The Ladies' Privilege (The Lady's Privilege) · chunk 23 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 0.72 · 523 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Yet my good Lords, I speak not this, that my particular vengeance, Because slew he my kinsman, has the least Aim at his life, which I would strive to cherish As my own health, or as the City's peace, For Magistrates ought to behold their crimes, Not the committers, as the Poets feign Of wise Tiresias, to want eyes, and only Have seeing understanding, for a judge Is guilty of the fault he does not punish, And if rewards and triumphs do adorn Deserts 'tis just that shame and punishments Should wait on vices, and how much more worthy The person is that acts them, so far sharper Should be the penalty inflicted on him. And when the law uses its utmost rigor, 'tis the crime, And not the man it sentences. In brief We must Decline his merit, and forget Our gratitude, and since his hand is dipped In civil blood, his life must expiate what His arm unfortunately committed. My Lords, The services which I have done the state, Were but my natural duty, I achieved 'em To gain me fame and glory, and you safety, and Should esteem them Traitors to honour, if their intercession Be a protection for my crimes, I mean not To plead to save a disrespected life, 'cause I fear death, a sea encompassed rock Is not less timorous of the assaulting waves, Than I of the grim monster, but there is A fame surviving which I would be loath, Should tell posterity I tamely yielded My head to th' Axe, and died because my spirit Durst not desire to live to quit this scandal, I hope what I can urge in my defence Shall have indifferent hearing. Speak freely. Know then my intention Is not by excuse to extenuate my fact, Which I confess most horrid, and would I pay A thousand showers of sorrow, could this hand Re-edify that goodly from of flesh Which it demolished, but my priceless fame, In whose dear cause I slew him, will to justice Boldly proclaim, I did no more than what The truth I owe my reputation tells me, Was right in point of honour. But the law Does disallow it as unjust, and that Must be your judge, and not that idle breath Which you abusively term honour. Your laws cannot without partiality pronounce judgement against me, for they do acquit That man of guilt that to defend his life Is forced to slay his enemy; my act Carries the same condition, since my fame, Whose safety urged me to kill him, is my life, My immortal life, as far transcending this As the soul does the body, for the sword, Returns that to its primitive matter dust, And there it rests forgotten, but a wound Struck upon reputation, leaves a brand, So self diffusive is dishonours guilt, Even to posterity, and does revive After 'thas suffered martyrdom. Yet this Cannot excuse your fact, for civil reason Allows a reparation for the loss Of fame, but gives no man a lawful licence To snatch the privilege from the hands of justice, Which would dispose it equally.
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 1521–1594 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 23 of 31 in this edition
Length
523 words · 651 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.718 (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)
Yet my good Lords, I speake not this, that my particular vengeance, Because slew he my kinsman, has the least Ayme at his life, which I would strive to cherish As my owne health, or as the Cities peace, For Magistrates ought to behold their crimes, Not the committers, as the Poets faine Of wise Tyresias, to want eyes, and only Have seeing understanding, for a judge Is guilty of the fault he does not punish, And if rewards and triumphs doe adorne Deserts tis just that shame and punishments Should wait on vices, and how much more worthy The person is that acts them, so farre sharper Should be the penalty inflicted on him. And when the law Vses its utmost rigor, tis the crime, And not the man it sentences. In briefe We must Decline his merit, and forget Our gratitude, and since his hand is dipt In civill blood, his life must expiat what His arme unfortunately committed. My Lords, The services which I have done the state, Were but my naturall duty, I atchieved 'em To gaine me fame and glory, and you safety, and Should esteeme them Traytors to honour, if their intercession Be a protection for my crimes, I meane not To plead to save a dis-respected life, Cause I feare death, a sea incompass'd rocke Is not lesse timerous of the assaulting waves, Then I of the grimme monster, but there is A fame surviving which I would be loath, Should tell posterity I tamely yeelded My head to th' Axe, and dyed because my spirit Durst not desire to live to quit this scandall, I hope what I can urge in my defence Shall have indifferent hearing. Speake freely. Know then my intention Is not by excuse to extenuate my fact, Which I confesse most horrid, and woud I pay A thousand showers of sorrow, could this hand Reedifie that goodly from of flesh Which it demolisht, but my pricelesse fame, In whose deere cause I slew him, will to justice Boldly proclaime, I did no more then what The truth I owe my reputation tells me, Was right in poynt of honor. But the law Does disallow it as unjust, and that Must be your judge, and not that idle breath Which you abusively terme honor. Your lawes cannot without partiality pronounce Iudgement against me, for they doo acquit That man of guilt that to defend his life Is forc'd to slay his enemy; my act Carries the same condition, since my fame, Whose safety urg'd me to kill him, is my life, My immortall life, as farre transcending this As the soule does the body, for the sword, Returnes that to its primitive matter dust, And there it rests forgotten, but a wound Strucke upon reputation, leaves a brand, So selfe diffusive is dishonors guilt, Even to posterity, and does revive After t'has sufferd martyrdome. Yet this Cannot excuse your fact, for civill reason Allowes a reparation for the losse Of fame, but gives no man a lawfull licence To snatch the priviledge from the hands of justice, Which would dispose it equally.