Davenant, William · published 1629 · first performed or written 1628 [1626-1629] (Annals) tragedy · Unacted T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an typicality 0.87 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
Hah! Am I alone? Have they all left me? Where is my Empire? Do I govern in The vacant Air? Sir, am I lost unto your memory? You were wont to trust my service: the way Unto your Couch lies here— None shall be proud but I. My smiles revive The dead: but when I frown, the living straight Melt into Ghosts. Lights for the King there! Cunymond, you are too officious! The king's Departure must be private. The King is light enough himself: he needs No Torches. And heavy enough! for he seems to reel With his own weight. No Masks! No Epithalamion now! Call for a Bonesetter, for Time hath sprained His feet, and goes awry. O Hermegild! a general eclipse In Nature, would not seem so horrid! To cut those cordial strings which Hymen had But newly tied. ay, there's the horror! whilst his Vows sat warm Upon his Lips; his breath not mingled yet With cooler Air; thus to perturb by stern Practice your sweet rest, was worse than perjury. To present my Royal Father's Skull, In drunken Triumph. Take heed! you will distract your memory. There's a Record, Time strives to lose; and Fame To hide beneath some oblique fold in her Thick Volume, as loath to discredit all Mankind. Your father valued you next to His interest in heaven. I've seen the good Old King search for his picture in your eyes; than— No more: Patience is sinful now. Thou art Deeply read and wise: instruct me to be bold, For Albovine hath taught me to be cruel. You're now by holy Church incorporate; Therefore Divinity forbids me use My natural motions. How ere I think It fit, you give him direful cause, soon to Repent: Repentance sure is physic for his soul. Paradine and 's young Bride! Your excellence Shall please that we retire: whilst I disguise My kind gesture, and seem to flatter in The king's behalf— To bed soft modesty! I will myself Deliver to the Queen the King's intent. Sir, the King is cruel. Should you prove so To me, I'd soon distil my soul to tears, And weep an Ocean deep enough to drown My sorrows, and myself. 'Twere stern guilt to doubt my nature. Fair Saint, To bed, I long to lose my Youth in warm Embraces, and ere the pearly Morn appear, Make thee a teeming Mother. To bed! with winged haste Expect my presence. How smooth appears the Brow of Youth! Haile Rhodolinda! the Royal Mistress Of this night. Thus Albovine (our great King) bade Me say, You're dearer to his eyes then light. Though every Bride may claim from Hymen Privilege to rule her Lord, till Hesperus Appear, and cancel her brief Charter. Yet he doth humbly beg, you'll not infringe The Lombard's custom, whose Virgins never vow A continence the Nuptial night. I yet want your meaning. 'tis his chief hope that you will straight expect His person in your bed.
seed 43: T57 · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Hah! Am I alone? Haue they all left me? Where is my Empire? Doe I gouerne in The vacant Ayre? Sir, am I loſt vnto your memory? You were wont to truſt my ſeruice: the way Vnto your Couch lyes here— None ſhall be proud but I. My ſmiles reuiue The dead: but when I frowne, the liuing ſtraight Melt into Ghoſts. Lights for the King there! Cunymond, you are too officious! The Kings Departure muſt be priuat. The King is light enough himſelfe: he needs No Torches. And heauy enough! for he ſeemes to reele With his owne weight. No Maskes! No Epithelamion now! Call for a Boneſetter, for Time hath ſprain'd His feete, and goes awry. O Hermegild! a generall eclips In Nature, would not ſeeme ſo horrid! To cut thoſe cordiall ſtrings which Hymen had But newly ty'd. I, there's the horror! whil'ſt his Vowes ſat warm Vpon his Lips; his breath not mingled yet With cooler Ayre; thus to perturbe by ſterne Practice your ſweet reſt, was worſe then periury. To preſent my Royall Fathers Skull, In drunken Triumph. Take heede! you will diſtract your memory. There's a Record, Time ſtriues to loſe; and Fame To hide beneath ſome oblique fold in her Thicke Volume, as loth to diſcredit all Mankind. Your father valewed you next to His intereſt in heauen. I'ue ſeene the good Old King ſearch for his picture in your eyes; then— No more: Patience is ſinfull now. Thou art Deepely read and wiſe: inſtruct me to be bold, For Albouine hath taught me to be cruell. Y'are now by holy Church incorporate; Therefore Diuinitie forbids me vſe My naturall motions. How e're I thinke It fit, you giue him direfull cauſe, ſoone to Repent: Repentance ſure is phyſick for his ſoule. Paradine and 's young Bride! Your excellence Shall pleaſe that we retire: whil'ſt I diſguize My kind geſture, and ſeeme to flatter in The Kings behalfe— To bed ſoft modeſty! I will my ſelfe Deliuer to the Queene the King's intent. Sir, the King is cruell. Should you proue ſo To me, I'ld ſoone diſtill my ſoule to teares, And weepe an Ocean deepe enough to drowne My ſorrowes, and my ſelfe. 'Twere ſterne guilt to doubt my nature. Faire Saint, To bed, I long to loſe my Youth in warme Embraces, and ere the pearly Morne appeare, Make thee a teeming Mother. To bed! with winged haſt Expect my preſence. How ſmooth appeares the Brow of Youth! Haile Rhodolinda! the Royall Miſtreſſe Of this night. Thus Albouine (our great King) bade Me ſay, Y'are dearer to his eyes then light. Though euery Bride may claime from Hymen Priuiledge to rule her Lord, till Heſperus Appeare, and cancell her briefe Charter. Yet he doth humbly beg, you'le not infringe The Lombards cuſtome, whoſe Virgins neuer vow A continence the Nuptiall night. I yet want your meaning. Tis his chiefe hope that you will ſtraight expect His perſon in your bed.