Shirley, James · published 1640 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, May 17] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
What said your Lop. I did not think Carintha thou hadst been So stern of nature, thouhast a stubborn heart; Deny my first request. Should I kill myself. Why must we not all die, 'tis a thrifty Conscience that persuades the soul to hasten Her departure hence to avoid future guilt. You counsel strangely, I have deserved more Kindness from your tongue. If thou suspectest thou hast not fortitude Enough, t'attempt thy death by violence: Expire with leisure: refrain from meat, till Th' orifice of thy stomach close, and grow Together; or when thou feedest, eat arsenic, Die any way, so the law call not me Thy murderer. Heaven secure me, have you the use of all Your senses, ye speak thus? But if you'll choose an easier way, each morning Fetch a tedious sigh or two, 'twill make your Heart to cleave, I'll give you cause enough to do't. You have a bloody mind. Or as some Country Virgins do scratch mortar From an aged wall and eat it up in Private, so die on the green disease, but now I think upon't that's to perplex away, Unto the Grave. I dare not hate the thought youhave tempted me, Beyond mortal patience, oh unkind Destiny. Do, fret, gall thy heart strings till they break, I've the engine of a babe, any man That had arrived at half my years, would soon Invent a safe way to shift that trifle From him. Hum. who shall I get to do't. Happy fancy, 'tis mature I will Above it straight. I sent you a Letter Madam. My Lord I received it. How did you taste it? Excellently. I have twenty as good as that lying by me, have I not Oh my good Lord. (Crispino They shall be all at your service. youare too much a Courtier, I must chide you signior, I never did deserve the Epithets Your paper throws upon me. Epithets I beseech you Madam to impute That to the fretfulness of my brain, If any thing have slipped my pen whereby I may incur Your ladyship's indignation I'll recant It publicly. I enjoin no such penance, But 'tis an injury easily remitted, 'tis the glory they say of Lovers to hyperbolise. hypberbolise, what's that? I ha' not that word Yet in my Alphabet, I hope Madam you Hold a better opinion of me then to imagine I would hyperbolise with your Ladyship; That were immodest. Not so signior. By my faith Madam but it is, de think I know not what hyperbolizing is, That were simplicity, if any thing Within my Letter may be drawn within Construction of hyperbolizing, condemn Not me for't, by service Madam, I Had no intention to stretch so far To your dishonour, it shall teach me wit To write my Letters hereafter. A hair in your honour's lock is disordered, 'tis rectified, signior, You do me much too much satisfaction, Your error being a small one.
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)
What said your Lop. I did not thinke Carintha thou hadst beene So sterne of nature, t'hast a stubborne heart; Deny my first request. Should I kill my selfe. Why must we not all dye, 'tis a thrifty Conscience that perswades the soule to hasten Her departure hence to avoid future guilt. You counsell strangely, I have deserv'd more Kindenesse from your tongue. If thou suspect'st thou hast not fortitude Enough, t'attempt thy death by violence: Expire with leasure: refraine from meate, till Th' orifice of thy stomacke close, and grow Together; or when thou feedst, eate Arsnicke, Dye any way, so the law call not me Thy murderer. Heaven secure me, have you the use of all Your sences, ye speake thus? But if youle choose an easier way, each morning Fetch a tedious sigh or two, twill make your Heart to cleave, Ile give you cause enough to doe't. You have a bloody mind. Or as some Country Virgins doe scratch morter From an aged wall and eate it up in Private, so die on the greene disease, but now I thinke upon't thats to perplex away, Vnto the Grave. I dare not hate the thought y'have tempted me, Beyond mortall patience, oh unkind Destiny. Doe, fret, gall thy heart strings till they breake, Ive the engine of a babe, any man That had arrived at halfe my yeares, would soone Invent a safe way to shift that trifle From him. Hum, who shall I get to doe't. Happy fancy, 'tis mature I will Above it strait. I sent you a Letter Maddam. My Lord I received it. How did you taste it? Excellently. I have twenty as good as that lying by me, have I not Oh my good Lord. (Crispino They shall be all at your service. Yare too much a Courtier, I must chide you Signiour, I never did deserve the Epithets Your paper throws upon me. Epithets I beseech you Madam to impute That to the fretfullnesse of my braine, If any thing have slipt my pen whereby I may incurre Your Ladiships indignation Ile recant It publickely. I enjoyne no such pennance, But tis an injury easily remitted, Tis the glory they say of Lovers to Hiperbolise. Hiperbolize, whats that? I ha not that word Yet in my Alphabet, I hope Madam you Hold a better opinion of me then to imagine I would hiperbolize with your Lady-ship; That were immodest. Not so Signiour. By my faith Madam but it is, de thinke I know not what hiperbolizing is, That were simplicity, if any thing Within my Letter may be drawne within Construction of hiperbolizing, condemne Not me for't, by service Madam, I Had no intention to stretch so farre To your dishonour, it shall teach me wit To write my Letters hereafter. A haire in your honours locke is disordered, Tis rectified, Signiour, You doe me much too much satisfaction, Your errour being a small one.