Heywood, Thomas · published 1608 · first performed or written 1607 [1606-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Anne's Men · Red Bull unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I'm bent on both, my thoughts are all on fire, Choose thee, thou must embrace death, and desire, Yet do I love thee, wilt thou accept it? No. If not thy love, thou must enjoy thy foe, where fair means cannot, force shall make my way: By Ioue I must enjoy thee. Sweet Lord stay. I'm all impatience, violence and rage, And save thy bed, nought can this fire assuage: wilt No, I cannot. Tell me why? Hate me, and in that hate first let me die. By Jove I'll force thee. By a God you swear to do a devils deed: sweet Lord forbear By the same Ioue I swear that made this soul, Never to yield unto an act so foul. Help, help. These cushions first shall stop thy breath, If thou but shriekest: hark how i'll frame thy death. The death: I care not, so I keep unstained, The unceased honour I have yet maintained. Thou canst keep neither, for if thou but squeechest, Or lest the least harsh noise jar in my ear, I'll broach thee on my steel: that done, strait murder One of thy basest Grooms, and lay you both Grasped arm in arm, on thy adulterate bed. Then call in witness of that mechal sin, So shalt thou die: thy death be Thy name be odious, thy suspected body Denied all funeral rites, and loving Colatine Shall hate thee even in death: then save all this, and to thy fortunes add another friend, Give thy fears comfort, and these torments end. I'll die first, and yet hear me: oh as you're noble, If all your gracious and best generous thoughts Be not exiled your heart, pity, oh pity The Virtues of a woman: mar not that Cannot be made again: this once defiled, Not all the Ocean waves can purify, Or wash my stain away, you seek to That which the radiant splendour of the Sun Cannot make bright again: behold my tears! Oh think them pearled drops, distilled from the heart Of soul chaste Lucrece: think them Orators, To plead the cause of absent Collatine, your friend and kinsman. Tush, I am obdure. Then make my name pure: keep my body pure: Oh Prince of Princes, do but weigh your sin, Think how much I shall lose how small you win. I lose my honour of my name and blood, Lost, Rome's imperial Crown cannot make good. You win the world's shame, & all good men's hate, Oh who would pleasure, buy at such dear rate? Nor can you term it pleasure: for what's sweet, Where force & hate, jar and contention meet? Weigh but for what 'tis that you urge me still, To gain a woman's love against her will? You'll but repent such wrong done a chaste wife, and think that labour's not worth all your strife. Curse your hot lust, & say you have wronged your friends, But all the world cannot make me amends. I took you for a friend, wrong not my trust, But let these chaste terms quench your fiery lust.
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)
I'me bent on both, my thoughts are all on fire, Choose thee, thou must imbrace death, and desire, Yet doe I loue thee, wilt thou accept it? No. If not thy loue, thou must inioy thy , where faire meanes cannot, force shall make my way: By Ioue I must inioy thee. Sweet Lord stay. I'me all impatience, violence and rage, And saue thy bed, nought cā this fire No, I cannot. Tell me why? Hate me, and in that hate first let me dye. By oue ile force thee. By a God you sweare to doe a deils dde: sweete Lord forbea By the same Ioue I sweare that made this soule, Neuer to yeelde vnto an act so foule. Helpe, helpe. These cushens first shall stop thy breath, If thou but shreekest: harke how ile frame thy death. The death: I care not, so I keepe vnstain, The vnceaz'd honour I haue yet maintaind. Thou canst keepe neither, for if thou but , Or lest the least harsh noise Iarre in my eare, Ile broach thee on my steele: that done, straite murder One of thy basest Groomes, and lay you both Graspt arme in arme, on thy adulterate bed. Then call in witnes of that mechall , So shalt thou die: thy , Thy name be odious, thy suspected body Denide all funerall rites, and louing Colatin Shall hate thee euen in death: then saue all this, and to thy fortunes adde another friend, Giue thy feares comfort, and these torments end. Ile die first, and yet heare me: oh as y'are nobl, If all your gratious and best generous thoughts Be not exilde your heart, pitie, oh pittie The Vertues of a woman: marre not that Cannot be made againe: this once defilde, Not all the Ocean waues can purifie, Or wash my staine away, you seeke to That which the radiant splender of the Sunne Cannot make bright againe: behold my teares! Oh thinke them pearled drops, destilled from the heart Of soule chaste Lucrece: thinke them Orators, To pleade the cause of absent Colatine, your friend and kinsman. Tush, I am obdure. Then make my name pure: keepe my body pure: Oh Prince of Princes, doe but weigh your sinne, Thinke how much I shall loose how small you winne. I loose my honour of my name and blood, Lost, Romes imperiall Crowne cannot make good. You win the worlds shame, & all good mens hate, Oh who would pleasure, buy at such deere rate? Nor can you tarme it pleasure: for what's sweet, Where force & hate, iarre and contention meete? Weigh but for what tis that you vrge me still, To gaine a womans loue against her will? Youle but repent such wrong done a chaste wife, and think that labour's not worth all your strife. Cursse your hotlust, & say you haue wrongd your friends, But all the world cannot make me amends. I tooke you for a friend, wrong not my trust, But let these chast tearmes quench your fiery lust.