The White Devil (Vittoria Corombona) · chunk 45 of 49
Webster, John · published 1612 · first performed or written 1612 [Winter 1612-1613] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Anne's Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.82 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
You are my Lords Executrix, and I claim Reward, for my long service. For your service Come therefore here is pen and Ink, set down What you will give me. There, Ha! have you done already, 'Tis a most short conveyance. I will read it. I give that portion to thee, and no other Which Cain groaned under having slain his brother. A most courtly Patent to beg by. You are a villain. Is't come to this? the say affrights cure agues: Thou hast a Devil in thee; I will try If I can scar him from thee: Nay sit still: My Lord hath left me yet two case of jewels Shall make me scorn your bounty; you shall see them. Sure he's distracted. O he's desperate For your own safety give him gentle language. Look, these are better far at a dead list, Than all your jewel house. And yet methinks, These stones have no fair lustre, they are ill set. I'll turn the right side towards you: you shall see how the will sparkle. Turn this horror from me: What do you want? what would you have me do? Is not all mine, yours? have I any children? Pray thee good woman do not trouble me With this vain worldly business; say your prayers, I made a vow to my deceased Lord, Neither yourself, nor I should outlive him, The numbering of four hours. Did he enjoin it. He did, and 'twas a deadly jealousy, lest any should enjoy thee after him; That urged him vow me to it: For my death I did propound it voluntarily, knowing If he could not be safe in his own Court Being a great Duke, what hope then for us? This is your melancholy and despair. Away, Fool, thou art to think that Politicians Do use to kill the effects of injuries And let the cause live: shall we groan in irons, Or be a shameful and a weighty burden To a public scaffold: This is my resolve I would not live at any man's entreaty Nor die at any's bidding. Will you hear me? My life hath done service to other men, My death shall serve mine own turn; make you ready Do you mean to die indeed. With as much pleasure As e'er my father got me. Are the doors locked? Yes Madame. Are you grown an Atheist? will you turn your body, Which is the goodly palace of the soul To the soul's slaughter house? o the cursed Devil Which doth present us with all other sins Thrice candied over; Despair with gall and stibium, Yet we carouse it off; Cry out for help, Makes us forsake that which was made for Man, The world, to sink to that was made for devils, Eternal darkness. Help, help. I'll stop your With Winter plums, I prithee yet remember, (throat Millions are now in graves, which at last day Like Mandrakes shall rise shrieking.
nodes 2799–2871 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 45 of 49 in this edition
Length
494 words · 628 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.823 (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)
You are my Lords Executrix, and I claime Reward, for my long seruice. For your seruice Come therfore heere is pen and Inke, set downe What you will giue me. There, Ha! haue you done already, 'Tis a most short conueyance. I will read it. I giue that portion to thee, and no other Which Caine gron'd vnder hauing slaine his brother. A most courtly Pattent to beg by. You are a villaine. Is't come to this? the say affrights cure agues: Thou hast a Deuill in thee; I will try If I can scarre him from thee: Nay sit still: My Lord hath left me yet two case of Iewels Shall make me scorne your bounty; you shall see thē. Sure hee's distracted. O he's desperate For your owne safety giue him gentle language. Looke, these are better far at a dead list, Then all your iewell house. And yet mee thinkes, These stones haue no faire lustre, they are ill set. I'le turne the right side towards you: you shall see how the will sparkle. Turne this horror from mee: What do you want? what would you haue mee doe? Is not all mine, yours? haue I any children? Pray theee good woman doe not trouble mee With this vaine wordly businesse; say your prayers, I made a vow to my deceased Lord, Neither your selfe, nor I should out-liue him, The numbring of foure howers. Did he enioyne it. He did, and 'twas a deadly iealousy, Least any should enioy thee after him; That vrg'd him vow me to it: For my death I did propound it voluntarily, knowing If hee could not be safe in his owne Court Being a great Duke, what hope then for vs? This is your melancholy and dispaire. Away, Foole, thou art to thinke that Polititians Do vse to kill the effects of iniuries And let the cause liue: shall we groane in irons, Or be a shamefull and a waighty burthen To a publicke scaffold: This is my resolue I would not liue at any mans entreaty Nor dye at any's bidding. Will you heare me? My life hath done seruice to other men, My death shall serue mine owne turne; make you ready Do you meane to die indeed. With as much pleasure As e're my father gat me. Are the dores lockt? Yes Madame. Are you growne an Atheist? will you turne your body, Which is the goodly pallace of the soule To the soules slaughter house? ô the cursed Deuill Which doth present vs with all other sinnes Thrice candied ore; Despaire with gaule and stibium, Yet we carouse it off; Cry out for helpe, Makes vs forsake that which was made for Man, The world, to sinke to that was made for deuils, Eternall darkenesse. Helpe, helpe. I'le stop your With Winter plums, I prethee yet remember, (throate Millions are now in graues, which at last day Like Mandrakes shall rise shreeking.