Sicily and Naples, or The Fatal Union · chunk 24 of 38
Harding, Samuel · published 1640 · first performed or written 1640 (Annals) not in BritDrama unassigned nearest T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Ladies, pray absent yourselves a while;— With child? impudent whore! to what cursed lump Have thy sins swollen thee? Oh, me miserable! Hence ingrate wretch! that hast abused my favours So far, till thou hast made a sin of charity: Ha! dost weep?— My rare dissembler! those tears which art hath taught To flow, carry more sinful cunning in 'em, Than those the flattering Syrens wear upon Their cheeks, when they court man to ruin: Yet tell me ere you go, whom have those looks Beguiled, and trained into your sinful arms. You must prepare yourself for a sad story then: Yes, like enough, a tale as sad, and dismal As that of Troy, and as much truth in't too! Quickly, dispatch, before my anger prove Too masculine!— and be modest inth' relation. You'll wished untold. Undone I do! but why This tedious circumstance? it does involve Your guilt. Know then, that when I was myself My name was— What? Felicia Alberto's daughter? Yes his— that was once Alberto Durazzo's far-famed marquess; till His cruel Master seized on's life, and honours, At his return from Sicily i'th' first wars; Where he received a fatal overthrow. He was in action bold, and valiant! However fortune wrought him this disgrace; Here! here began my misery. Proceed, trust me I now begin to pity thee. Then let me die without your farther knowledge Of my mishap; 'twill be injurious Unto my ashes, and disturb their quiet; I know it will; Nay, prithee tell me, come, and I'll weep with thee. You'll have cause enough ere I've done; Therefore don't hear't; Is there ought in't concerns me? Too much Nay, than I must, and will have all the story, Or think thee a foul prostitute. 'Tis thus then! Yet don't believe me, say that I was mad, Distracted with my sorrows, that my words Fell so uneven from me, you mistook The sense; say any thing.— Come, come, I know thou wilt tell truth! Or may I never find peace hereafter! How I fear Whether this story tends? The King madam. Ferrando;— (Seize me Courteous death, Or I shall poison all her joys;) Ha! what of him? Be sudden, or, I swear by my just anger, I'll straight rip up the cradle of thy lust, The den where all thy loose adulteries Were acted; search each corner of thy womb. That keeps a record of thy villainies! Ferrando was the author of my fall: More lying than that evil Genius That wrought the first man's fall! Ferrando! oh! oh! (Swoons) Thou rebel passion jealousy! what mean'st thou To tumult in my breast?— ha! yet why not? Why may not he be false? Oh! oh! oh! 'tis so!— Felicia!— she's gone, she's gone! Help there, Florinda! Violetta! ladies! So— she begins to breathe;— look up Felicia! Where am I? Here,— a medal? this confirms it; Ferrando and Felicia! Ha! the Princess! Beshrew me but I've had a fearful dream! I hope 'twas but a dream;
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Ladies, pray abſent your ſelves a while; — — With child? impudent whore! to what curſ'd lumpe Have thy ſinnes ſwolne thee? Oh, me miſerable! Hence ingrate wretch! that haſt abuſ'd my favours So farre, till thou haſt made a ſin of charitie: — Ha! doſt weepe? — My rare diſſembler! thoſe teares which art hath taught To flow, carry more ſinfull cunning in 'em, Then thoſe the flattering Syrens weare upon Their cheekes, when they court man to ruine: Yet tell me ere you goe, whom have thoſe lookes Beguil'd, and train'd into your ſinfull armes. You muſt prepare your ſelfe for a ſad ſtory then: Yes, like enough, a tale as ſad, and diſmall As that of Troy, and as much truth in't too! Quickly, diſpatch, before my anger prove Too maſculine!—and be modeſt in'th relation. You'le wiſh't untold. Undone I doe! but why This tedious circumſtance? it do's involve Your guilt. Know then, that when I was my ſelfe My name was— What? Felicia Alberto's daughter? Yes his—that was once Alberto Durazzo's farre-fam'd Marqueſſe; till His cruell Maſter ſeiz'd on's life, and honours, At his returne from Sicily i'th firſt warres; Where he receiv'd a fatall overthrow. He was in action bold, and valiant! However fortune wrought him this diſgrace; Here! here began my miſery. Proceede, truſt me I now begin to pitty thee. Then let me die without your farther knowledge Of my miſhap; t'will be injurious Unto my aſhes, and diſturbe their quiet; I know it will; Nay, prithee tell me, come, and I'le weepe with thee. You'le have cauſe enough ere I've done; Therefore don't hear't; Is there ought in't concernes me? Too much Nay, then I muſt, and will have all the ſtory, Or thinke thee a foule proſtitute. 'Tis thus then! —Yet do'nt beleeve me, ſay that I was mad, Diſtracted with my ſorrowes, that my words Fell ſo uneven from me, you miſtooke The ſenſe; ſay any thing.— Come, come, I know thou wilt tell truth! Or may I never finde peace hereafter! How I feare Whether this ſtory tends? The King Madame. Ferrando;—(Seize me Courteous death, Or I ſhall poyſon all her joyes;) Ha! what of him? Be ſudden, or, I ſweare by my juſt anger, I'le ſtreight rip up the cradle of thy luſt, The den where all thy looſe adultery's Were acted; ſearch each corner of thy wombe. That keepes a record of thy villanyes! Ferrando was the author of my fall: More lying then that evill Genius That wrought the firſt mans fall! Ferrando! oh! oh! (Swoons) Thou rebell paſſion jealouſy! what mean'ſt thou To tumult in my breaſt?—ha! yet why not? Why may not he be falſe? Oh! oh! oh! T'is ſo!—Felicia!—ſhe's gone, ſhe's gone! Helpe there, Florinda! Violetta! Ladyes! Soe—ſhe begins to breath;—looke up Felicia! Where am I? Here,—a medall? this confirmes it; Ferrando and Felicia! Ha! the Princeſſe! Beſhrew me but I've had a fearefull dreame! I hope t'was but a dreame;