Nabbes, Thomas · published 1640 · first performed or written 1640 (Annals) not in BritDrama · Unacted T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.84 · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
You have confessed yourself a murderer, 'twas a bad act; And you have added to it: the discovery Hath made me guilty by the knowledge of it. I cannot but with horror now embrace Her love, for which his innocence hath suffered: Nor will I marry her. Dare you then be Unjust to your own honour? and neglect That which you call religion, we but form? You have instructed me: all other virtues Depend on justice; she alone is perfect Without addition in herself. A Prince Cannot deservedly wear the royal title, That orders not it, nor is ordered by it. Justice with tyranny may be allowed Rather than partiality, for that Emboldens sin; the other makes it fear. If this day I should not be just (the first Of my uncertain government) a blessing Would not preserve it; for the bad example Would teach bad subjects (such as thou) to be Presumptuous in their errors. What proceeding Intends this ambage? Such a sin as thine Is not allowed the plea of an excuse. Then since thou stand'st convicted by thyself, I thus pronounce thy sentence: thou shalt die. yourself is not immortal Prince. By th' hand Of Justice. Who's the executioner? thyself, I have no other to command. do't with that instrument. 'Tis a command Becomes a Prince; and chiefly such a one As makes it scruple to preserve his raiser, Or to connive at a slight petty sin; Whose execution hath confirmed his title: 'Tis a less sin to kill thee than myself. Honour must yield then to necessity: I'll do't myself. My sword that hath been just In war, in Peace shall be so. Therefore pray; And if the apprehension of thy death Presents thy guilty conscience with an horror, Meet it with holy thoughts, that thy repentance May bear thy best part upwards. I am loath To kill thy soul. What strange conceits are these Transport your reason from its use? pray kill me, And when y' have done it, call my silent ashes To tell the people how you are their Prince. What then shall give my cold tongue motion To justify your right? Just Heavens want not Miraculous means. My Justice is too slow, And flies with lazy wings. Therefore be sudden; I cannot give thy preparations A longer time. Put up your sword, and take Your hangman's tool again. Put up I say, And call your duty back. Son I have played My trials into danger, hear the reason. Observing in thee haughtiness of spirit, Forward to noble action, that was always Attended with success, I feared ambition Might tempt thy virtue, therefore ordered this To prove its truth. You cannot trifle me Into new error. I have shaken off That loose and vulgar outside I was dressed in By ignorance; but now I know myself To be a Prince: 'Tis I that have discovered Ambition in thee, and thy practises; To make thy daughter Duchess. But I play Too much with Justice. Take thy punishment For murder.
nodes 1785–1860 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 23 of 26 in this edition
Length
505 words · 636 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.837 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
You have confest Your selfe a murderer, 'twas a bad act; And you have added to it: the discovery Hath made me guilty by the knowledge of it. I cannot but with horrour now embrace Her love, for which his innocence hath suffer'd: Nor will I marry her. Dare you then be Unjust to your owne honour? and neglect That which you call religion, we but forme? You have instructed me: all other vertues Depend on Iustice; she alone is perfect Without addition in her selfe. A Prince Cannot deserv'dly weare the royall title, That orders not it, nor is order'd by it. Justice with tyranny may be allow'd Rather than partiality, for that Emboldens sin; the other makes it feare. If this day I should not be just (the first Of my uncertaine government) a blessing Would not preserve it; for the bad example Would teach bad subjects (such as thou) to be Presumptious in their errours. What proceeding Intends this ambage? Such a sin as thine Is not allow'd the plea of an excuse. Then since thoustand'st convicted by thy selfe, I thus pronounce thy sentence: thou shalt dye. Your selfe is not immortall Prince. By th' hand Of Justice. Who's the executioner? Thy selfe, I have no other to command. Doe't with that instrument. 'Tis a command Becomes a Prince; and chiefly such a one As makes it scruple to preserve his rayser, Or to connive at a slight petty sin; Whose execution hath confirm'd his title: 'Tis a lesse sin to kill thee than my selfe. Honour must yeeld then to necessity: Ile doe't my selfe. My sword that hath bin just In war, in Peace shall be so. Therefore pray; And if the apprehension of thy death Presents thy guilty conscience with an horrour, Meete it with holy thoughts, that thy repentance May beare thy best part upwards. I am loath To kill thy soule. What strange conceits are these Transport your reason from its use? pray kill me, And when y' have done it, call my silent ashes To tell the people how you are their Prince. What then shall give my cold tongue motion To justifie your right? Iust Hevens want not Miraculous meanes. My Justice is too slow, And slies with lazie wings. Therefore be suddaine; I cannot give thy preparations A longer time. Put up your sword, and take Your Hang-mans toole agen. Put up I say, And call your duty backe. Son I have plaid My trialls into danger, heare the reason. Observing in thee haughtinesse of spirit, Forward to noble action, that was alwaies Attended with successe, I fear'd ambition Might tempt thy vertue, therefore order'd this To prove its truth. You cannot trifle me Into new errour. I have shaken off That loose and vulgar out-side I was drest in By ignorance; but now I know my selfe To be a Prince: 'Tis I that have discover'd Ambition in thee, and thy practises; To make thy daughter Dutchesse. But I play Too much with Justice. Take thy punishment For murder.