Heywood, Thomas · published 1608 · first performed or written 1607 [1606-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Anne's Men · Red Bull unassigned nearest T60 Imperial Rome: rulers, favour and politi · 546 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T60: caesar, rome, emperor, empire, honour, lord, lucius, great, palsgrave, kings.
Night be as secret as thou art close, as close as thou art black and darke, thou ominou. Qene Of tenebrous silence, make this fatal hour, as true to Rape as thou hast made it kind To murder and harsh mischief: Cinthea mask thy cheek, And all you sparkling elemental fires, Choke up your beauties in prodigious fogs, Or be extinct in some thick vaporous cloud, lest you behold my practice: I am bound Upon a black adventure, on a deed That must wound virtue, and make beauty bleed. Pause Sextus, and before thou run'st thyself Into this violent danger, weigh thy sin, Thou art yet free, beloved, graced in the Camp, Of great opinion and undoubted hope, Rome's darling in the universal grace, Both of the field, and senate: were these fortunes To make thee great in both, back yet, thy fame Is free from hazard, and thy style from shame. Of fate, thou hast usurped such power over man, That where thou pleadst thy will, no mortal can. On then, black mischief hurry me the way. myself I must destroy, her life betray, The state of King and Subject, the displeasure Of Prince and people, the revenge of noble, And the contempt of base, the incurred vengeance Of my wronged kinsman Collatine, the Treason AGainst divinest Lucrece: all these total curses Foreseen not feared upon me Sextus meet, To make my days harsh so so this might be sweet No jar of clock no ominous hateful howl Of any starting Hound, no horse rough breathed from the Of any drowsy Groom, wakes this charmed silence, entrails discovered in her bed and starts this general silence forward still, Lucr. To make thy lust live, all thy virtues kill. Here, here, behold! beneath these Curtains lies, That bright enchantress that hath dazed my eyes. Oh who but Sextus could commit such waste? On one so fair, so kind, so truly chaste? Or like a ravisher thus rudely stand, To offend this face, this brow, this lip, this hand? Or at such fatal hours, these revels keep, With thought once to defile thy innocent sleep, Save in this breast, such thoughts could find no place, Or pay with treason her kind hospital grace: But I am lust-burnt, all bent on what's bad, That which should calm good thoughts makes Tarquin mad. Madam, Lucrece? whose's that? oh me! beshrew you. Sweet, 'tis I. What I? Make room. My Husband Collatine Thy husband's at the Camp. Here is no room for any man save him. Grant me that grace. What are you? Tarquin and thy friend, and must enjoy thee. Heaven such sins defend. Why do you tremble Lady? cease this fear, I am alone, there's no suspicious ear, That can bewray this deed: nay start not sweet. Dream I, or am I full awake? oh no! I know I dream to see Prince Tarquin so. Sweet Lord awake me, rid me from this terror, I know you for a Prince, a Gentleman, Royal and honest, one that loves my Lord. And would not wrack a woman's chastity, For Rome's imperial Diadem, oh then Pardon this dream, for being awake I know, Prince Sextus, Rome's great hope, would not for shame Provoke his own wrath, or despoil my fame.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Night be as secret as thou art close, as close as thou art black and darke, thou ominou. Qene Of Tenebrouse filence, make this fatall hower, as true to Rape as thou hast made it kinde To murder and harsh mischiefe: Cintheamaske thy cheeke, And all you sparkling Elamentall fires, Choke vp your beauties in prodigious fogges, Or be extinct in some thick aparous clowde, Least you beholde my practise: I am bound Vpon a blacke aduenture, on a deede That must wound vertue, and make beautie bleede. Pause Sextus, and before thou runst thy selfe Into this violent danger, weigh thy sinne, Thou art yet free, belou'd, grac'd in the Campe, Of great opinion and vndoubted hope, Romes daling in the vniuersall grace, Both of the field, and senate: were these fortunes To make thee great in both, backe yet, thy fame Is free from hazard, and thy stile from shame. Of fate, thou hast vsurpt such power ouer man, That where thou pldst thy will, no mortall can. On then, black mischiefe hurrie me the way. My selfe I must destroy, her life betray, The state of King and Subiect, the displeasure Of Prince and people, the reuenge of noble, And the contempt of base, the incurdvengnce Of my wrongd kinsman Colatine, the Treason A Gainst diuin'st Lucrece: all these total cursses Foreseene not fearde vppon me Sextus meete, To make my daies harshso so this might be sweete No iarre of clocke no ominous hatefull howle Of any starting Hound, no horse rogh breath'd from the Of any drowsie Groom, wakes this charm'd silence, entrals discouerd in her bed and starts this generall silence forward stil, Lucr. To make thy luste liue, all thy vertues kill. Heere, heere, beholde! beneath these Curtaines lyes, That bright enchantresse that hath dazd my eies. Oh who but Sextus could commit such waste? On one so faire, so kinde, so truely chaste? Or like a rauisher thus rudely stand, To offend this face, this brow, this lip, this hand? Or at such fatall houres, these reuells keepe, With thought once to defile thy innocent sleepe, Saue in this brest, such thoughts could finde no place, Or pay with treason her kind hospitall grace: But I am lust-burnt, all bent on what's bad, That which should calme good thoughts makes Tarquin mad. Madam, Lucresse? Whose that? oh me! beshrew you. Sweete, tis I. What I? Make roome. My Husband Colatine Thy husband's at the Campe. Here is no roome for any man saue him. Graunt me that grace. What are you? Tarquin and thy friend, and must enioy thee. Heauen such sinnes defend. Why doe you tremble Lady? cease this feare, I am alone, there's no suspitious , That can bewray this deede: nay start not sweete. Dreame I, or am I full awake? oh no! I know I dreame to see Prince Tarquin so. Sweet Lord awake me, rid me from this terror, I know you for a Prince, a Gentleman, Royall and honest, one that loues my Lord. And would not wrack a womans chastitie, For Romes imperiall Diademe, oh then Pardon this dreame, for being awake I know, Prince Sextus, Romes great hope, would not for shame Prouoke his owne wrath, or dispoile my fame.