Webster, John · published 1623 · first performed or written 1614 [1612-1614; revised 1617-23(?)] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
I have heard that Charon's boat, serves to convey All o'er the dismal Lake, but brings none back again. Your brothers mean you, safety, and pity. pity? with such a pity men preserve alive Pheasants, and Quails, when they are not fat enough To be eaten. These are your children? Yes: Can they prattle? No: But I intend, since they were borne accursed; Curses shall be their first language. Fie (Madam) Forget this base, low-fellow. Were I a man: I'd beat that counterfeit face, into thy other One of no Birth. Say that he was borne mean. Man is most happy, when's own actions Be arguments, and examples of his Virtue. A barren, beggarly virtue. I prithee who is greatest, can you tell? Sad tales befit my woe: I'll tell you one. A Salmon, as she swam unto the Sea, Met with a Dogfish; who encounters her With this rough language: why art thou so bold To mix thyself with our high state of floods Being no eminent Courtier, but one That for the calmest, and fresh time o'th' year Dost live in shallow Rivers, rankest thyself With silly Smylts, and shrimps? and darest thou Pass by our Dogship, without reverence? O (Quoth the Salmon) sister, be at peace: Thank Iupiter, we both have passed the Net, Our value never can be truly known, Till in the fisher's basket we be shown, I'th' Market then my price may be the higher, Even when I am nearest to the Cook, and fire. So, to Great men, the Moral may be stretched Men oft are valued high, when theyare most wretched. But come: whether you please: I am armed 'gainst misery: Bent to all sways of the Oppressors' will. There's no deep Valley, but near some great Hill. How doth our sister Duchess bear herself In her imprisonment? Nobly: I'll describe her: She's sad, as one long used to't: and she seems Rather to welcome the end of misery Then shun it: a behaviour so noble, As gives a majesty to adversity: You may discern the shape of loveliness More perfect, in her tears, then in her smiles; She will muse four hours together: and her silence, (methinks) expresseth more, than if she spoke. Her melancholy seems to be fortified With a strange disdain. 'Tis so: and this restraint (Like English Mastiffs, that grow fierce with tying) Makes her too passionately apprehend Those pleasures she's kept from. Curse upon her: I will no longer study in the book Of another's heart: inform her what I told you. All comfort to your Grace; I will have none: Prithee, why dost thou wrap thy poisoned Pills In Gold, and Sugar? Your elder brother the Lord Ferdinand Is come to visit you: and sends you word 'Cause once he rashly made a solemn vow Never to see you more; he comes i'th' night: And prays you (gently) neither Torch, nor Taper Shine in your Chamber: he will kiss your hand: And reconcile himself: but, for his vow, He dares not see you:
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T30 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I haue heard that Charons boate, serues to conuay All ore the dismall Lake, but brings none backe againe. Your brothers meane you, safety, and pitie. Pitie? with such a pitie men preserue aliue Pheasmes, and Quailes, when they are not fat enough To be eaten. These are your children? Yes: Can they pratle? No: But I intend, since they were borne accurd; Cursses shall be their first language. Fye (Madam) Forget this base, low-fellow. Were I a man: I'll'd beat that counterfeit face, into thy other One of no Birth. Say that he was borne meane. Man is most happy, when's owne actions Be arguments, and examples of his Vertue. A barren, beggerly vertue. I pre-thee who is greatest, can you tell? Sad tales befit my woe: I'll tell you one. A Salmon, as she swam vnto the Sea, Met with a Dog-fish; who encounters her With this rough language: why art thou so bold To mixe thy selfe with our high state of floods Being no eminent Courtier, but one That for the calmest, and fresh time o'th' yeere Do'st liue in shallow Riuers, rank'st thy selfe With silly Smylts, and Shrympes? and darest thou Passe by our Dog-ship, without reuerence? O (Quoth the Salmon) sister, be at peace: Thanke Iupiter, we both haue pass'd the Net, Our value neuer can be truely knowne, Till in the Fishers basket we be showne, I'th' Market then my price may be the higher, Euen when I am neerest to the Cooke, and fire. So, to Great men, the Morrall may be stretched. ,,Men oft are valued high, when th'are most wretch'd. But come: whether you please: I am arm'd 'gainst misery: Bent to all swaies of the Oppressors will. There's no deepe Valley, but neere some great Hill. How doth our sister Dutchesse beare her selfe In her imprisonment? Nobly: I'll describe her: She's sad, as one long vs'd to't: and she seemes Rather to welcome the end of misery Then shun it: a behauiour so noble, As giues a maiestie to aduersitie: You may discerne the shape of louelinesse More perfect, in her teares, then in her smiles; She will muse foure houres together: and her silence, (Me thinkes) expresseth more, then if she spake. Her mellancholly seemes to be fortifide With a strange disdaine. 'Tis so: and this restraint (Like English Mastiffes, that grow feirce with tying) Makes her too passionately apprehend Those pleasures she's kept from. Curse vpon her: I will no longer study in the booke Of anothers heart: informe her what I told you. All comfort to your Grace; I will haue none: 'Pray-thee, why do'st thou wrap thy poysond Pilles In Gold, and Sugar? Your elder brother the Lord Ferdinand Is come to visite you: and sends you word 'Cause once he rashly made a solemne vowe Neuer to see you more; he comes i'th' night: And prayes you (gently) neither Torch, nor Taper Shine in your Chamber: he will kisse your hand: And reconcile himselfe: but, for his vowe, He dares not see you: