Shirley, James · published 1629 · first performed or written 1626 (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.78 · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
What language do I hear, If Beauford it should strike me dead? This day, I had designed for marriage, but I must Pronounce we are eternally divorced: Oh Gratiana, thou hast made a wound Beyond the cure of Surgery, why did nature Empty her treasure in thy face, and leave thee A black prodigious soul? Defend me goodness! Call upon darkness, to obscure thee rather, That never more thou mayst be seen by mortal, Get thee some dwelling in a mist, or in A wild forsaken earth, a Wilderness, Where thou mayst hide thyself, and die forgotten. Where was I lost name what offence provoked This heavy doom, dear Beauford, be not so Injust, to sentence me, before I know What is my crime, or if you will not tell What sin it is, I have committed, great, And horrid, as your anger; let me study, I'll count 'em all before you, never did Penitent, in confession, strip the soul More naked, i'll unclasp my book of conscience, You shall read over my heart, and if you find In that great Volume, but one single thought Which concerned you, and did not end with some Good prayer for you: Oh be just and kill me. Be just, and tell thy conscience, thoust abused it False woman, why dost thou increase thy horror? By the obscuring a misdeed, which would Were all thy other sins forgiven, undo thee Oh Gratiana, thou art.— What am I? A thing I would not name, it sound so fearfully, 'Twould make a Devil blush, to be saluted By that, which thou must answer to. I fear— That fear betrays thy guilt, tell me Gratiana What didst thou see in me to make thee think I was not worthy of thee, at thy best And richest value, when thou were as white In soul, as beauty? for sure, once thou wert so: Hadst thou so cheap opinion of my birth, My breeding, or my fortunes, that none else Could serve for property of your lust, but I? Dear Beauford hear me. A common father to thy sin-got issue, A patron of thy rifled, unchaste womb? Oh thou wert cruel, to reward so ill The heart that truly honoured thee: thy name Which sweetened once the breath of him that spoke it, And musically charmed the gentle ear; Shall sound hereafter like a screech-owl's note, And fright the hearer; Virgins shall lament That thou hast shamed their chaste society, And oft as Hymen lights his tapers up, At the remembrance of thy name, shed tears, And blush for thy dishonour: from this minute, Thy friends shall count thee desperately sick, And whensoe'er thou goest abroad, that day The maids and matrons, thinking thou art dead, And going to the grave, shall all come forth And wait like mourners on thee. ha' ye done? Then hear me a few syllables, you have Suspicion that I am dishonoured.
nodes 784–849 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 13 of 36 in this edition
Length
489 words · 658 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.782 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
What language do I heare, If Beauford it should strike me dead? This day, I had design'd for marriage, but I must Pronounce wee are eternally diuorc'd: Oh Gratiana, thou hast made a wound Beyond the cure of Surgery, why did nature Empty her treasure in thy face, and leaue thee A blacke prodiglous soule? Defend me goodnesse! Call vpon darknesse, to obscure thee rather, That neuer more thou maist be seene by mortall, Get thee some dwelling in a mist, or in A wild forsaken earth, a Wildernesse, Where thou maist hide thy selfe, and dye forgotten. Where was I lost name what offence prouok'd This heauy doome, deare Beauford, be not so Iniust, to sentence me, before I know What is my crime, or if you will not tell What sinne it is, I haue committed, great, And horrid, as your anger; let me study, Ile count em all before you, neuer did Penitent, in confession, strip the soule More naked, ile vnclaspe my booke of conscience, You shall read ore my heart, and if you finde In that great Volume, but one single thought Which concern'd you, and did not end with some Good prayer for you: Oh be iust and kill me. Be iust, and tell thy conscience, th'ast abus'd it False woman, why dost thou increase thy horror? By the obscuring a mis-deed, which wo'd Were all thy other sinnes forgiuen, vndo thee Oh Gratiana, thou art. — What am I? A thing I would not name, it sound so fearfully, 'Twould make a Diuell blush, to be saluted By that, which thou must answere to. I feare— That feare betrayes thy guilt, tell me Gratiana What didst thou see in me to make thee thinke I was not worthy of thee, at thy best And richest value, when thou were as white In soule, as beauty? for sure, once thou wer so: Hadst thou so cheape opinion of my birth, My breeding, or my fortunes, that none else Could serue for propertie of your lust, but I? Deare Beauford heare me. A common father to thy sinne-got issue, A patron of thy ifled, vnchast wombe? Oh tho wert cruell, to reward so ill The heart that truely honor'd thee: thy name Which sweetn'd once the breath of him that spake it, And musically charm'd the gentle eare; Shall sound here-after like a Screech-owles note, And fright the heaer; Virgins shall lament That thou hast sham'd their chast society, And oft as Himen lights his tapers vp, At the remembrance of thy name, shed teares, And blush for thy dishonour: from this minute, Thy friends shall count thee desperately sike, And whensoere thou goest abroad, that day The maides and matrons, thinking thou art dead, And going to the graue, shall all come forth And waite like mourners on thee. Ha yee done? Then heare me a few sillables, you haue Suspition that I am dishonourd.