Shirley, James · published 1640 · first performed or written 1640 (Annals) not in BritDrama · Ogilby's Men unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
He durst not Sir, approach your royal presence. And grief for the sad fate of his two sons, Hath made him weary of society: Not far off in a wood, he means to wear out His life in prayer and penance. How do you taste it? 'Tis rare, and must succeed to my ambition. Lose no time time then. I fly, command me ever. I am not well o'th' sudden. How? what is't That doth offend the King? An evil conscience: Alas my children. Father. Sir. Pray speak to us. How shall I Win credit with this good man, that I have Repented, for the blood of Dichu's sons? If you dissemble not with heaven, I can Be easily gained Sir, to believe and pray for you. Some wine, it is the greatest ceremony Of love with us, the seal of reconcilement. Let some one bring us wine, I won't move, Until I drink to this blessed man. Away. This place shall be remembered to posterity, Where Leogarius first, showed himself friend To holy Patrick. 'Tis religious thirst, That will not let me expect, till more return. There is a stream of peace within my heart. 'tis rarely counterfeited. He is my father, I should else tell him; 'tis not like a King, Thus to conspire a poor man's death. What thinks Our royal mother? Is it just to take By stratagem, this innocent man's life. What means my son? Shall I betray the plot Yet? and preserve him: see the wine. The wine Attends you Sir. 'tis well, fill us a cheerful cup: here Patrick, We drink thy welcome to the Irish coasts. What does my father mean to do with this Dull thing? he'll never make a courtier. His very looks have turned my blood already. I'll spice his cup. Do't strongly. There's something within prompts me to pity This stranger. Do you love wine Sir? If I did not, I should presume against my nature once To please the King that hath thus honoured us. Do not, I say do not. Please you Sir? Come, to our Queen. My royal love, would I had the grace to drink to her or kiss the cup. My duty. Now observe Sir the change, he has it home. I cannot live, my heart won't hold out. Forbear, as you affect your life. How's this? now I suspect Conallus. I have one boon to ask your Majesty; Since you look on us with this gracious smile: That you would give my poor companions leave, To build a little chapel in this place, It shall be the first monument of your love; To use our own religion, the ground offers Plenty of stone, the cost and pain be ours. Not yet? 'Twill bind us ever to pray for you. If it were violent, as thou sayst, it had By this time gnawn to his bowels. Sir, you mind not The humble suit I make. Not yet? Great Sir.
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)
He durst not Sir, approach your royall presence. And griefe▪ for the sad fate of his two sonnes, Hath made him weary of society: Not farre off in a wood, he meanes to weare out His life in prayer and pennance. How do you tast it? 'Tis rare, and must succeede to my ambition. Loose no time time then▪ I fly, command me ever. I am not well o'th' suddaine. How? what ist That doth offend the King? An evill conscience: Alas my children. Father. Sir. Pray speake to us. How shall I Win credit with this good man, that I have Repented, for the bloud of Dichues sonnes? If you dissemble not with heaven, I can Be easily gain'd Sir, to beleeve and pray for you. Some wine, it is the greatest ceremony Of love with us, the seale of reconcilement. Let some one bring us wine, I wo'not move, Untill I drink to this blest man. Away. This place shall be remembred to posterity, Wher Leogarius first, shew'd himself friend To holy Patrick. 'Tis religious thirst, That wil not lt me expect▪ till more returne. There is a streame of peace within my heart. Tis rarely counterfeited. He is my father, I should tell him; Tis not like a King, Tus to conpire a poore mans death. What thinks Our royall mother? Is it just to take By stratagemme, this innocent mans life. What meanes my sonne? Shall I betray the plot Yet? and preserve him: see the wine. The wine Attends you Sir. Tis well, ill us a cheerefull cup: here Patrick, We drink thy welcome to the Irish coasts. What does my father meane to doe with this Dull thing? hee'le never make a courtier. His very lookes have turn'd my blood already. I'll spice his cup. Doo't strongly. There's something within prompts me to pitty This stranger. Do you love wine Sir? If I did not, I should presume against my nature once To please the King that hath thus honoured us. Do not, I say do not. Please you Sir? Come, to our Queene. My royall love, would I had the grace to drink to her or kisse the cup. My dutie. Now observe Sir the change, he has it home. I cannot live, my heart wonot hold out. Forbeare, as you affect your life. How's this? now I suspect Conallus. I have one boone to ask your Mjestie; Since you look on us with this gracious smile: That you would give my poore companions leave, To build a little chappell in this place, It shall be the first monument of your love; To use our owne religion, the ground offers Plenty of stone, the cost and paine be urs. Not yet? 'Twill bind us ever to pray for you. If it were violent, as thou say'st, it had By this time gnawne to his bowels. Sir, you mind not The humble suit I make. Not yet? Great Sir.