sir collect yourself, 'tis my misfortune and no fault to be The sad reporter Do I live still? And shall I hope long thouart most uncharitable, if thou hadst loved Thy master thou wouldst wish him happiness Which all life denies, is my composition So hard, a sorrow great and high like this Cannot dissolve it? won't my heart break With this? then melt it some celestial fire, In pity of my sufferings some cloud Of rain, since my own eyes refuse to drown me, Fall and o'erwhelm this miserable Island Sir, Can this be possible? be sure they are Devils Or I shall find such a new hell for thee— I would it were not true I would it were not true Some merciful whirlwind snatch this burden up And carry it into some wilderness: Leave not If it were possible the mention Of what I was behind, the wolves are honester Than mankind is to man, I prithee kill me I kneel to be destroyed, it is thy duty; When thou shalt tell the world my wretched story And what soul killing and devouring griefs Thy good hand rid me of, it shall acquit thee And call thy murder charity Good sir O whither shall I run to find a friend Will do the gentle office to dispatch me Without my own hand? Rather live to take justice upon their perjuries. Good man. My better Angel how had I forgot myself? Coward to think of dying yet. Who would put confidence in heaven hereafter. If it should suffer me depart the world Without revenge, and that my own upon 'em. Come draw, take my sword, I will be double armed. I charge thee by thy duty, or thy life If that be more, stay you at bottom of The stairs, while I ascend their sinful chamber And if my Pistol miss his treacherous heart He has no way to pass but on thy sword, The place gives such advantage that with Safety thou mayst command his life. Kill him with loss compunction than a witch Fleas a dead Infant for his skin to perfect A hellish incantation, thou wilt do't?
nodes 1076–1146 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 20 of 33 in this edition
Length
501 words · 602 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.801 (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)
Alas I know not with what words to tell you Would I had never seene her, or you never Married her. Ha? stay there, Shall I trust thee now fury? but speake, and Be not tedious, what is my Lady doing upon thy life? Alas sir it will make you madde. Speake or never speake agen, I am prepard Pardon my unhappinesse to deliver then A truth that will distract you, you have now Nor friend nor wife Are they both dead? Yes dead to honor, finding her chamber lockt I know not what did prompt me to make use Of a small cranny, where I beheld em both, I want modest language To tell how they are falne, and yet too soone I know you cannot choose but understand me. How long hast thou beene a Raven? Good sir collect your selfe, Tis my misfortune and no fault to be The sad reporter Do I live still? And shall I hope long Th'art most uncharitable, if thou hadst lou'd Thy master thou wouldst wish him happinesse Which all life denies, is my composition So hard, a sorrow great and high like this Cannot disolve it? wonot my heart breake With this? then melt it some celestiall fire, In pitty of my sufferings some cloud Of raine, since my owne eyes refuse to drowne me, Fall and orewhelme this miserable Iland Sir, Can this be possible? be sure they are Divells Or I shall find such a new hell for thee— I would it were not true I would it were not true Some mercifull whirlewind snatch this burden up And carry it into some wildernesse: Leave not If it were possible the mention Of what I was behind, the wolues are honester Then mankind is to man, I prethee kill me I kneele to be destroyd, it is thy duty; When thou shalt tell the world my wretched story And what soule killing and devouring griefes Thy good hand rid me of, it shall acquit thee And call thy murder charity Good sir O whither shall I runne to find a friend Will do the gentle office to despatch me Without my owne hand? Rather live to take Iustice upon their periuries. Good man. My better Angel how had I forgot My selfe? Coward to thinke of dying yet. Who would put confidence in heaven hereafter. If it should suffer me depart the world Without revenge, and that my owne upon em. Come draw, take my sword, I will be double arm'd▪ I charge thee by duty, or thy life If that be more, stay you at bottome of The staires, while I ascend their sinfull chamber And if my Pistoll misse his treacherous heart He has no way to passe but on thy sword, The place gives such advantage that with Safety thou maist command his life. Kill him with losse compunction then a witch Fleas a dead Infant for his skin to perfect A hellish incantation, thou wo't do't?