Rawlins, Thomas · published 1640 · first performed or written 1638 [1637-1639] (Annals) tragedy · King's Revels Company T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.79 · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I am as spotless, thank your happy self That saved me from those Robbers, as The child which yet is but a jelly, 'tis so young. No more, no more, trust me I do believe you. So many slaves, whose flaming appetites, Would in one night ravish a throng of Virgins, And never feel degression in their heat. I'll after and murder all. How do you? Well, very well: be like you think I'm mad. You look distractedly. 'tis but your thoughts, indeed I me wondrous well. How fair she looks after so foul a deed? It cannot be she should be false to me: No, thou'rt mad to think so. Fool, O fool, Thinkst thou those slaves, having to fair a mark Would not be Shooting? yes, they would, they have, Evadne is fly-blown, I cannot love her. What say you sweet? The innocence that sits upon the face Says she is chaste, the guilty cannot speak So evenly as she does: guilty, said, I! Alas it were not her fault, were she ravished. O madness, madness, whither wilt thou bear me? His fences are unsettled; I'll go seek Some holy man to rectify his wits. Sweet will you go unto some Hermit's Cell? You look as you lacked rest. She speaks like to an Angel, she's the same As when I saw her first, as pure, as chaste. Did she retain the substance of a sinner, For she is none, her breath would then be sour, And betray the rankness of the act but Her chaste sighs beget as sweet a dew As that of May. Why weeps Evadne, truly I'm not mad? See, I am tame, pray lead me where you please. The drink has done its part effectually, 'Twas a strong powder that could hold his senses So fast that this removing so full of noise, Had not the power to wake him. Good Father let Aurelia, your daughter, Do this same act of Justice, let me tread the pin: The fact of his being so foul, so hateful, Has lent me through a maid such fortitude. Thou hast thy wish, do't boldly, 'tis a deed That in the ignorance of elder ages, Would be thought full of merit: Be not daunted. I have a thought tells me it is religious, To sacrifice a murderer to death; Especially one that did act a deed, So generally accounted odious. By holy (Iaques) I'm a governor. And should my life; (though, by the hand of him My duty does call King) be struck i'th' air; My injured corpse should not forsake the earth Till I did see't revenged: be resolute; thy foot Is guided by a power, that though unseen, Is still a furtherer of good attempt. Pray sir lend me the Key of the back ward, For though my conscience tells me 'tis an act I may hereafter boast off; yet i'll pass unto our lady's Chapel when 'tis done, to be confessed Ere I am seen of any.
nodes 1334–1398 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 21 of 32 in this edition
Length
502 words · 673 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.794 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I am as spotlesse, thanke your happy selfe That sav'd me from those Robbers, as The child which yet is but a jelly, 'tis so yong. No more, no more, trust me I doe believe you. So many slaves, whose flaming appetites, Wou'd in one night ravish a throng of Virgins, And never feele degression in their heate. Ile afer and murther all. How doe you? Well, very well: be like you thinke I'me mad. You looke distractedly. Tis but your thoughts, indeed I me wondrous well. How faire she lookes after so foule a deede? It cannot be she should be false to me: No, thou'rt mad to think so. Foole, O foole, Thinkst thou those slaves, having to faire a marke Wou'd not be Shooting? yes, they wou'd, they have, Evadne is flye-blowne, I cannot love her. What say you sweet? The innocence that sits upon the face Sayes she is chast, the guilty cannot speake So evenly as she does: guilty, said, I! Alas it were not her fault, were she ravish't. O madnesse, madnesse, whither wilt thou beare me? His fences are unsetled; Ile goe seeke Some holy man to rectifie his wits. Sweet will you goe unto some Hermits Cell? You looke as you lackt rest. She speaks like to an Angel, she's the same As when I saw her first, as pure, as chast. Did she retaine the substance of a sinner, For she is none, her breath wo'd then be sower, And betray the rankenesse of the but Her chast sighes beget as sweet a As that of May. Why weepes Evadne, truely I'me not mad? See, I am tame, pray leade me where you plese. The drinke has done its part effectually, 'Twas a strong powder that could hold his sences So fast that this removing so full of noise, Had not the power to wake him. Good Father let Aurelia, your daughter, Doe this same act of Justice, let me tread the pin: The fact of his being so foule, so hatefull, Has lent me through a maid such fortitude. Thou hast thy wish, do't boldly, 'tis a deed That in the ignorance of elder ages, Wou'd be thought full of merit: Be not daunted. I have a thought tel's me it is religious, To sacrifice a murtherer to death; Especially one that did act a deed, So generally accounted odious. By holy (Iaques) I'me a governour. And should my life; (though, by the hand of him My duty does call King) be stroke i'th aire; My injur'd corps should not forsake the earth Till I did see't reveng'd: be resolute; thy foot Is guided by a power, that though unseene, Is still a furtherer of good attempt. Pray sir lend me the Key of the backe ward, For though my conscience tells me 'tis an act I may hereafter boast off; yet ile passe unto our Ladies Chappell whe tis done, to be confest Ere I am seene of any▪