Mason, John · published 1610 · first performed or written 1607 [1607-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the King's Revels unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 455 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Horror of souls I am surprised. Illusive air, false shape of Borgias, Could thy vain shadow work a fear in him That like an Atlas underwent the earth When with a firm and constant eye he saw Hells fifty headed Porter: thus I'd prove Thy apparition idle:— runs at Borgias. Treason: I live: Devils and Furies I am slain. Wonder of admiration: what distraction is this? Ha ha, ha: climb high my mounting spirit And when thou hast aspired to thy full height Like a colossus on a base of clouds Stand and applaud thy fortunes: Borgias Grinest hellish Antic? Should the Cecropian thief stretch my torn flesh Racked on his bed of steel: if on Caucasus My growing liver were exposed a prey To ravening vultures: I would still laugh To see thee like a falling Pine-tree reel In a rough tempest. Hold up ye broken organs of my soul Carry me high and make me stand as firm As Oaks on Ossa: that advance their tops Even till their roots break. Timoclea For love of me killed her own child Thy daughter Amada. Amazement! Blessed fates I thank you: I shall die revenged Fly, Ioue loved Nemesis and at justice feet Shake thy triumphal Ash: I slew Timoclea By thee before thought dead I took her from the hearse of Iulia, When in the habit of a murdered ghost, This night she appeared to the Duke, to breed Suspect in them of thee, and arm their hate Unto my plotted faction. Damned illusion. Where is Ferrara? heavens be his guard. So they are. He killed my slave And in his habit by this hand he died. False perjured villain. Sink, sink Cithaeron, high Pallene tremble Green Tempe wither, and with me forego Your place and being, this whole world of flesh With fatal earthquakes totters. False Turk thy fate be but as cruel as is Borgias hate. Stoop down thou Lydian mount, bend thy cold head And hide it in thy brackish father's waves That as thou shrinkest, thy starry load may nod At Mulleasses fall: or ever shroud Those joyful bonfires in a mourning cloud. Just end of treason. Madame our duties joy your life And wish your happiness. As the just reward of danger. My Lord I claim her love. Not without justice brave venetian She is herself and free. And thus I give myself. heavens seal it for the the good of both our states. Philenzo: We can but grieve at great Ferrara's loss: Ambassadors from us shall plead our sorrows Even to your senates: mean time his obsequies Shall want no honour: signor Bordello We give you liberty: what remains undone Shall by the Senate be confirmed: lead on.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Horror of oules I am surprizd. Illusiue ayre, false shape of Borgias, Could thy vaine shaddow worke a feare in him That like an Atlas vnderwent the earth When with a firme and constant eye he sawe Hells fifty headed Porter: thus I'de proue Thy apparition idle:—runnes at Borgias. Treason: I liue: Deuils and Furies I am slaine. Wonder of admiration: what distraction is this? Ha ha, ha: climbe high my mounting spirit And when thou hast aspird to thy full hight Like a Collossus on a base of cloudes Stand and applaud thy fortunes: Borgias Grin'st hellish Anticke? Should the Cecropian theefe stretch my torne flesh Rackt on his bed of steele: if on Caucasus My growing liuer were exposd a prey To rauening Vulturs: I would still laugh To see thee like a falling Pine-tree reele In a rough tempest. Hold vp ye broken organs of my soule Carry me high and make me stand as firme As Oakes on Ossa: that aduance their tops Euen till their rootes breake. Timoclea For loue of me kild her owne childe Thy daughter Amada. Amazement! Blest fates I thanke you: I shal dye reueng'd Fly, Ioue lou'd Nemesis and at Iustice feet Shake thy triumphall Ash: I slue Timoclea By thee before thought dead I tooke her from the hearse of Iulia, When in the habit of a murdred ghost, This night she appeared to the Duke, to breed Suspect in them of thee, and arme their hate Vnto my plotted faction. Damnd illusion. Where is Ferrara? Heauens be his guard. So they are. He kild my slue And in his habit by this hand he dyed. False periurd villaine. Sinke, sinke Cytheron, high Pllne tremble Greene Tempe wither, and with me forgoe Your place and being, this whole world of flesh With atall earth-quakes totters. False Turke thy fate be but as cruell as is Borgias hate. Stoope down thou Lydian mount, bend thy cold head And hide it in thy brackish fathers waues That as thou shrinkst, thy starry loade may nod At Mulleasses fall: or euer shroude Those ioyfull bonfires in a mourning cloude. Iust end of treason. Madame our duties ioy your life And wish your happinesse. As the iust reward of daunger. My Lord I claime her loue. Not without Iustice braue Venecian She is herselfe and free. And thus I giue my selfe. Heauens seale it for the the good of both our states. Philenzo: We can but grieue at great Ferraras losse: Embassadours from vs shall plead our sorrowes Euen to your Senats: meane time his obsequies Shall want no honor: Signior Bordello We giue you liberty: what remaines vndone Shall by the Senate be confirm'd: leade on.