Davenant, William · published 1629 · first performed or written 1628 [1626-1629] (Annals) tragedy · Unacted T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.83 · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Hah! Paradine! What witty emblem's this? The more to certify thy love, dost thou Appear blind. O Sir, do not mock my penitence, nor seem Thus to disguise the knowledge of that crime, Which hath defiled my modest blood, and makes Me now ashamed t' encounter with your eyes. He is drunk! Maudlin drunk! Sir, I could creep alive into my Tomb, And mix society with Ghosts, whilst I Have yet warm motion left, could I but hide My guilt from your perspicuous sight. By heaven drunk with Cider, or with thin Beer; That looks like th' urine of a Babe: I'm sure The Corsic Grape infuseth no Such whining passion. Those immaterial powers, that see the thoughts of men, When growing in their hearts, can witness I Abused your Royal bed, but by a dire Mistake. Hah! Your black adulterous Queen betrayed Me to her lust by wicked Arts. This is a sober passion, but implies Something that is horrid. Had not heroic war taught me t' affect No rage, but noble; she and Hermegild Had enticed me now to lengthen this your sleep, Until the day of general accounts. Suspect must now be rash. Make your face known! He blushes like a Bride; whom through her thin Curtains, the peeping Sun beholds in soft Skirmish with her Lord. I must counterfeit, And seem to know all. Paradine, 'twas far From my conjecture, that a heart so much Obliged unto my love as thine, should wrong My Honour in a sense, which but to mould In words would teach my tongue to stammer, and Deafen all that hear it. Thunder and sulphurous fire snatch my cold limbs From this dull earth. Sir, whilst my soul affords Me reason, and can direct me unto whom My true allegiance is a debt, kill me! When I am mad, I shall forget all duty, And refuse t' obey your Royal Charter. Thrust your good Sword home, till my heart shall kiss Your Hilts. Are you so slow in justice? Think, How by a dark mistake, I whored your Queen: Whored your Queen! O prodigious phrase! Houle, meager Wolves! empty Tigers! let the hoarse Thracian Bull bellow, till he rent his throat; And the hot mountain-lion roar, until Their clamour wake the dead. The resurrection Is too long delayed, since we want horror To celebrate this news. Good! I have now Decreed it. Draw thy bright weapon!— For what dire use? That we may meet in single battle here, And struggle till we want our Souls. Though this high enticement charms my blood, like The music of the Drum. Yet my remembrance Calls you King; My Royal Master. I would Not join rebellion and ingratitude To the prolix number of my sins. O fond, indulgent Boy! I mourn at this Decay of thy humanity and sense. Does it become my great being, and my Glorious name in story, to offend Without resistance? Draw: and be nimble In thy motion—
nodes 2367–2436 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 35 of 39 in this edition
Length
496 words · 663 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.832 (cosine to the topic centroid)
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)
Hah! Paradine! VVhat witty emblem's this? The more to certifie thy loue, doſt thou Appeare blind. O Sir, do not mocke my penitence, nor ſeeme Thus to diſguize the knowledge of that crime, VVhich hath defil'd my modeſt bloud, and makes Me now aſham'd t' incounter with your eyes. He is drunke! Maudlin drunke! Sir, I could creepe aliue into my Tombe, And mixe ſociety with Ghoſts, whilſt I Haue yet warme motion left, could I but hide My guilt from your perſpicuous ſight. By heauen drunke with Cider, or with thinne Beere; That lookes like th' vrine of a Babe: I'm ſure The Corſicke Grape infuſeth no Such whining paſſion. Thoſe immateriall powers, that ſee the thoughts of men, VVhen growing in their hearts, can witneſſe I Abus'd your Royall bed, but by a dire Miſtake. Hah! Your blacke adulterous Queene betray'd Me to her luſt by wicked Arts. This is a ſober paſſion, but implies Something that is horrid. Had not heroique warre taught me t' affect No rage, but noble; ſhe and Hermegild Had intic'd me now to lengthen this your ſleepe, Vntill the day of generall accounts. Suſpect muſt now be raſh. Make your face known! He bluſhes like a Bride; whom through her thin Curtaines, the peeping Sunne beholds in ſoft Skirmiſh with her Lord. I muſt counterfeit, And ſeeme to know all. Paradine, 'twas farre From my coniecture, that a heart ſo much Oblig'd vnto my loue as thine, ſhould wrong My Honour in a ſenſe, which but to mould In words would teach my tongue to ſtammer, and Deafen all that heare it. Thunder and ſulpherous fire ſnatch my cold limmes From this dull earth. Sir, whilſt my ſoule affords Me reaſon, and can direct me vnto whom My true alleageance is a debt, kill me! When I am mad, I ſhall forget all duty, And refuſe t' obey your Royall Charter. Thruſt your good Sword home, till my heart ſhall kiſſe Your Hilts. Are you ſo ſlow in iuſtice? Thinke, How by a darke miſtake, I whor'd your Queene: Whor'd your Queene! O prodigious phraſe! Houle, meager Wolues! empty Tygers! let the hoarce Thracian Bull bellow, till he rent his throat; And the hot mountaine-Lion rore, vntill Their clamour wake the dead. The reſurrection Is too long delayd, ſince we want horror To celebrate this newes. Good! I haue now Decreed it. Draw thy bright weapon!— For what dire vſe? That we may meet in ſingle battaile here, And ſtruggle till we want our Soules. Though this high inticement charmes my blood, like The muſicke of the Drumme. Yet my remembrance Calls you King; My Royall Maſter. I would Not ioyne rebellion and ingratitude To the prolixe number of my ſinnes. O fond, indulgent Boy! I mourne at this Decay of thy humanity and ſenſe. Does it become my great being, and my Glorious name in ſtory, to offend Without reſiſtance? Draw: and be nimble In thy motion—