Gomersall, Robert · published 1633 · first performed or written 1628 [1622-1628] (Annals) tragedy T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.76 · 514 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Pretty Philosophy! go boy, go sleep, Enjoy the good thou singest— this boy can sleep, Sleep quietly, and sing himself a sleep: Making that gentle Rest unto his Song. But I'll go read: what have we here? a Map? Welcome thou lively picture of the world: Now I'll peruse my large Dominions, What a vast compass they do fill in thee? How Poe is wearied with his tedious course, But running only through our Continent? Ha! where is Poe? which is our Continent? If that my eyes deceive me not, I see My Empire is comprised within my nail: What a poor point I'm Master of? a blot Made by the swiftest tincture of the Ink? But what did this point cost me? this small blot? My innocence, my conscience, my soul; I killed a Nephew, to obtain this blot? O horrid purchase! all this toil, this guilt For so despised a Nothing? let me see, Here is no room to sit, to walk, to stand, In all my land I cannot place myself, Nor be at all, where I would be the Duke, But the sad tapers do deny their light, And stranger fire supplies an horrid day Of Lightning: help us, heaven, make us confess, There is a Power in your Mercy too. Is then a time, when all our time is spent That thou of us shouldst fear a punishment? O happy purchased privacy! to have The free possession of an humble grave, Wu't poison us from that? why startst thou so? We do not shun a kinsman, but a foe: Believe it Sforza, I am a near ghost, Nor is our kindred by thy murder lost: Raise thy cheered look, see Galeazzo here: Traitor, and coward, does thy faint breast fear The shadow, which is made? or is a soul Unclothed of Earth, more abled to control Him that unclothed it! Then I see to dye Is more to right then suffer injury. Know I am still thy prince, and if that man In such a Miracle of villain can At last be found, in this thy manhood show That thou dar'st hear thy doom of overthrow. Villain be dumb: we are too tamely mild That dead men dare affront us, assume flesh, And we will make a second ghost of thee. Thy threats are Air, like us: but to go on: In curse; now that thy wisdom hopes upon A joy in unmolested royalty, Now shalt thou have only a certainty Of high unhappiness, and be undone, Losing thy rule no better than 'twas won. Fetters shall bind thy legs, not Crowns thy head, And as a cursed beast is prohibited From common show, so thou, of beasts the worst, Must die imprisoned, and, what's most accursed, Obey to death, all comforts ta'en away, Robbed of the light, and the sweet heaven of day: Then flatter not thy miseries, to know Is not to hinder Fate, fall shalt thou low, Sink to despair, despair to nought, and dye, Then lower fall, and then as low as I. Discen. Umb.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1258–1321 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 20 of 33 in this edition
Length
514 words · 674 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.763 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
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)
Pretty Philosophy! goe boy, goe sleepe, Enjoy the good thou sing'st—this boy can sleepe, Sleepe quietly, and sing himselfe a sleepe: Making that gentle Rest unto his Song. But Ile goe read: what have we here? a Map? VVelcome thou lively picture of the world: Now Ile peruse my large Dominions, VVhat a vast compasse they doe fill in thee? How Poe is wearied with his tedious course, But running onely through our Continent? Ha! where is Poe? which is our Continent? If that my eyes deceive me not, I see My Empire is compriz'd within my nayle: VVhat a poore point Ime Master of? a blot Made by the swiftest tincture of the Inke? But what did this point cost me? this small blot? My innocence, my conscience, my soule; I kill'd a Nephew, to obtaine this blot? O horrid purchace! all this toyle, this guilt For so despis'd a Nothing? let me see, Here is no roome to sit, to walke, to stand, In all my land I cannot place my selfe, Nor be at all, where I would be the Duke, But the sad tapers doe deny their light, And stranger fire supplyes an horrid day Of Lightning: help us, heav'n, make us cōfess, There is a Power in your Mercy too. Is then a time, when all our time is spent That thou of us shouldst feare a punishment? O happy purchas'd privacy! to have The free possession of an humble grave, VVu't poyson us from that? why startst thou so? VVe doe not shunne a kinsman, but a foe: Beleeve it Sforza, I am a neer ghost, Nor is our kindred by thy murther lost: Rayse thy cheer'd looke, see Galeazzo here: Traitor, and coward, does thy faint breast feare The shadow, which is made? or is a soule Vncloath'd of Earth, more abled to controle Him that uncloath'd it! Then I see to dye Is more to right then suffer injury. Know I am still thy prince, and if that man In such a Miracle of villaine can At last be found, in this thy manhood show That thou darst heare thy doome of overthrow. Villaine be dumbe: we are too tamely mild That dead men dare affront us, assume flesh, And we will make a second ghost of thee. Thy threats are Ayre, like us: but to goe on: In curse; now that thy wisedome hopes upon A joy in unmolested royalty, Now shalt thou have onely a certainty Of high unhappinesse, and be undone, Losing thy rule no better then twas wonne. Fetters shall bind thy legs, not Crownes thy head, And as a curst beast is prohibited From common shew, so thou, of beasts the worst, Must die imprison'd, and, what's most accurst, Obey to death, all comforts tane away, Rob'd of the light, and the sweet heav'n of day: Then flatter not thy miseries, to know Is not to hinder Fate, fall shalt thou low, Sinke to despaire, despaire to nought, and dye, Then lower fall, and then as low as I. Discen. Umb.