Mason, John · published 1610 · first performed or written 1607 [1607-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the King's Revels unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Forbear thy thunder gentle, gentle voice, Beat not my conscience torments 'gainst the walls, To make the Court ring with thy clamorous answers: Heavens let my tears redeem me unto life. Life. Of my terror: I desire not: speak of death. Death. Of my daughter: how easy through the air Our sins are hurried: thou canst tell of murder. Murder. I of my husband: night thy coal-black wings Though darker than the Moons eclipsed brow Are not fit Canopies for sin. Timoclea. Distraction of my soul, who breathes my name! The airy breath of him that sometime lived A tenant in the breast of Borgias, By thee driven out the frame and house of life. By me And now like one whom stern oppression throws Naked out of all he did possess: being robbed and spoiled Of the warm covert he inhabited, I sigh my helpless wrongs, and in the air Counting all hope I had, find all despair. Despair. And empty longings for an end of pain, Which I still wish and crave. But never gain. Never. Forgive me. Ask it of the heavens, To whom my blood with ceaseless clamours calls For justice and revenge. justice in heaven is like my sin 'gainst thee Cruel: and sooner may I with my knees Eat through the centre: from these pearly eyes Should there fall down more tears of penitence Then the clouds drop to purchase a new spring I could not be forgiven. Death is the winter doomed unto thy soul Disrobe it of that warm and wanton flesh, The mouth of justice bids Timoclea die. Be thou then justice executioner Revengeful spirit: in this flesh of mine Carve thy revenge in characters of blood Blast me: or from the centres hollow deep Let lose some conjured tempests: whose loud storms Driven through the air sings horror to the world, And let them hurl me 'gainst the labouring clouds Sink to the brazen-gated deep Abyss, Where furies sit curling their snakes in knots, And pull a viper from Allecto's head, And on these breasts that in thy heat of life, Have been as pillows to advance thy lust Let it suck freely: the Egyptian Queen near died more daring. And to the stern commissioners of blood, Be a glad Hermes: tell them, Timoclea Takes vengeance on herself dull Element be gone. The morning's saffron horse breathes from the East Their spicy vapours, sucked from th'Indian plains And through the gentle air hurl their perfumes. I hear the sun's steeds trot towards the milky way, And in a Coach of flames draw up the day: Aurorat usher to the stars of night, Tells the approaching of the God of light: They 'gin to twinkle and take in their fires At their eclipse we spirits leave the air, And in a dismal vale of darkness groan, Under the burden of a thousand chains: I must away, thou only dost detain me, With want of vengeance, which thy death must gain me.
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)
Forbeare thy thunder gentle, gentle voice, Beate not my conscience torments gainst the walls, To make the Court ring with thy clamorous answers: Heauens let my teares redeeme me vnto life. Life. Of my terror: I desire not: speake of death. Death. Of my daughter: how easie through the aire Our sinnes are hurried: thou canst tell of murder. Murder. I of my husband: night thy cole-blacke wings Though darker then the Moones ecclipsed browe Are not fit Canopies for sinne. Timoclea. Distraction of my soule, who breathes my name! The airy breath of him that sometime liu'd A tenant in the brest of Borgias, By thee driuen out the frame and house of life. By me And now like one whome sterne oppression throwes Nak'd out of all he did possesse: being tobd and spoild Of the warme couert he inhabited, I sigh my helpelesse wrongs and in the aire Counting all hope I had, find all dispaire. Dispaire. And empty longings for an end of paine, Which I still wish and craue. But neuer gaine. Neuer. Forgiue me. Aske it of the heauens, To whom my blood with ceasseles clamours calls For Iustice and reuenge. Iustice in heauen is like my sin gainst thee Cruell: and sooner may I with my knees Eate through the center: from these pearly eyes Should there fall downe more teares of penitence Then the clouds drop to purchase a newe spring I could not be forgiuen. Death is the winter dombd vnto thy soule Disrobe it of that warme and wanton flesh, The mouth of Iustice bids Timoclea dye. Be thou then iustice executioner Reuengefull spirit: in this flesh of mine Carue thy reuenge in carracters of blood Blast me: or from the centers hollow deepe Let loose some coniur'd tempests: whose lowd stormes Driuen through the ayre sings horror to the world, And let them hurle me gainst the labouring clowdes Sinke to the brazen-gated deepe Abisse, Where furies sit curling their snakes in knots, And pull a viper from Alectos head, And on these breasts that in thy heat of life, Haue bene as pillowes to aduance thy lust Let it sucke freely: the AEgiptian Queene Nere dyed more daring. And to the sterne commissioners of blood, Be a glad Hermes: tell them, Timoclea Takes vengeance on her selfe dull Element be gone. The mornings saffron horse breathes from the East Their spicy vapors, suckt from th'ndian plaines And through the gentle ayre hurle their perfumes. I heare the Suns steedes trot towards the milky way, And in a Coach of flames draw vp the day: Aurorat vsher to the starres of night, Tels the approching of the God of light: They gin to twinckle and take in their fires At their ecclipse we spirits leaue the aire, And in a dismall vale of darkenesse grone, Vnder the burthen of a thousand chaines: I must away, thou onely dost detayne me, With want of vengeance, which thy death must gaine me.