Gomersall, Robert · published 1633 · first performed or written 1628 [1622-1628] (Annals) tragedy T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.71 · 486 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
This is a grief of higher fault than mine, You make a war with them you should appease, And urge the heavens to our calamities. First we were punished with, and now for Sforza, Could any justice have more method in't. Well Iulian, I'm sorry for my grief, And so persuade thee to that holy truth, I now could rave against myself, not heaven, But 'tis as fruitless, as to wish good luck: Then let the French press upon victory, Let them amaze the Air with stranger fire, Raised by our City's flaming Funerals, Swell they the Poe with blood, act o'er, what ere Has been the brag of royal murderers, Yet our defence is here: Fortune may fail But our true souls shall never, we may lose An aged life, but not Eternity: And with this strength the field must needs be ours Who do not fear, do beat the Conquerors. WHat noise is this that from a foreign foe Recalls our anger? yet our purer hands Know not the die of blood: we should be loath To learn a valour on our subjects first. The people now have raved to quietness: But till that Landriano, whom you used About the last taxation, was become Their rages sacrifice, I durst have sworn The French were in the City. This sad hour (I'm sorry that you hear this truth from me) Your Duchess is departed. Wither villain? To that free Crown, where she shall fear no French, To Heaven. O envious heaven! why do you give Men such hard precepts of mortality, And take them hence before that they can learn? Must not she live, because she lived too well? Alas my wife! Alas my sister, o! Who dared that groan? good Cardinal, no more, I know not what I could deny to thee: Take to thee all for what the French so toil, But kindly leave my grief unto myself, Pardon, my Lord, ill Fortune's eloquence, Unless you hear you cannot cure your harms, The French, now entered Lombardy, sat down Before Valenza: where the mouth of Death, The thundering Canon being scarcely brought, But just presented to the yet sound wall, Discovered there was some what more unsound: For Rattagnino, the false Governor Entreats a Parley, gives away the strength, Swears the town French, and gives the key to them, With which they open Lombardy. My fact; None can be guilty of this crime, but I: That after Treason durst again trust treason. This very man, whose easy heart relents At a French death, and wisely is afraid His manners might be called in question, If he should put them off to sue again, To ask the second time, for what he held: Out of his zeal to virtue, and good luck, Did the like act for us, & gave a strength which all our Duchy never could have forced. What more revolting yet?
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1449–1515 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 23 of 33 in this edition
Length
486 words · 634 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T0 — Court life: dukes, favour and honourcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.709 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
This is a griefe of higher fault then mine, You make a warre with them you should appease, And vrge the heav'ns to our calamities. First we were punisht with, and now for Sforza, Could any justice have more method in't. Well Iulian, I'm sorry for my griefe, And so perswade thee to that holy truth, I now could rave against my selfe, not heav'n, But tis as fruitlesse, as to wish good lucke: Then let the French presse upon victory, Let them amaze the Ayre with stranger fire, Rais'd by our Cities flaming Funeralls, Swell they the Poe with blood, act o'r, what ere Has beene the brag of royall murtherers, Yet our defence is here: Fortune may faile But our true soules shall never, we may lose An aged life, but not Aeternity: And with this strength the field must needs be ours Who doe not feare, doe beate the Conquerors. WHat noyse is this that from a forraign foe Recalls our anger? yet our purer hands Know not the dy of blood: we should be loath To learne a valour on our subjects first. The people now have rav'd to quietnesse: But till that Landriano, whom you us'd About the last taxation, was become Their rages sacrifice, I durst have sworne The French were in the City. This sad houre (I'me sorry that you heare this truth from me) Your Duchesse is departed. VVhither villaine? To that free Crown, where she shall feare no French, To Heav'n. O envious heav'n! why doe you give Men such hard precepts of mortality, And take them hence before that they can learne? Must not she live, because she liv'd too well? Alas my wife! Alas my sister, ô! VVho dar'd that groane? good Cardinall, no more, I know not what I could deny to thee: Take to thee all for what the French so toyle, But kindly leave my griefe unto my selfe, Pardon, my Lord, ill Fortunes eloquence, Vnlesse you heare you cannot cure your harmes, The French, now enter'd Lombardy, sat downe Before Valenza: where the mouth of Death, The thundring Canon being scarcely brought, But just presented to the yet sound wall, Discovered there was some what more unsound: For Rattagnino, the false Governour Entreats a Parly, gives away the strength, Sweares the towne French, and gives the key to them, VVith which they open Lombardy. My fact; None can be guilty of this crime, but I: That after Treason durst againe trust treason. This very man, whose easie heart relents At a French death, and wisely is afraid His manners might be call'd in question, If he should put them off to sue againe, To aske the second time, for what he held: Out of his zeale to vertue, and good lucke, Did the like act for us, & gave a strength Wch al our Duchy never could have forc't. VVhat more revolting yet?