Day, John · published 1608 · first performed or written 1604 [1604-1607] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T11 Siblings, kin and confidants typicality 0.69 · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
Wrong not the Law. I cannot, 'tis divine: And i'll compare it to a golden chain, That links the body of a commonwealth, Into a firm and formal Union. It holds the sword, with an impartial hand, Curbs in the rains of an unruly land, 'tis twined to justice, and with holy zeal, Rightly determines the poor man's appeal. And those that are laws true administers, Are fathers to the wronged, heaven's justicers. Fore-god 'tis true, right properties of the Law But under favour, and with due respect Of that unvalued pearl, and the professors, yourself and such lack-latin Advocates Infect the heart, and do their best to change The true intent of sanctimonious law. Turn Church yards Champions, and make the ground grown rank with grandsire's flesh, Bear corn to feed the Son. Will this be suffered? But Polymetes, in thy stay at Pisa, When heardst thou of thy Sister? Much to late, The reason, with your patience i'll relate. Beauteous Emilia, whom I never saw, But in the Rhetoric of discursive tongues In Sancta Monta, neighbour to Sardinia, Where silver Arno in her Crystal bosom, Courts the fresh banks with many an amorous kiss. My Sister (as the country custom claimed) With all the choicest virgins of the Land, Met at the Temple, halfe a league remote, From all resort of people, which was decked With all the Relics, and the choicest gems, Marseilles, Pisa, or Leghorn could yield. What followed this rich preparation? Whilst they securely tend their Orisons, Three armed Galleys of the faithless Turks, At this advantage set their men on shore, Entered the Temple, and profaned their shrines, On the high Altar sacrificed the Priests, Disrayed the Temple of the golden robes, Murdered the matrons, ravished the Maids, And dragging them by the disheveled hair, Did with their ravished bodies fill their boats, Amongst the rest, Emilia whom report Called by no name but only beautiful, Was ravished, slain, or taken prisoner. O Polymetes! thy discourse confounds, Thou healst old hurts, yet giv'st us deeper wounds, But words are air, see our armed Galleys manned, And in them place as many of our Knights As loved Emilia and their sovereign's health. I'll unto Pisa, and till our return, Because our widowed Dukedom shall not mourn. Be thou her minion, and possess her chair, Fill that with honour, 'twill fill thee with care, Urgeno denials, Genowa's a dew, we leave old griefs, and go in quest of new. Better and better, now my hopes are fit, The Duke thus gone, what tongue so bold dares say I wronged my wife? That dares Horatio's. Thou art myself, we both have but one bosom One tongue, one soul, two bodies & one heart. I know't my Lord. 'tis true, but let that pass, we two are one. I know your honour's wise. And I know thee For no small fool, 'twas simple policy, And not without some counsel of the law, That not withstanding my wives near alliance Unto the Duke, I purchased a divorce.
nodes 154–227 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 3 of 31 in this edition
Length
508 words · 727 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T11 — Siblings, kin and confidantscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.694 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T12 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Wrong not the Law. I cannot, tis diuine: And ile compare it to a golden chaine, That linkes the body of a common-wealth, Into a firme and formall Vnion. It holds the ſword, with an impartiall hand, Curbs in the raines of an vnruly land, Tis twin'd to Iuſtice, and with holy zeale, Rightly determines the poore mans appeale. And thoſe that are lawes true adminiſters, Are fathers to the wrong'd, heauen's Iuſticers. Fore-god tis true, right properties of the Law But vnder fauour, and with due reſpect Of that vnualued perle, and the profeſſors, Your ſelfe and ſuch lacke-Latin Aduocates Infect the heart, and doe their beſt to change The true intent of ſanctimonious law. Turne Church yards Champions, and make the ground growne rancke w th Grandſires fleſh, Beare corne to feed the Sonne. Will this be ſuffer'd? But Polymetes, in thy ſtay at Piſa, When heardſt thou of thy Siſter? Much to late, The reaſon, with your patience ile relate. Beautious Emilia, whome I neuer ſaw, But in the Rhethorique of diſcourſiue tongues In Sancta Monta, neighbour to Sardinia, Where ſiluer Arno in her Chriſtall boſome, Courts the freſh bancks with many an amorous kiſſe. My Siſter (as the countrie cuſtome claim'd) With all the choyceſt virgins of the Land, Met at the Temple▪ halfe a league remote, From all reſort of people, which was deck'd With all the Reliques, and the choiceſt lemmes, Marcellis, Piſa, or Ligorne could yeeld. What follow'd this rich preparation? Whilſt they ſecurely end their Orizons, Three armed Gallies of the faithleſſe Turkes, At this aduantage ſet their men on ſhore, Enterd the Temple, and prophande their ſhrines, On the high Altar ſacrifiz'd the Prieſts, Diſray'd the Temple of the golden robes, Murder'd the matrons, rauiſhed the Maides, And dragging them by the diſheueld haire, Did with their rauiſh'd bodies fill their boates, Amongſt the reſt, Emilia whome report Cald by no name but onely beautifull, Was rauiſh'd, ſlaine, or taken priſoner. O Polymetes! thy diſcourſe confounds, Thou healſt old hurts, yet giu'ſt vs deeper wounds, But words are ayre, ſee our arm'd Gallies man'd, And in them place as many of our Knights As lou'd Emilia and their Soueraignes health. Ile vnto Piſa, and till our returne, Becauſe our widowed Duke-dome ſhall not mourne. Be thou her minion, and poſſeſſe her chaire, Fill that with honour, t'will fill thee with care, Vrgeno denialls, Genowaes a dew, Wee leaue old greefes, and goe in queſt of new. Better and better, now my hopes are fit, The Duke thus gone, what tongue ſo bold dares ſay I wrong'd my wife? That dares Horatioes. Thou art my ſelf, we both haue but one boſome One tongue, one ſoule, two bodies & one heart. I know't my Lord. Tis true, but let that paſſe, Wee two are one. I know your honour's wiſe. And I know thee For no ſmall foole, twa's ſimple pollicie, And not without ſome counſel of the lawe, That not withſtanding my wiues neere allyance Vnto the Duke, I purchac'd a diuorce.