Sicily and Naples, or The Fatal Union · chunk 37 of 38
Harding, Samuel · published 1640 · first performed or written 1640 (Annals) not in BritDrama T11 Siblings, kin and confidants typicality 0.82 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
Felicia! Ha! murdered. My love. My sister! ravished: And murdered by! me, incestuous villain! Didst thou not tell me that Ferrando ravished her, And cast her to his slaves, a prey to their Bold appetites and furies. To incense you the more against him; I told you What I only did imagine, because at my return From Sicily, report whispered her lost, Lost in the ruins of my Father, Which made me think her murdered. Ye Gods! I now acknowledge you supreme: Your power is mighty over our fond arts. Silly projectors we ensnare ourselves! Whilst we spread nets for others. This brain has wrought all these sad plots, Calantha, take your Lord; who is as true, And holy in his vows, as those blessed Saints He invoked. And yet Felicia wronged? 'Twas I by whom she swelled, and not Ferrando, As 'twas supposed. Supposed! she swore 'twas he. Ursini, farewell; I'll hear the rest anon— That aggravates my crime, who wrought her into This false belief, for having long loved her, Without return of mutual flames, and at length Finding that the impediment was her fond Dotage upon the Prince; I determined, Rather than not to be possessed of her, To part with faith and loyalty, feigned all My visits for him, courted her acceptation Of his love, which I so darkly brought about That she consenting to private meetings As oft as she expected the Prince, I myself filled her arms.— Then you conclude Ferrando innocent? In act, or thought. Felicia! sister! your brother Frederico calls, She's gone, cold, cold! and pale, and yet methinks She smiles, look up, Felicia— But how came it to pass she ne'er descried you? For reasons I then gave her: all our meetings Were in the night, and that i'th' dark too, where I Dissembled so the Prince in voice and gesture.— This agrees right with her relation: villain thou haste undone me. And myself too. Death hangs upon her lids, 'tis eternal night with her. hoa, sister, stay, take me along with you; I'll follow you. Pernicious traitor. Rage chokes my utterance:— give me your sword. Our hearts and hands are yours: Our hearts and hands are yours: I'll be an age in killing thee, dost tremble? Thou look'st like one of those thin frozen ghosts, That chattering lie on hills of thick-ribbed Ice, Come meet my fury. Here, here's my heart. I: I'll dig it out, And cast it to the hungry fiends. My strength decays, I reel and totter like a cracked reed that leans against the winds. Take your sword.— madam. Take it I say. You do him too much honour. Managed with skill and strength, or thou affront'st My honour,— faint-hearted! coward, I'll follow thee to hell. Mercy heavens! Ho! Charon, more company, lie farther there jolt-head, what quarrelling you dogs? thy oar, thy oar ferryman: clap 'em o'th' sconce with't, there, there. The Gods are just. You wore their cause upon your sword.
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 2315–2386 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 37 of 38 in this edition
Length
497 words · 707 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T11 — Siblings, kin and confidantscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.824 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T15 · seed 44: T12 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Felicia! Ha! murder'd. My love. My ſiſter! raviſh't: And murder'd by! mee, inceſtuous villaine! Didſt thou not tell mee that Ferrando raviſh't her, And caſt her to his ſlaves, a prey to their Bold appetites and furies. To incenſe you the more againſt him; I told you What I onely did imagine, becauſe at my returne From Sicily, report whiſper'd her loſt, Loſt in the ruines of my Father, Which made mee thinke her murder'd. Ye Gods! I now acknowledge you ſupreame: Your power is mighty over our fond arts. Silly projectours we enſnare our ſelves! Whilſt we ſpread nets for others. This braine has wrought all theſe ſad plots, Calantha, take your Lord; who is as true, And holy in his vo wes, as thoſe bleſt Saints He invok't. And yet Felicia wrong'd? 'Twas I by whom ſhe ſwell'd, and not Ferrando, As 'twas ſuppos'd. Suppos'd! ſhe ſwore 'twas hee. Ʋrſini, farewell; I'le heare the reſt anon— That aggravates my crime, who wrought her into This falſe beliefe, for having long lov'd her, Without returne of mutuall flames, and at length Finding that the impediment was her fond Dotage upon the Prince; I determin'd, Rather than not to be poſſeſt of her, To part with faith and loyaltie, feign'd all My viſits for him, courted her acceptation Of his love, which I ſo darkly brought about That ſhe conſenting to private meetings As oft as ſhe expected the Prince, I my ſelfe fill'd her armes.— Then you conclude Ferrando innocent▪ In act, or thought. Felicia! ſiſter! your brother Frederico call's, She's gon, cold, cold! and pale, and yet methinkes She ſmiles, looke up, Felicia— But how came it to paſſe ſhe nere diſcry'd you? For reaſons I then gave her: all our meetings Were in the night, and that i'th darke too, where I Diſſembled ſo the Prince in voyce and geſture.— This agrees right with her relation: villaine thou haſte undone mee. And my ſelfe too. Death hangs upon her lids, 'tis eternall night with her. hoa, ſiſter, ſtay, take mee along with you; I'le follow you. Pernicious traytour. Rage choakes my utterance: — give mee your fword. Our hearts and hands are yours: Our hearts and hands are yours: Ile be an age in killing thee, do'ſt tremble? Thou look'ſt like one of thoſe thin frozen ghoſts, That chattering lye on hils of thicke-ribb'd Ice, Come meete my fury. Here, here's my heart. I: I'le dig it out, And caſt it to the hungry fiends. My ſtrength decayes, I reele and totter like a crack't reed that leanes againſt the windes. Take your ſword.— Madame. Take it I ſay. You do him too much honour. Manag't with skill and ſtrength, or thou affront'ſt My honour,—faint-hearted! coward, I'le follow thee to hell. Mercy heavens! Ho! Charon, more company, lye farther there jolt-head, what quarrelling you dogs? thy oare, thy oare ferriman: clap 'em o'th ſconce with't, there, there. The Gods are juſt. You wore their cauſe upon your ſword.