Anonymous / Fletcher, John / Massinger, Philip · published 1621 · first performed or written 1617 [1613-1621] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.83 · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Do not stir, For I must be resolved and will, be statues. ay, thou art welcome, and upon my soul Thou art an honest man; do you see, he has tears To lend to him whom prodigal expense Of sorrow has made banker out of such treasure, Nay thou dost well. I would it might excuse The ill I bring along. Thou makest me smile In the height of my calamities, as if There could be the addition of an Atom To the giant body of my miseries. But try, for I will hear thee; all sit down, 'tis death To any that shall dare to interrupt him In look, gesture, or word. And such attention As is due to the last, and the best story That ever was delivered, will become you. The grieved Ordella, (for all other titles But take away from that) having from me Prompted by your last parting groan, enquired What drew it from you, and the cause soon learned: For she whom barbarism could deny nothing, With such prevailing earnestness desired it, 'Twas not in me though it had been my death, To hide it from her; she I say, in whom All was, that Athens, Rome, or warlike Sparta, Have registered for good in their best women: But nothing of their ill, knowing herself marked out (I know not by what power, but sure A cruel one) to die, to give you children; Having first with a settled countenance Looked up to heaven, and then upon herself (It being the next best object) and then smiled, As if her joy in death to do you service, Would break forth in despite of the much sorrow She showed she had to leave you: and then taking Me by the hand, this hand which I must ever Love better than I have done, since she touched it, Go, said she, to my Lord, (and to go to him Is such a happiness I must not hope for,) And tell him that he too much prized a trifle Made only worthy in his love, and her Thankful acceptance, for her sake to rob The Orphan kingdom of such guardians, as Must of necessity descend from him; And therefore in some part of recompense Of his much love, and to show to the world That't was not her fault only, but her fate, That did deny to let her be the mother Of such most certain blessings: yet for proof, She did not envy her, that happy her, That is appointed to them, her quick end Should make way for her; which no sooner spoke, But in a moment this too ready engine Made such a battery in the choicest castle That ever nature made to defend life, That strait it shook, and sunk. Stay, dares any Presume to shed a tear before me? or Ascribe that worth unto themselves to merit To do so for her? I have done, now on.
nodes 1938–2000 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 29 of 38 in this edition
Length
495 words · 608 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.834 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Doe not stir, For I must be resolude and will, be statues. I, thou art welcome, and vpon my soule Thou art an honest man; do you see, he has teares To lend to him whom prodigall expence Of sorrow has made banker out of such treasure, Nay thou doest well. I would it might excuse The ill I bring along. Thou makest me smile In the height of my calamities, as if There could be the addition of an Atome To the gyant body of my miseries. But try, for I will heare thee; all sit down, 'tis death To any that shall dare to interrupt him Inlooke, gesture, or word. And such attention As is due to the last, and the best story That euer was deliuerde, will become you. The grieude Ordella, (for all other titles But take away from that) hauing from me Prompted by your last parting grone, enquirde What drew it from you, and the cause soone learn'd: For she whom barbarisme could deny nothing, With such preuailing earnestnesse desirde it, 'Twas not in me though it had bin my death, To hide it from her; she I say, in whom All was, that Athens, Rome, or warlike Sparta, Haue registred for good in their best women: But nothing of their ill, knowing herselfe Markde out (I know not by what powre, but sure A cruell one) to die, to giue you children; Hauing first with a setled countenance Look'd vp to heauen, and then vpon her selfe (It being the next best obiect) and then smilde, As if her ioy in death to do you seruice, Would breake forth in despite of the much sorrow She showde she had to leaue you: and then taking Me by the hand, this hand which I must euer Loue better then I haue done, since she touch'd it, Go, sayd she, to my Lord, (and to go to him Is such a happinesse I must not hope for,) And tell him that he too much prizde a trifle Made only worthy in his loue, and her Thankfull acceptance, for her sake to robbe The Orphan kingdome of such gardians, as Must of necessity descend from him; And therefore in some part of recompence Of his much loue, and to shew to the world That't was not her fault only, but her fate, That did deny to let her be the mother Of such most certaine blessings: yet for proofe, She did not enuy her, that happy her, That is appointed to them, her quicke end Should make way for her; which no sooner spoke, But in a moment this too ready engin Made such a battery in the choicest castle That euer nature made to defend life, That straite it shooke, and sunke. Stay, dares any Presume to shed a teare before me? or Ascribe that worth vnto themselues to merit To do so for her? I haue done, now on.