Massinger, Philip · published 1623 · first performed or written 1621 [1621-1623] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I am patient, You see I do not rage, but wait your pleasure. What do you think she dreams of now? for sure Although her Body's organs are bound fast, Her fancy cannot slumber That Sir, looks on Your sorrow for your late rash art with pity Oh what you suffer for it, and prepares To meet with free confession of your guilt With a glad pardon. she was ever kind And her displeasure though called on, short lived Upon the least submission. O you powers That can convey our thoughts to one another Without the end of eyes, or ears, assist me, Let her behold me in a pleasing dream, Thus on my knees before her (yet that duty In me is not sufficient) let her see me Compel my mother (from whom I look life) And this my sister, Partner of my being, To bow thus low unto her, let her hear us In my acknowledgement freely confess That we in a degree as high are guilty, As she is innocent; bite your tongues, vile creatures, And let your inward horror fright your souls For having belied that pureness, to come near which All women that posterity can bring forth Must be, though striving to be good, poor Rivals. And for that dog Francisco (that seduced me In wounding her to raise a temple built To Chastity and sweetness) let her know I'll follow him to hell, but I will find him, And there live a fourth fury to torment him. Then for this cursed hand and arm that guided The wicked steel, I'll have them joint by joint, With burning irons seared of, which I will eat. I being a vulture fit to taste such carrion, Lastly. You are too loud, Sir, you disturb Her sweet repose. I am hushed, yet give us leave Thus prostrate at her feet, our eyes bent downwards, Unworthy, and ashamed to look upon her, T'expect her gracious sentence. he's past hope. The body to, will putrefy, and then We can no longer cover the imposture. Which in his death will quickly be discovered I can but weep his fortune. Yet be careful, You lose no minute to preserve him, time, May lessen his distraction. I am no God sir. To give a new life to her, yet I'll hazard My head, I'll work the senseless trunk t' appear To him as it had got a second being, Or that the soul that's fled from't were called back, To govern it again, I will preserve it In the first sweetness, and by a strange vapour Which I'll infuse into her mouth, create A seeming breath, I'll make her veins run high to As if they had true motion. Do but this, Till we use means to win upon his passions T'endure to hear she's dead with some small patience And make thy own reward. The art I use Admits no looker on, I only ask The fourth part of an hour to perfect that I boldly undertake.
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)
I am patient, You see I doe not rage, but waite your pleasure. What doe you thinke she dreames of now? for sure Although her bodies organs are bound fast, Her fancy cannot slumber That Sir, lookes on Your sorrow for your late rash art with pitty Oh what you suffer for it, and prepares To meet with free confession of your guilt With a glad pardon. Shee was euer kind And her displeasure though call'd on, short liu'de Vpon the least submission. O you powers That can conucy our thoughts to one another Without the end of eies, or eares, assist me, Let her behold me in a pleasing dreame, Thus on my knees before her (yet that duty In me is not sufficient) let her see me Compell my mother (from whom I looke life) And this my sister, Partner of my being, To bow thus low vnto her, let her heare vs In my acknowledgement freely confesse That we in a degree as high are guilty, As she is innocent; bite your tongues, vile creatures, And let your inward horror fright your soules For hauing belide that purenesse, to come neere which All women that posterity can bring forth Must be, though striuing to be good, poore Riualls. And for that dog Francisco (that seduc'd me In wounding her to raise a temple built To Chastitie and sweetnesse) let her know I'll follow him to hell, but I will find him, And there liue a fourth fury to torment him. Then for this cursed hand and arme that guided The wicked steele, I'll haue them ioynt by ioynt, With burning irons seard of, which I will eate. I being a vultur fit to tast such carrion, Lastly. You are too lowd, Sir, you disturbe Her sweer repose. I am hush'd, yet giue vs leaue Thus prostrate at her feet, our eies bent downewards, Vnworthy, and asham'd to looke vpon her, T'expect her gracious sentence. Hee's past hope. The body to, will putrifie, and then We can no longer couer the imposture. Which in his death will quickly be discouer'd I can but weepe his fortune. Yet be carefull, You loose no minute to preserue him, time, May lessen his distraction. I am no God sir. To giue a new life to her, yet I'le hazard My head, I'le worke the sencelesse trunket' appeare To him as it had got a second being, Or that the soule that's fled from't were call'd backe, To gouerne it againe, I will preserue it In the first sweetnesse, and by a strange vaper Which I'le infule into her mouth, create A seeming breath, I'le make her vaines run high to As if they had true motion. Doe but this, Till we vse meanes to win vpon his passions T'indure to heare shee's dead with some small patience And make thy owne reward. The art I vse Admits no looker on, I only aske The sourth part of an hower to perfect that I boldly vndertake.