Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1615 · first performed or written 1608 [c.1607-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
O let me never speak, Or with my words let me speak out my life; Thou power abused great Love, whose vengeance now we feel and fear, have mercy on this Land. How does your Grace? Sick, very sick I hope. God's comfort you. Will not you speak? Is this your royal word? Do not pull perjury upon your soul. Sir, you are old, and near your punishment; remember. Away base woman. Then be no more my Father, but a plague, I am bound to pray against: be any sin May force me to despair, and hang myself, be thy name never more remembered King But in example of a broken Faith, And cursed even to forgetfulness: May thy Land bring forth such Monsters as thy daughter is? I am weary of my rage. I pray forgive me, And let me have him, will you Noble Sir? Mercy, mercy heaven: Thou heir of all dishonour, shamest thou not to draw This little moisture left for life, thus rudely from me? Carry that Slave to death. For heavens sake Sir, it is no fault of mine, That she will love me. To death with him, I say. Then make haste Tyrant, or I'll be for him; This is the way to Hell. Hold fast, I charge you away with him. Alas old man, Death hath more doors than one, And will meet him. Dorialus, Pray see her in her Chamber, And lay a guard about her: The greatest curse the Gods lay on our frailties, Is will and disobedience in our Issues, Which we beget as well as them to plague us, With our fond loves; Beasts you are only blessed That have that happy dullness to forget What you have made, your young ones grieve not you They wander where they list, and have their ways Without dishonour to you; and their ends, Fall on 'em without sorrow of their parents, Or after ill remembrance: Oh this Woman Would I had made myself a Sepulchre, When I made her: Nephew where is the prince? Pray God he have not more part of her baseness Then of her blood about him, Gent: where is he? I know not Sir. Has his ways by himself, is too wise for my company. I do not like this hiding of himself, From such society as his person: Some of it ye needs must know. I am sure not I: nor have known twice this ten days, which if I were as proud as some of 'em I should take scurvily, but he is a young man: Let him have his swinge, 'twill make him. There's some good matter now in hand: How the slave jeers and grins: the Duke is pleased. There's a new pair of Scarlet Hose now, and as much Money to spare, as will fetch the old from pawn, a Hat and a Cloak to go out tomorrow: Garters and stockings come by nature. be sure of this.
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)
O let me neuer speake, Or with my words let me speake out my life; Thou power abusde great Loue, whose vengence now we feele and feare, haue mercie on this Land. How does your Grace? Sicke, very sicke I hope. Gods comfort you. Will not you speake? Is this your royall word? Doe not pull periurie vpon your soule. Syr, you are olde, and neere your punishment; remember. Away base woman. Then be no more my Father, but a plague, I am bound to pray against: bee any sinne May force mee to dispaire, and hang my selfe, Bee thy name neuer more remembred King But in example of a broken Faith, And curst euen to forgetfulnes: May thy Land bring forth such Monsters as thy daughter is? I am weary of my rage. I pray forgiue mee, And let mee haue him, will you Noble Syr? Mercie, mercie heauen: Thou heire of all dishonour, shamest thou not to draw This little moysture left for life, thus rudely from mee? Carry that Slaue to death. For Heauens sake Syr, it is no fault of mine, That shee will loue mee. To death with him, I say. Then make hast Tyrant, or Ile be for him; This is the way to Hell. Hold fast, I charge you away with him. Alas old man, Death hath more dores thē one, And will meete him. Dorialus, Pray see her in her Chamber, And lay a guard about her: The greatest curse the Gods lay on our frailties, Is will and disobedience in our Issues, Which wee beget as well as them to plague vs, With our fond loues; Beasts you are onely blest That haue that happy dulnesse to forget What you haue made, your young ones grieue not you They wander where they list, and haue theyr wayes Without dishonor to you; and their ends, Fall on em without sorrow of their parents, Or after ill remembrance: Oh this Woman Would I had made my selfe a Sepulcher, When I made her: Nephew where is the prince? Pray God hee haue not more part of her basenesse Then of her bloud about him, Gent: where is hee? I know not Syr. Has his wayes by him selfe, is too wise for my companie. I doe not like this hiding of him selfe, From such societie as his person: Some of it yee needs must know. I am sure not I: nor haue knowne twice this ten dayes, which if I were as proude as some of em I should take scuruily, but hee is a young man: Let him haue his swinge, twill make him. Theres some good matter now in hand: How the slaue geers and grinnes: the Duke is pleasde. Theres a newe paire of Scarlet Hose now, and as much Money to spare, as will fetch the old from pawne, a Hat and a Cloake to goe out to morrow: Garters and stockings come by nature. Bee sure of this.