Shirley, James · published 1640 · first performed or written 1640 (Annals) not in BritDrama · Ogilby's Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.77 · 513 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
This temper is becoming, and thou dost Now appear worthy of our loves and presence. I knew when thy wise soul examined what It was to be the darling to a god, Thou wouldst compose thy gestures, and resign thyself to our great will: Which we accept And pardon thy first frailty; 'tis in us Emeria to translate thee hence to heaven, Without thy Body's separation, I'th' twinkling of an eye, but thou shalt live Here to convince erring mortality, That gods do visit such religious votaries In humane for me; and thus salute 'em. And thus be answered, with a resolute heart. Oh thou hast murdered me, Strumpet, hold. Sure if you be a god, you are above These wounds: If man thou hast deserved to bleed For thy impiety. My blood is punished, A curse upon thy hand, I am no god; I am the Prince, see Corybreus. Ha? the Prince? were you my ravisher my Lord? I have done a justice to the gods in this And my own honour. Thou lost thing to goodness; It was a glorious wound, and I am proud To be the God's revenger. Help, Oh I am lost. Call on the furies they did help thy sin, And will transport thy soul on their black wings To hell, Prince; and the gods can do no less, Than in reward to draw thy purple stream up, Shed in their cause, and place it a portent In heaven, to affright such foul lascivious Princes. I will live now, this story shall not fall so, And yet I must not stay here, now Conallus I have done some revenge for thee in this, Yet all this won't help me to my own Again; my honour of a virgin never will Return, I live and move, but wanting thee, At best I'm but a walking misery. My royal love, my Lady, and fair Mysteries, Such love as mine, was never read in histories. There's love, and love, good. The poison to my heart was not so cruel. As that I cannot hang thee, how's that, hang the Queen? The poison to my heart was not so cruel, As that I cannot hang thee, my rich jewel. Within my heart. Oh there's hang and jewel, and heart, and heart, good again. I am thy constant Elf, And dare for thy sweet sake, go hang myself. What though I am no Lord, yet I am loyal, There's a jingle upon the letter, to show if she will Give me but an inch, I'll take an ell; Lord and loyal, and though no prince I am thy servant royal. There's no figure in that, yes impossibility, servant and royal. Then grant him love for love, that doth present these, With Noverint universi per prefentes. there's to show I am a Linguist, with a rumme in the rhyme consisting of two several languages, beside love and love, thy jet and alabaster face. I eat because it draws the straw of my heart, and alabaster, because there is some white in her face,
nodes 1381–1436 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 22 of 34 in this edition
Length
513 words · 663 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.773 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
This temper is becoming, and thou dost Now appeare worthy of our loves and presence. I knew when thy wise soule examin'd what It was to be the darling to a god, Thou would'st compose thy gestures, and resigne Thy selfe to our great will: Which we accept And pardon thy first frailty; 'tis in us Emeria to translate thee hence to heaven, Without thy bodies separation, I'th twinckling of an eye, but thou sha't live Here to convince erring mortality, That gods do visit such religious votaries In humane for me; and thus salute 'em. And thus be answered, with a resolute heart. Oh thou hast murder'd me, Strumpet, hold. Sure if you be a god, you are above These wounds: If man thou hast deserv'd to bleed For thy impiety. My blood is punish'd, A curse upon thy hand, I am no god; I am the Prince, see Corybreus. Ha? the Prince? were you my ravisher my Lord? I have done a justice to the gods in this And my owne honour. Thou lost thing to goodnesse; It was a glorious wound, and I am proude To be the gods revenger. Hlp, Oh I am lost. Call on the furies they did help thy sinne, And will transport thy soule on their black wings To hell, Princ; and the gods can do no lesse, Than in reward to draw thy purple streame up, Shed in their cause, and place it a portent In heaven, to affright such foule lascivious Princes. I will live now, this story shall not fall so, And yet I must not stay here, now Conallus I have done some revenge for thee in this, Yet all this wonot hlp me to my owne Agen; my honour of a virgin never will Returne, I live and move, but wanting thee, At best I'me but a walking miserie. My royall love, my Lady, and faire Misteries, Such love as mine, was never read in histories. There's love, and love, good. The poyson to my heart was not so cruell. As that I cannot hang thee, how's that, hang the Queene? The poyson to my heart was not so cruell, As that I caot hang thee, my rich jewell. Within my heart. Oh there's hang and jewell, and heart, and heart, good agen. I am thy constant Elfe, And dare for thy sweet sake, go hang my slfe. What though I am no Lord, yet I am loyall, There's a gingle upon the letter, to shew if she will Give me but an inch, I'll take an ell; Lord and loyall, and though no prince I am thy servant royall. There's no figure in that, yes impossibility, servant and royall. Then grant him love for love, that doth present these, With Noverint universi per prefentes. there's to shew I am a Linguist, with a rumme in the rime consisting of two severall languages, beside love and love, thy jeat and alablaster face. I eat because it drawes the straw of my heart, and alablaster, because there is some white in her face,