Gomersall, Robert · published 1633 · first performed or written 1628 [1622-1628] (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 510 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Sink into earth, and do not reach thy hell, Prophetic bubble: might thy threats prove true, For we could wish the death that thou foretellest That our fierce shadow might pursue thee still, To fright thy Ghost to nothing: O weak Heaven! Was this a terror for a man? to send A Bugbear, framed out of the empty Air. This does confirm, not fright us: this might be A terror to my picture, not to me. IT must succeed: Fortune may show her spite, Her power she cannot, in the hour I'm made A Prince's Lord, or murderer: I've placed Close at the outward door, Sanseverin, That if success do crown my hopes, his cares May give me safety, with my happiness, That I be not surprised: but if I fail I have enjoined him on the noise he hears, Strait to go call the Duke, & enter hither. Madame, 'tis done: and now the guilty head (Which whilst it stood, made all to fear their heads, Who durst affirm it did usurp a crown,) Most humbly bends, and offers it to you. Which I accept: but for no other end Then to revenge his death, base wretch on thee: If that head be not planted there, 't shall off: You shall enjoy your Master's death How's this? Is this a love trick, Lady? I had thought After your thanks parted 'twixt heaven and me, You would with greediness have given you self To him that gave you your desires: Fond thought! Dost think I'd love a man that kills a man? Make him my Prince, who hath dispatch this own? Was Treason ever Preface unto love? Hadst thou monopolized perfection, And shared a thousand Cupids in each eye: I would contemn the proudest of their shafts, And give thee only what is due, Disdain. You'll urge me to just vengeance; do you hear Madam ingratitude, quickly profess That this harsh language was but a wise bait, To make him faster, who was sure before, Or I profess I'll join your death with his With thy loathed Sfroza. I believe thee now And trust me, so believe, that I could thank thee, I love thy cruelty, though not thy person. Hath death so little horror? well I'll do What shall enforce you to desire a death. This poniards point shall nail thee to the earth Struck through thy arms: where do not hope upon A noble ravisher, my swarthy slaves, Slaves hated of their fellow-Black a mores, Shall on thy Honour's ruin tire their Lust, And kill thee in thy loathful suffering. What dare you struggle? A rape, a rape. O my good Lord, you come in such a time As I could wish for, for this hour or more This wicked woman hath been wooing me, To murder your most sacred Majesty, And for reward hath promised me herself, Together with the Duchy: my good Lord, In detestation of such treachery, I gave her some harsh answers, with which moved, She used a woman's craft, and cried a Rape.
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)
Sinke into earth, and doe not reach thy hell, Propheticke bubble: might thy threats prove true, For we could wish the death that thou foretell'st That our feirce shadow might pursue thee still, To fright thy Ghost to nothing: O weake Heav'n! VVas this a terror for a man? to send A Bug-beare, fram'd out of the empty Ayre. This does confirme, not fright us: this might be A terror to my picture, not to me. IT must succeed: Fortune may shew her spite, Her pow'r she cannot, in the houre I'me made A Princes Lord, or murtherer: I've plac'd Close at the outward doore, Sanseverin, That if successe doe crowne my hopes, his cares May give me safety, with my happinesse, That I be not surpris'd: but if I faile I have injoyn'd him on the noyse he heares, Straight to go call the Duke, & enter hither. Madame, tis done: and now the guilty head (VVhich whilst it stood, made all to feare their heads, VVho durst affirme it did usurp a crown,) Most humbly bends, and offers it to you. VVhich I accept: but for no other end Then to revenge his death, base wretch on thee: If that head be not planted there, 't shall off: You shall injoy your Masters death How's this? Is this a love tricke, Lady? I had thought After your thankes parted twixt heav'n and me, You would with greedinesse have giv'n you selfe To him that gave you your desires: Fond thought! Dost thinke Ide love a man that kils a man? Make him my Prince, who hath dispatch this owne? VVas Treason euer Preface unto love? Hadst thou monopoliz'd perfection, And shar'd a thousand Cupids in each eye: I would contemne the proudest of their shafts, And give thee onely what is due, Disdaine. Youle urge me to just vengeance; doe you heare Madam ingratitude, quickly professe That this harsh language was but a wise baite, To make him faster, who was sure before, Or I professe Ile joyne your death with his VVith thy loath'd Sfroza. I beleeve thee now And trust me, so beleeve, that I could thanke thee, I love thy cruelty, though not thy person. Hath death so little horror? well Ile doe VVhat shall inforce you to desire a death. This ponyards point shall naile thee to the earth Strucke through thy armes: where doe not hope upon A noble ravisher, my swarty slaves, Slaves hated of their fellow-Black a mores, Shall on thy Honors ruine tyre their Lust, And kill thee in thy loathfull suffering. What dare you struggle? A rape, a rape. O my good Lord, you come in such a time As I could wish for, for this houre or more This wicked woman hath beene wooing me, To murther your most sacred Majesty, And for reward hath promis'd me herselfe, Together with the Duchy: my good Lord, In detestation of such trechery, I gave her some harsh answers, with which mov'd, She us'd a womans craft, and cry'd a Rape.