The Ladies' Privilege (The Lady's Privilege) · chunk 21 of 31
Glapthorne, Henry · published 1640 · first performed or written 1637 [1637-1640] (Annals) not in BritDrama · before the Court T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.85 · 471 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I Am very sorry that his Fate has cast Such a disastrous chance upon his Life: But his desert will blunt the edge of justice, And mitigate the severity, which would Question the safety of his Life. 'Tis in your mercy To dash the law's proceedings, gracious Madam, The Privilege that our Country gives your Sex, Can hope for no employment, that will raise A greater Trophy to your fame, than this To ransom him, whose constancy and truth Exceeds all boast of Stories. You'll redeem The opinion of your piety, which scandal, Should you omit this just and righteous task, Would blast with blackest infamy. You plead in your own cause, not his, 't does not beseem My modesty to interpose myself In that which nought concerns me. Is his life Of such a trivial value in your thoughts, That you esteemed not worthy your entreats, To save't from killing, ruin, sacred love, Thou miracle of Mature, and delight Of all who know humanity with some Religious arrow pierce her flinty breast, Some pious shaft, on whose subduing point Pity and amorous softness gently sit, Reduce this straying Schismatic to the first Unspotted pureness of her constant faith, And we will pay a thousand clouds of sighs, As incense to thy Altars. Offer up myriads of virgin vows and with our tears Extinguish all irregular flames that taint Thy holy fries. Oh Madam What heart so barbarous, does not at love's smiles Put off the native fierceness, beasts with beasts, Observe his laws; the lions whose big breath Affrights the trembling people of the woods, Were his hoarse accents to be understood, They would appear to be affections groves. The Nightingale that on lascivious wings Flies from the poplar to the trembling Beech, And on each bough chants melancholy notes, Had hea humane utterance, would proclaim Those pensive strains, the music of his love; And can ye be less sensible of a power, That is so great, than creatures barred the use Of sacred reason, and discourse? This is to seek to pacify the sea With tears; Vitelli you mistake, your friend Values not at so dear a rate his life, As to receive a being tributary To my unasked entreaties, besides I should Envy the state's prerogative, whose mercy Is in remitting his unwilling fault, But a becoming thankfulness, and should Be censured, as too partial to my own Affection should I strive to be his wife, Whose hand is purpled with the innocent blood Of my late murdered kinsman. This concerns As nearly me as you, but by just truth, Though I'm engaged by my particular choice To my Vitelli, were I sure the General Would not contemn my offer, and so blast My future fame, I would disclaim all eyes Of former fancy; and implore his safety.
before the Court;Phoenix/Cockpit;Whitehall;Indoor Professional
Genre (British Drama)
not in BritDrama
Play type
Boys Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 1144 · TCP A01775 · DEEP 976
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 1379–1448 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 21 of 31 in this edition
Length
471 words · 627 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.852 (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)
I Am very sorry that his Fate has cast Such a disastrous chance upon his Life: But his desert will blunt the edge of justice, And mitigate the severity, which would Question the safety of his Life. 'Tis in your mercy To dash the Lawes proceedings, gracious Madam, The Priviledge that our Country gives your Sexe, Can hope for no imployment, that will rayse A greater Trophee to your fame, then this To ransome him, whose constancy and truth Exceeds all boast of Stories. You'l redeeme The opinion of your piety, which scandall, Should you omit this just and righteous taske, Would blast with blackest infamy. You plead in your owne cause, not his, t' does not beseem My modesty to interpose my selfe In that which nought concernes me. Is his life Of such a triviall value in your thouglits, That you esteem't not worthy your intreats, To sav't from killing, ruine, sacred love, Thou miracle of Mature, and delight Of all who know humanity with some Religious arrow pierce her flinty breast, Some pious shaft, on whose subduing point Pitty and amorous softnesse gently sit, Reduce this straying Schismaticke to the first Vnspotted purenesse of her constant faith, And we will pay a thousand clouds of sighes, As incense to thy Altars. Offer up Miriads of virgin vowes and with our teares Extinguish all irregular flames that taint Thy holy fries. Oh Madam What heart so barbarous, does not at loves smiles Put off the native fiercenesse, beasts with beasts, Observe his lawes; the Lyons whose big breath Affrights the trembling people of the woods, Were his hoarse accents to be understood, They would appeare to be affections groves. The Nightingale that on lascivious wings Flies from the poplar to the trembling Beech, And on each bough chaunts melancholy notes, Had hea humane utterance, would proclaime Those pensive straines, the musicke of his love; And can yee be lesse sensible of a power, That is so great, then creatures bard the use Of sacred reason, and discourse? This is to seeke to pacifie the sea With teares; Vitelli you mistake, your friend Values not at so deere a rate his life, As to receive a being tributary To my unask'd entreats, besides I should Envy the states prerogative, whose mercy Is in remitting his unwilling fault, But a becomming thankfulnesse, and should Be censur'd, as too partiall to my owne Affection should I strive to be his wife, Whose hand is purpled with the innocent blood Of my late murdered kinsman. This concernes As neerely me as you, but by just truth, Though I'me ingag'd by my particular choyce To my Vitelli, were I sure the Generall Would not contemne my offer, and so blast My future fame, I would disclaime all eyes Of former fancy; and implore his safety.