Day, John · published 1608 · first performed or written 1604 [1604-1607] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.86 · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I cannot rest, my guilt keeps ope mine eyes. My passion rips my bosom, and my blood Is turned to poisoned water, and so swells, That my vexed soul, endures a thousand hells. If I chance slumber, than I dream of Serpents, Toads, altogether, and such venomous evils, As hale me from my sleep like forked Devils, Midnight, thou Aethiop, Empress of black souls, Thou general Bawd to the whole word, I salute thee, Wishing thy poison dropped upon my brain, For my so rude, so rash, so heedless murder, In the ambition & the height of lust, Not giving my blood liberty to cool. To poison such a beauty, O black Fate! Thus many killed, too soon repent too late. Soft, stay, this same's the chilly monument, That hugs her body in his marble arms. Thou gentle soul of my deceased love? O, wert but possible to enjoy thy voice, Thy sweet Harmonious voice, I should be blessed, But e'en to dally with thy syllables, O tomb. No tomb but Cistern filled with tears. O heart! No heart, but sink of grief and fears. Countess, soul shadow, shadow speak again Speak again. What should I speak, my hate, or thy huge wrongs? huge wrongs. huge wrongs indeed, but charitable soul, What ransom shall I pay thee for thy life? Thy life. My life? life. Discourteous air, My blood is frozen with despair. Despair. Pardon forgive me, shall I go? I go. But shall your hate pursue me, I or no? No. Adieu my grief and i'll go sleep. Pray God my tongue can my heart's counsel keep Ha? are you vanished? let me see, a may be fallen asleep against some pillar, for i'll be sworn a talked very idly, about decessit evasit erupit, I would fain know that Wag that can put me down for a woman's Ghost extempore, especially if it were to be performed under a tomb cloth, but here lay the desperate venture, had she chanced to have risen, and spoke before her cue, as about this time she must 'tice, or my sleepy drink plays, the drowsy companion with her. Heart a me, my master again, what cross points are these? I see I must betake me to my late refuge. It was no Ghost, subtle opinion, Working in man's decayed faculties, Cuts out and shapes illusive fantasies, And our weak apprehensions like wax, Receive thee from, and presently convey Unto our dull imagination. And hereupon we ground a thousand lies, As that we see Devils rattling their chains, Ghosts of dead men, variety of spirits, When our own guilty conscience is the hell. and our black thoughts, the Caverns where they dwell: Yet sure this was her shadow, for I hear Her last words sound still dancing in mine ear. Then gentle soul, if thou be'st yet unthroned, Answer one question and no more. No more? May my hearts true repentance satisfy, My wilful murder, your reply. I. Thanks, thousand thanks, and so farewell. Farewell.
nodes 1292–1357 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 25 of 31 in this edition
Length
502 words · 695 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.861 (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)
I cannot reſt, my guilt keepes ope mine eyes. My paſſion rips my boſome, and my blood Is turn'd to poyſoned water, and ſo ſwels, That my vext ſoule, endures a thouſand hels. If I chance ſlumber, then I dreame of Serpents, Toades, altogether, and ſuch venomous euils, As hale me from my ſleepe like forked Deuils, Midnight, thou Aethiope, Empreſſe of black ſoules, Thou general Bawde to the whole word, I ſalute thee, Wiſhing thy poiſon dropt vpon my braine, For my ſo rude, ſo raſh, ſo heedeles murther, In the ambition & the height of luſt, Not giuing my blood libertie to coole. To poiſon ſuch a beautie, O black Fate! Thus many killd, too ſoone repent too late. Soft, ſtay, this ſames the chilly monument, That huggs her bodie in his marble armes. Thou gentle ſoule of my deceaſed loue? O, wert but poſſible to inioy thy voice, Thy ſweet Harmonious voice, I ſhould be bleſt, But Eene to dally with thy ſilables, O tombe. No tombe but Ceſterne fild with teares. O heart! No heart, but ſinke of greefe and feares. Counteſſe, ſoule ſhaddow, ſhadow ſpeak again▪ Speake agen. What ſhould I ſpeake, my hate, or thy huge wrongs? Hudge wrongs. Hudge wrongs indeede, but charitable ſoule, What ranſome ſhall I pay thee for thy life? Thy life. My life? life. Diſcourteous ayre, My blood is frozen with diſpaire. Diſpaire. Pardon forgiue me, ſhall I goe? I goe. But ſhall your hate purſue me, I or no? No. Adieu my greefe and ile go ſleepe. Pray God my tongue can my hearts coūſel keep Ha? are you vaniſht? let me ſee, a may be fallen a ſleepe againſt ſome pillar, for ile be ſworn a talk'd verie idely, Abut deceſſit euaſit erupit, I would fain know that Wag that can put me down for a womans Ghoaſt extempore, eſpecially if it were to be performde vnder a tombe cloath, but heere lay the deſperate venter, had ſhe chaunc'd to haue riſen, and ſpoke before hir qu, as about this time ſhe muſt tiſe, or my ſleepie drinke plaies, the drowſie companion with her. Hart a me, my maiſter againe, what croſſe points are theſe? I ſee I muſt betake me to my late refuge. It was no Ghoaſt, ſubtile opinion, Working in mans decayed faculties, Cuts out and ſhapes illuſiue fantaſies, And our weak apprehenſions like wax, Receiue the frome, and preſently conuey Vnto our dull immagination. And hereupon we ground a thouſand lyes, As that we ſee Deuils ratling their chaines, Gaſtes of dead men, varietie of ſpirits, When our owne guiltie conſcience is the hell. and our black thoughts, the Cauerns where they dwel: Yet ſure this was her ſhadow, for I heare Her laſt words ſound ſtill dauncing in mine eare. Then gentle ſoule▪ if thou beeſt yet vnthronde, Anſwere one queſtion and no more. No more? May my hearts true repentance ſatiſfie, My wiful▪ murther, your replie. I. Thanks, thouſand thanks, and ſo farewell. Farewell.