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 0.87 · 520 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Their is justice, 'twere unfit That any thing but vengeance should fall on him, That by his giving way to more than murder, (For my dear father's death was parricide) Makes it his own. I charge you hear her not: Hell cannot stop just prayers from entering heaven, I must and will be heard, Sir; but remember That he that by her plot fell, was your brother, And the place where, your palace, against all Th'inviolable rites of hospitality, Your word, a king's word, given up for his safety, His innocence, his protection, and the gods Bound to revenge the impious breach of such So great and sacred bonds; and can you wonder, (That in not punishing such a horrid murder, You did it) that heaven's favour is gone from you? Which never will return until his blood Be washed away in hers. Drag hence the wretch. Forbear: with what variety Of torments do I meet? oh thou hast opened A book in which writ down in bloody letters, My conscience finds that I am worthy of More than I undergo, but i'll begin For my Ordella's sake, and for thine own, To make less heavens great anger: thou hast lost A father, I to thee am so; the hope Of a good husband, in me have one; nor Be fearful I am still no man, already That weakness is gone from me, That it might Have ever grown inseparably upon thee, aside What will you do? is such a thing as this Worthy the loved Ordella's place, the daughter Of a poor gardener? Your son, The power To take away that lowness is in me. Stay yet, for rather than that thou shalt add Incest unto thy other sins, I will With hazard of my own life utter all. Theodoret was thy brother. You denied it Upon your oath, nor will I now believe you, Your Protean turnings cannot change my purpose. And for me, be assured the means to be Revenge on thee vile hag, admits no thought, But what tends to it. Is it come to that? Then have at the last refuge; art thou grown Insensible in ill, that thou goest on Without the least compunction? there, take that To witness that thou hadst a mother, which Foresaw thy cause of grief, and sad repentance, That so soon after blessed Ordella's death Without a tear thou canst embrace another, Forgetful man. Mine eyes when she is named Cannot forget their tribute, and your g Is not unuseful now. He's passed all cure, that only touch is death. This night i'll keep it, Tomorrow I will send it you, and full of my affliction. Is the poison mortal? Above the help of physic. To my wish. Now for our own security, you Protaldye Shall this night post towards Austrachia, With letters to Theodoret's bastard son, In which we will make known what for his rising We have done to Thierry: no denial, Nor no excuse in such acts must be thought of, Which all dislike, and all again commend, When they are brought unto a happy end.
nodes 2072–2146 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 31 of 38 in this edition
Length
520 words · 666 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.870 (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)
Their is iustice, 'twere vnfit That any thing but vengeance should fall on him, That by his giuing way to more then murther, (For my deare fathers death was parricide) Makes it his owne. I charge you heare her not: Hell cannot stoppe iust prayers from entring heauen, I must and will be heard, Sir; but remember That he that by her plot fell, was your brother, And the place where, your pallace, against all Th'inuiolable rites of hospitality, Your word, a kings word, giuen vp for his safety, His innocence, his protection, and the gods Bound to reuenge the impious breach of such So great and sacred bonds; and can you wonder, (That in not punishing such a horrid murther, You did it) that heauens fauour is gone from you? Which neuer will returne vntill his bloud Be washde away in hers. Drag hence the wretch. Forbeare: with what variety Of torments do I meete? oh thou hast opende A booke in which writ downe in bloudy letters, My conscience finds that I am worthy of More then I vndergo, but i'le begin For my Ordellas sake, and for thine owne, To make lesse heauens great anger: thou hast lost A father, I to thee am so; the hope Of a good husband, in mee haue one; nor Be fearefull I am still no man, already That weakenesse is gone from me, That it might Haue euer growne insepurably vpon thee, aside What will you do? is such a thing as this Worthy the lou'd Ordellas place, the daughter Of a poore gardiner? Your sonne, The powre To take away that lownesse is in me. Stay yet, for rather then that thou shalt adde Incest vnto thy other sins, I will With hazard of my owne life vtter all. Theodoret was thy brother. You denide it Vpon your oth, nor will I now beleeue you, Your Protean turnings cannot change my purpose. And for me, be assurde the meanes to be Reuenge on thee vile hag, admitts no thought, But what tends to it. Is it come to that? Then haue at the last refuge; art thou growne Insensible in ill, that thou goest on Without the least compunction? there, take that To witnesse that thou hadst a mother, which Foresaw thy cause of griefe, and sad repentance, That so soone after blest Ordellas death Without a teare thou canst embrace another, Forgetfull man. Mine eyes when she is namde Cannot forget their tribute, and your g Is not vnuseful now. He's past all cure, that only touch is death. This night i'le keepe it, Tomorrow I will send it you, and full of my affliction. Is the poyson mortall? Aboue the helpe of phisicke. To my wish. Now for our owne security, you Prosaldye Shall this night post towards Austrachia, With letters to Theodorets bastard sonne, In which we will make knowne what for his rising We haue done to Thierry: no deniall, Nor no excuse in such acts must be thought of, Which all dislike, and all againe commend, When they are brought vnto a happy end.