Mason, John · published 1610 · first performed or written 1607 [1607-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the King's Revels T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.75 · 539 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
BLush not thou chaste and modest Queen of night, Nor hide thy silver crescent in a cloud, To see me thus Rhamnusia like attired: Stare on ye Argus eyed heavens and see a woman More full of vengeance, than your jealous Queen. Medusa sometime the love of Neptune, (But after for thy lust transformed a monster) Lend me those serpents that about thy head Curl up like Elf-knots, at whose horrid sight The Sun may vanish or stand still affright. Or you you Furies ministers of fear, (That at Astreas feet lie bound in snakes Attending her just sentence to begin Terror of conscience in the breast of sin) This night be powerful in me and inspire My face with fear, my heart with rank-swollen ire Venice, Venice, great Venice: Who speaks to Venice? Iulia thy love. Delusive voice, why dost renew my grief By naming Iulia? Didst thou love Iulia? Thou wrong'st me to make question of my love. whatsoe'er thou art. Then see thy Iulia and revenge her wrongs. Dissolve ye glassy pearls and melt in drops, Or with the tear-spent mother Niobe Turn into stones: shall I believe my thoughts, And credit what thy shape presents to me? Thou art the Ghost of murdered Iulia. I am. Immortal essence Virgin-element So may I term thy airy substance freed From the gross mixture of our earthly load: Oh I am thronged with passions & each craving vent None can have passage till some tears be spent, Fall fall ye silver pearls, and of the earth Purchase a soft relenting at my griefs. Shower down like rainy drops, and pierce the stones Make them receive my sorrows, or from mine eyes Run like to crystal rivers through the world, Slide o'er the flowery meadows that the nymphs Dancing in fairy rings upon the grass, May leave their sport, and weep to see you pass, Where by the doleful murmur as you go, The hills may hear you mourn and sound my woe, Pardon: if I be tedious virgin spirit, Or if my grief be too effeminate: Thy habit is an Index to revenge, Which thy wrongs seem to plead for of my love, Speak them, or deal them through the yielding air Into my ears, and they shall be to me Like the stern drum, or music of the war Unto the coward, or the fainting soldier. Venice I was murdered. Murder is open mouthed, and as the Sea Whose covetous waves imprisoned by thy land, Bellow for grief and roar upon the sand. So from the earth it cries, and like a child Wronged by his careless nurse will not be stilled: Are ye then deaf yea gods, ye cannot hear it? Or is just Libra fallen out of your Spheres, That wronged States must to the earth appeal For justice and revenge. Then 'tis not profane T'usurp your functions: my hand shall be as just As my soul loving: and they both shall leave A story to the world of my revenge. Nor in succeeding times shall be forgot. Venice revenged those wrongs the heavens would not. I interrupt what that wouldst say, and seem To crown all vengeance in a passion. Speak but his name.
nodes 1008–1079 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 19 of 35 in this edition
Length
539 words · 698 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.748 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
BLush not thou chast and modest Queene of night, Nor hide thy siluer crescent in a clowde, To see me thus Rhamnusia like attir'd: Stare on ye Argus eyed heauens and se a woman More full of vengeance, then your iealous Queene. Medusa sometime the loue of Neptune, (But after for thy lust transformd a monster) Lend me those serpents that about thy head Curle vp like Else-knots, at whose horrid sight The Sun may vanish or stand still affight. Or you you Furies ministers of feare, (That at Astreas feet lye bound in snakes Attending her iust sentence to begin Terror of conscience in the brest of sin) This night be powerfull in me and inspire My face with feare, my heart with rancke-swolne ire Venice, Venice, great Venice: Who speakes to Venice? Iulia thy loue. Delusiue voyce, why dost renew my griefe By naming Iulia? Didst thou loue Iulia? Thou wrongst me to make question of my loue. Whatsoere thou art. Then see thy Iulia and reuenge her wrongs. Dissolue ye glassy pearles and melt in drops, Or with the teare-spent mother Niobe Turne into stones: shall I beleue my thoughts, And credit what thy shape presents to me? Thou art the Ghost of murdred Iulia. I am. Immortall essence Virgin-element So may I tearme thy ayry substance freed From the grosse mixture of our earthly load: Oh I am throngd with passions & each crauing vent None can haue passage till some teares be spent, Fall fall ye siluer pearles, and of the earh Purchase a soft relenting at my griefes. Shoure downe like rainie drops, and pearce the stones Make them receiue my sorrowes, or from mine eyes Run like to christall riuers through the world, Slyde ore the flowry medowes that the Nimphs Dancing in feary rings vpon the grasse, May leaue their sport, and weepe to see you passe, Where by the dolefull murmur as you goe, The hils may here you mourne and sound my woe, Pardon: if I be tedious virgin spirit, Or if my griefe be too effeminate: Thy habit is an Index to reuenge, Which thy wrongs seeme to pleade for of my loue, Speake them, or deale them through the yeelding aire Into my eares, and they shall be to me Like the sterne drumme, or musique of the warre Vnto the coward, or the fainting souldiour. Venice I was murdered. Murder is open mouthd, and as the Sea Whose couetous waues in prisond by thy land, Bellow for griefe and roare vpon the sand. So from the earth it cries, and like a childe Wrongd by his carelesse nurse will not be stilld: Are ye then deafe yea gods, ye cannot heare it? Or is iust Libra falne out of your Spheares, That wronged States must to the earth appeale For iustice and reuenge. Then tis not prophane T'usurpe your functions: my hand shall be as iust As my soule louing: and they both shall leaue A story to the world of my reuenge. Nor in succeeding times shall be forgot. Venice reuengd those wrongs the heauens would not. I interrupt what that wouldst say, and seeme To crowne all vengeance in a passion. Speake but his name.