Dekker, Thomas / Massinger, Philip · published 1622 · first performed or written 1620 [licensed for stage, Oct 6; revised and re-licensed for stage, Jul 7, 1624] (Annals) tragedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.73 · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Thus. Cal. And thus. Profane And impious, stand you now like a Statue? Are you the Champion of the Gods? where is Your holy zeal, your anger? I am blasted, And as my feet were rooted here, I find I have no motion, I would I had no sight too, Or if my eyes can serve to any use, Give me thou injured power a sea of tears, To expiate this madness in my Daughters: For being themselves, they would have trembled at So blasphemous a deed in any other, For my sake hold a while thy dreadful thunder, And give me patience to demand a reason For this accursed act. 'twas bravely done. Peace damned Enchantress peace, I should look on you With eyes made red with fury, and my hand That shakes with rage should much outstrip my tongue, And seal my vengeance on your hearts, but nature To you that have fall'n once, bids me again To be a father, O how durst you tempt The anger of great Ioue? A lack poor Ioue, He is no Swaggerer, how smug he stands, he'll take a kick, or any thing. Stop her mouth. It is the ancientest godling do not fear him, He would not hurt the thief that stole away Two of his golden locks, indeed he could not, And still 'tis the same quiet thing. Blasphemer. Ingenious cruelty shall punish this, Thou art past hope, but for you yet dear daughters, Again be witched, the dew of mild forgiveness May gently fall, provided you deserve it With true contrition, be yourselves again, Sue to the offended deity. Not to be The Mistress of the earth. I will not offer A grain of Incense to it, much less kneel, Not look on it but with contempt and scorn, To have a thousand years conferred upon me Of worldly blessings, we profess ourselves To be like Dorothea, Christians, And owe he for that happiness. My ears Receive in hearing this, all deadly charms Powerful to make man wretched. Are these they You bragged could convert others? That want strength To stand themselves? Your Honour is engaged, The credit of our cause depends upon it, Something you must do suddenly, And I will. They merit death, but falling by your hand, It will be recorded for a just revenge And holy fury in you. Do not blow, The Furnace of a wrath thrice hot already, AEtna is in my breast, wild fire burns here, Which only blood must quench: incensed power, Which from my infancy I have adored, Look down with favourable beams upon The Sacrifice (though not allowed thy Priest) Which I will offer to thee, and be pleased (My fiery zeal inciding me to act it) To call that justice, others may style murder. Come you accursed, thus by the hair I drag you Before this holy altar; thus look on you Less pitiful than Tigers to their prey. And thus with mine own hand I take that life Which I gave to you.
1620 [licensed for stage, Oct 6; revised and re-licensed for stage, Jul 7, 1624]
First performance (BritDrama)
1620 [Oct]
Company (BritDrama)
Red Bull (Revels) Company (first)
Genre (British Drama)
tragedy
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 843 · TCP A07249 · DEEP 698
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 1410–1486 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 23 of 43 in this edition
Length
507 words · 642 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.725 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
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)
Thus. Cal. And thus. Profane And impious, stand you now like a Statue? Are you the Champion of the Gods? where is Your holy zeale, your anger? I am blasted, And as my feete were rooted heere, I finde I haue no motion, I would I had no sight too, Or if my eyes can serue to any vse, Giue me thou iniut'd power a sea of teares, To expiate this madnesse in my Daughters: For being themselues, they would haue trembled at So blasphemous a deede in any other, For my sake hold a while thy dreadfull thunder, And giue me patience to demand a reason For this accursed act. T was brauely done. Peace damn'd Enchantres peace, I should looke on you With eyes made red with fury, and my hand That shakes with rage should much outstrip my tongue, And seale my vengeance on your hearts, but nature To you that haue falne once, bids meagaine To be a father, O how durst you tempt The anger of great Ioue? A lacke poore Ioue, He is no Swaggerer, how smug he stands, Heele take a kick, or any thing. Stop her mouth. It is the ancientst godling do not feare him, He would not hurt the thiese that stole away Two of his golden locks, indeede he could not, And still tis the same quiet thing. Blasphemer. Ingenious cruelty shall punish this, Thou art past hope, but for you yet deare daughters, Againe be witcht, the dew of mild forgiuenesse May gently fall, prouided you deserue it With true contrition, be your selues againe, Sue to the offended diety. Not to be The Mistresse of the earth. I will not offer A graine of Incense to it, much lesse kneele, Not looke on it but with contempt and scorne, To haue a thousand yeeres confer'd vpon me Of worldly blessings, we professe our selues To be like Dorothea, Christians, And owe hee for that happinesse. My eares Receiue in hearing this, all deadly charmes Powerfull to make man wretched. Are these they You brag'd could conuert others? That want strength To stand themselues? Your Honour is ingag'd, The credit of our cause depends vpon it, Something you must doe suddenly, And I will. They merit death, but falling by your hand, It will be recorded for a iust reuenge And holy fury in you. Doe not blow, The Furnace of a wrath thrice hot already, AEtna is in my brest, wild fire burnes heere, Which onely bloud must quench: incensed power, Which from my infancy I haue ador'd, Looke downe with fauourable beames vpon The Sacrifice (though not allow'd thy Priest) Which I will offer to thee, and be pleasde (My fierie zeale incidng me to act it) To call that iustice, others may stile murther. Come you accursd, thus by the haire I drag you Before this holy altar; thus looke on you Lesse pittifull then Tigres to their prey. And thus with mine owne hand I take that life Which I gaue to you.