D., J. · published 1640 · first performed or written c.1625 [revised c.1632] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Fortune unassigned nearest T15 Friars and holy orders in plot · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T15: friar, lord, holy, friars, robin, peggy, lacie, angelo, love, nun.
O forgive me heaven, what is this? I from my wrong conceived, lest could I not, Drew him apart into a silent Grove, Having before vowed solemnly revenge, Where I made some repetition of my grief: he still (I see him) innocent gentleman, taking my words For such as Lovers use, when they are wanton, Smiles me in the face, and would not thing 'twas anger. 'tis truth he speaks. This enkindled me, and as Boar, When he does chaw his foam, predicts some mischief, So my bended front foretold his ruin, Forth I drew my sword, and sheathed it Within his breast, what else is added, He's a Jew avers, and falser than a whore. See, see the age's wickedness: can it be possible? O miserable time, when men make no more reckoning of their souls! Fie, fie, Francisco, think upon your end, and whither you must go. Most reverend Fathers, observe you this his contumacy: I shall I fear be forced to speak what in my heart till now I chested, and ribbed in, because mine oath, 'twas not my will hath here constrained me to expose his blame, my soul had vowed to hide; Note into malice how he throws himself, and would stain my reputation with a calumnious lie. Art thou a man, or something else; oh fool, fool. Is this possible? Give ear unto thy sentence. I must, in— Did not I say he's mad, stark raving mad, away with him. The man's alive that's dead. Yes, they supped together: I love this fellow. Your Grace shall do well to punish this saucy groom. You are a most pernicious damned villain, and your soul knows it. Come, sir, depart, & rave not, or I shall see you whipped. Good Father pardon; pardon mighty Duke, pardon Antonio, cause of this disquiet. Lod. Antonio? By this light he supped with him indeed. It is not so, this cannot be. Is there no mountain nigh to fall on me, no rotten house? I know not whether I may call thee son, or rest in doubt for ever. I am Antonio, and I was your son, when I left Venice last. Is no man here amazed but only I? My dear Phemone! Were you the Shepherd? You see chaste Cornelia. Was ever man so blessed? Nay, come Francisco, I must have your hand: I can as well forgive, as I can love; and nothing more than both: good Crissippus, my old friend. You have been a stranger Signior; but I'm glad 'tis thus. Whither away: stay him officers; we have not done with you. whither shall I run to hide myself? What Climate, or what Region? Pardon greatest Prince. Pardon grave Fathers. Against that prayer kneel I: No pardon Prince, as thou dost hope for bliss. Grant him a halter; nothing else good Duke. Give him his liberty: Art thou so impudent to plead for mercy, and beg of me, having committed such a capital trespass here in my view?
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)
O forgive me heaven, what is this? I from my wrong conceiv'd, leaſt could I not, Drew him apart into a ſilent Grove, Having before vow'd ſolemnly revenge, Where I made ſome repetition of my griefe: he ſtill (I ſee him) innnocent gentleman, taking my words For ſuch as Lovers uſe, when they are wanton, Smiles me in the face, and would not thing 'twas anger. Tis truth he ſpeakes. This inkindled me, and as Boare, When he does chaw his foame, predicts ſome miſchiefe, So my bended front fore-told his ruine, Forth I drew my ſword, and ſheathed it Within his breaſt, what elſe is added, He's a Jew averres, and falſer than a whore. See, ſee the Ages wickedneſſe: can it be poſſible? O miſerable time, when men make no more reckoning of their ſoules! Fye, fye, Franciſco, thinke upon your end, and whither you muſt goe. Moſt reverend Fathers, obſerve you this his contumacy: I ſhall I feare be forc'd to ſpeak what in my heart till now I cheſted, and rib'd in, becauſe mine oath, 'twas not my wil hath heare conſtrained me to expoſe his blame, my ſoule had vowed to hide; Note into malice how he throwes himſelfe, and would ſtaine my reputation with a calumnious lye. Art thou a man, or ſomething elſe; oh foole, foole. Is this poſſible? Give eare unto thy ſentece. I muſt, in— Did not I ſay he's mad, ſtarke raving mad, away with him. The man's alive that's dead. Yes, they ſupt together: I love this fellow. Your Grace ſhall doe well to puniſh this ſaucy groom. You are a moſt pernicious damn'd villaine, and your ſoule knowes it. Come, ſir, depart, & rave not, or I ſhall ſee you whipt. Good Father pardon; pardon mighty Duke, pardon Antonio, cauſe of this diſquiet. Lod. Antonio? By this light he ſupt with him indeed. It is not ſo, this cannot be. Is there no mountaine nigh to fall on me, no roten houſe? I know not whether I may call thee ſonne, or reſt in doubt for ever. I am Antonio, and I was your ſon, when I left Venice laſt. Is no man here amaz'd but onely I? My deare Phemone! Were you the Shepheard? You ſee chaſte Cornelia. Was ever man ſo bleſt? Nay, come Franciſco, I muſt have your hand: I can as well forgive, as I can love; and nothing more than both: good Criſſippus, my old friend. You have bin a ſtranger Signior; but I'me glad 'tis thus. Whither away: ſtay him officers; wee have not done with you. Wither ſhall I runne to hide my ſelfe? What Climate, or what Region? Pardon greateſt Prince. Pardon grave Fathers. Againſt that prayer kneele I: No pardon Prince, as thou doſt hope for bliſſe. Grant him a halter; nothing elſe good Duke. Give him his liberty: Art thou ſo impudent to pleade for mercy, and beg of me, having committed ſuch a capitall treſpaſſe here in my view?