Davenant, William · published 1629 · first performed or written 1628 [1626-1629] (Annals) tragedy · Unacted unassigned nearest T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
Nor I the King of Fairies. 'Slight, sir, d'ye Present me with a Cup, made, o'th' bottom Of an Acorn, or Queen Mabb's Thimble? Fill me a bowl, where I may swim, And bathe my head, then rise like Phoebus from The Ocean, shaking my dewy Locks. A health to Caesar's memory. Boy, do me justice, or thou affront'st my Triumph! Conrad, the King will drown us all! You've now, Sir, but the moiety of his draught. Though Fame lends you her Trumpet, gives you leave To speak your own praise, you cannot utter more Than my belief shall warrant. Now thou whisperest like the amorous Lute! I am the Broom of Heaven, when th'world grows foul, I'll sweep the Nations intoth' Sea, like dust. Thy father was magnanimous, and great King of the Girpides. Yet his title Sat not so nobly on him, as my conquest. Know, his unkind fate, was his chief glory: For it was I that slew him; and thou his captived Daughter art my Queen. Sir, if you continue this narration, I shall weep. Do, weep! then on my heartstrings I will thread Thy tears in stead of Pearl: such a wealthy Bracelet, love would present unto his Queen: And she tuck up her sleeves, to show her gaudy wrists. More wine! Bring us the Bowl of Victory. Sir, you engaged your Royal word, never To present that fatal object. Paradine, do not resist my pleasure. I'll crush thee into Air. I am in my ambition virtuous, If I desire t'expire a sacrifice To loyalty. Sir, ruin what you made, But do not violate your Vow. Hence! I shall delight in fury! Welcome, the horrid Trophy of my chief war! Rhodolinda, I'll try thy fortitude. This was thy Father's Skull: thou shalt pledge a health Unto his Ghost. O fatal! my eyes shrink within my brow! I gather Agues like the Spring, and tremble Like the unlicked Lamb, newly yeaned upon A sheet of Snow. Hide me, Paradine! the object doth so Penetrate, that when I wink, I spy it Through my Lids. Tame, feeble Soul! Will she not pledge What we do celebrate? Return her person— Madam, the King— The King's a Tyrant, and thou his slave. That's a favour, Signior. I wear it as a jewel in my ear. Fly, dear Valdaura; sweeten her censure Of this act, and mediate for the King. Thesina, prithee help me in discourse; My wonder (Wench) doth so disturb my speech, I fear I shall grow dumb. The work is pious we attempt. The harmony of your sweet tongue is his Best physic: divorce him from those black thoughts, Whilst I employ my utmost skill, to win The Queen to his embraces. She's great of Soul, And may determine what my fond heart laments To prophesy. You're my best Countryman, kind and loyal. So pale and timorous! I'll sooner couple With a Mandrake, and beget groans. My Royal Lord!
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)
Nor I the King of Faeries. 'Slight, ſir, d'ye Preſent me with a Cup, made, o'th bottome Of an Akehorne, or Queene Mabbs Thimble? Fill me a bowle, where I may ſwimme, And bathe my head, then riſe like Phoebus from The Ocean, ſhaking my dewy Locks. A health to Ceſars memory. Boy, doe me Iuſtice, or thou afrontſt my Triumph! Conrade, the King will drowne vs all! Y'haue now, Sir, but the moiety of his draught. Though Fame lends you her Trumpet, giues you leaue To ſpeake your owne praiſe, you cannot vtter more Then my beliefe ſhall warrant. Now thou whiſper'ſt like the amorous Lute! I am the Broome of Heauen, whē th'world grows foule, Ile ſweepe the Nations into'th Sea, like duſt. Thy father was magnanimous, and great King of the Girpides. Yet his title Sat not ſo nobly on him, as my conqueſt. Know, his vnkind fate, was his chiefe glory: For it was I that ſlew him; and thou his Captiu'd Daughter art my Queene. Sir, if you continue this narration, I ſhall weepe. Doe, weepe! then on my heart-ſtrings I will thread Thy teares in ſtead of Pearle: ſuch a wealthy Bracelet, loue would preſent vnto his Queene: And ſhe tuck vp her ſleeues, to ſhew her gawdy wriſts. More wine! Bring vs the Bowle of Victory. Sir, you ingag'd your Royall word, neuer To preſent that fatall obiect. Paradine, doe not reſiſt my pleaſure. Ile cruſh thee into Ayre. I am in my ambition vertuous, If I deſire t'expire a ſacrifice To loyaltie. Sir, ruine what you made, But doe not violate your Vow. Hence! I ſhall delight in fury! Welcome, the horrid Trophey of my chiefe warre! Rhodolinda, Ile try thy fortitude. This was thy Fathers Skull: thou ſhalt pledge a health Vnto his Ghoſt. O fatall! my eies ſhrinke within my brow! I gather Agues like the Spring, and tremble Like the vnlick'd Lambe, newly yeand vpon A ſheete of Snow. Hide me, Paradine! the obiect doth ſo Penetrate, that when I winke, I ſpie it Through my Lids. Tame, feeble Soule! Will ſhe not pledge What we doe celebrate? Returne her perſon— Madam, the King— The King's a Tyrant, and thou his ſlaue. That's a fauour, Signior. I weare it as a Iewell in my eare. Fly, deare Valdaura; ſweeten her cenſure Of this act, and mediate for the King. Theſina, prethee helpe me in diſcourſe; My wonder (Wench) doth ſo diſturbe my ſpeech, I feare I ſhall grow dumbe. The work is pious we attempt. The harmony of your ſweet tongue is his Beſt phyſicke: diuorce him from thoſe black thoughts, Whil'ſt I imploy my vtmoſt skill, to win The Queene to his imbraces. She's great of Soule, And may determine what my fond heart laments To prophecy. Y'are my beſt Countriman, kind and loyall. So pale and timorous! Ile ſooner couple With a Mandrake, and beget groanes. My Royall Lord!