Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Let me eternally perish to honour, If their heads answer not for this foul insolence. Though't be a sin of that portentous bulk, That 't startles all the gods, and justice self Wakes from a long dead lethargy to meet it: Yet Kings are great as they, and spite of fate Or rigorous laws, may triumph in their mercy. Away with 'em to execution; Him, and his fellow murderer, away: Pardon a Traitor? Though you might urge, 'twere treason of that height, That none but they could think of, much less act: That murder cries for murder, blood for blood: That he whose innocence they sacrificed To their mad fury, was your loyal subject; This on your marriage day— to affront Hymen. And when your nuptial torch burned brightest, dead it With blood, into a sickly glimmmering taper: That they should dare assault me!— i'th' Court— One whom your goodness has been pleased to look Into a life, and honours, placed i'th' state, Only to interpose myself between, And meet all dangers that are shot at you. 'Twas a murder Intended on our person, but that Heaven— Was just in the prevention; True it might be so, And were it, yet upon submission Such faults have been remitted. Away with 'em, I'll hear no more. Down holy anger!— One word, and I'm gone— you are my Sovereign, And there's divinity worn in that title, Which I adore, and think myself as happy In this so early doom, since you are pleased with't, As heaven had spoke it; though not till old age, When nature claimed it as a due! Yet Sir Be gentle to my memory; and if At any time my crimes appear before you, Fresh in your thought, to stain my Heraldry, The happy mention of my virtuous acts, From some that love my dust, shall rise to plead My innocence—; and may you never live To curse th' untimely hand; or hour that robbed you Of so much loyalty!— for you Ursini— If ere your name shall fall in mention, when I come i'th' other world, expect me not Your friend; I fear me, I shall tell sad tales In th'ears of heaven;— Farewell— Impudent Traitor! Yet still I dare be good; and spite of all His hate, or malice to me, thus stand up To beg his life. Not after so much injury? Yes, if Valenzo dare be sinful still In wrongs, it shall be called my piety To suffer. thouart all goodness;— for thy sake we'll mix some mercy with our doom, He that submits first to thee, has his pardon, See justice done on th'other; this sentence Shall stand irrevocable;— This sentence stand irrevocable? Plague to your easy nature!— Ha! this 'tis to overact; how have I almost fooled myself, out Of my own plots; I were in a fine case now, if Piero Should not accept a life on this condition. I'll send to him— Cassio! Grutti! who waits there?—
University/Inns of Court;Closet/Unacted;Nonprofessional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 1153 · TCP A02629 · DEEP 986
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 1357–1424 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 23 of 38 in this edition
Length
497 words · 684 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.882 (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)
—Let mee eternally periſh to honour, If their heads anſwer not for this foule inſolence. Though't be a ſin of that portentous bulke, That 'tſtartles all the gods, and juſtice ſelfe Wakes from a long dead lethargie to meete it: Yet Kings are great as they, and ſpight of fate Or rigorous lawes, may triumph in their mercy. Away with 'em to execution; Him, and his fellow murderer, away: —Pardon a Traytour? Though you might urge, 'twere treaſon of that height, That none but they could thinke of, much leſſe act: That murder cries for murder, blood for blood: That he whoſe innocence they ſacrific'd To their mad fury, was your loyall ſubject; This on your marriage day — to affront Hymen. And when your nuptiall torch burnt brighteſt, dead it With bloud, into a ſickly glimmmering taper: That they ſhould dare aſſault me! — i'th' Court — One whom your goodneſſe has bin pleaſ'd to looke Into a life, and honours, plac't i'th' ſtate, Only to interpoſe my ſelfe betweene, And meet all dangers that are ſhot at you. 'Twas a murder Intended on our perſon, but that Heaven — Was juſt in the prevention; True it might be ſo, And were it, yet upon ſubmiſſion Such faults have beene remitted. Away with 'em, I'le heare no more. Downe holy anger! — One word, and I'me gone— you are my Soveraigne, And there's divinitie worne in that title, Which I adore, and thinke my ſelfe as happy In this ſo early doome, ſince you are pleaſ'd with't, As heaven had ſpoke it; though not till old age, When nature claim'd it as a due! Yet Sir Be gentle to my memory; and if At any time my crimes appeare before you, Freſh in your thought, to ſtaine my Heraldrie, The happy mention of my vertuous acts, From ſome that love my duſt, ſhall riſe to pleade My innocence—; and may you never live To curſe th' untimely hand; or houre that rob'd you Of ſo much loyaltie!— for you Ʋrſini— If ere your name ſhall fall in mention, when I come i'th other world, expect me not Your friend; I feare me, I ſhall tell ſad tales In th'eares of heaven;—Farewell — Impudent Traytour! Yet ſtill I dare be good; and ſpight of all His hate, or malice to me, thus ſtand up To begge his life. Not after ſo much injury? Yes, if Valenzo dare be ſinfull ſtill In wrongs, it ſhall be call'd my piety To ſuffer. Th'art all goodneſſe;—for thy ſake Wee'le mixe ſome mercy with our doome, He that ſubmits firſt to thee, has his pardon, See juſtice done on th'other; this ſentence Shall ſtand irrevocable;— This ſentence ſtand irrevocable? Plague to your eaſie nature! — Ha! this 'tis to over-act; how have I almoſt fool'd my ſelf, out Of my owne plots; I were in a fine caſe now, if Piero Should not accepta life on this condition. I'le ſend to him—Caſſio! Grutti! who waites there? —