Shirley, James · published 1629 · first performed or written 1626 (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.80 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
'Las good old man. My afflictions Are not yet numbered in my fate, nor I Held ripe for Death. Now read the Letter. Yes, it cannot make me know more misery. Beauford, I dare not call thee mine, though I could not hope, (while I was living,) thou wouldst believe my innocence, deny me not this favour after Death, to say I once loved thee— Ha death? Captain is she dead? I hope she employed not me, to bring this news. Yes, Death— ha? Prithee read the rest: there's something In my eyes, I cannot well distinguish Her small Characters. My Accuser by this time, knows the reward of my injury Farewell, I am carrying my Prayers for thee to another World— her own Martyr, drowned Gratiana. Read all. I have. It cannot be, for when thou mak'st an end, My heart should give a tragic period, And with a loud sigh break: drowned 'twas no sin above heaven's pardon, Though thou hadst been false, To thy first vow, and me, I would not had Thee died so soon: or if thou hadst affected That death, I could ha' drowned thee with my tears, Now they shall never find thee, but be lost Within thy watery Sepulchre. Take comfort. Art dead? Then here i'll Coffin up myself, until The Law unbury me for Marwood's death, I won't hope for life, mercy sha' not save Him, that hath now a patent for his Grave. 'tis his command to whom I owe all service, I should attend you. thouart too diligent: I prithee leave me. I should be unhappy To be offensive in my duty; yet Had I no charge upon me, I should much Desire to wait. On me? I know not why, Your sorrow does invite me. thouart too young, To be acquainted wilt. I know, it would not Become my distance, to dispute with you, At what age, we are fittest to receive Our grief's impression. Leave me to myself— I must, if you will have it so. methought I saw him drop a tear, come back again: What should he mean by this unwillingness To part; he looks, as he would make me leave My own misfortune to pity his: Thy name? I am called Milisent. Dost thou put on that countenance to imitate Mine? or hast a sorrow of thy own, thou Wouldst express by't. Mine does become my fortune. Yet yours does so exactly paint our misery That he, that wanted of his own, would mourn To see your picture. Mine is above The common level of affliction. Mine had no example to be drawn by, I would they were a kin, so I might make Your burden less by mine own suffering. I thank thy love. And yet I prophesy, There's something would make mine a part of yours, Were they examined. Passion makes thee wild now. You have encouraged me to boldness, pardon My ruder language.
nodes 1308–1383 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 22 of 36 in this edition
Length
492 words · 645 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.801 (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)
'Las good old man. My afflictions Are not yet numbred in my fate, nor I Held ripe for Death. Now read the Letter. Yes, it cannot make me know more misery. Beauford, I dare not call thoe mine, though I could not hope, (while I was liuing,) thou wouldst beleeue my innocence, deny me no this fauour after Death, to say I once lou'd thee— H death? Captaine is she dead? I hope shee employd not me, to bring this newes. Yes, Death — ha? Prethee read the rest: there's something In my eyes, I cannot well distinguish Her small Characters. My Accuser by this time, knowes the reward of my iniury Farewell, I am carrying my Prayers for thee to another World— her owne Martyr, drown'd Gratiana. Read all. I haue. It cannot be, for when thou mak'st an end, My heart should giue a tragicke period, And with a loud sigh breake: drown'd Twas no sinne aboue heauens pardon▪ Though thou hadst beene false, To thy first vow, and me, I wod not had Thee dyed so soone▪ or if thou hadst affected That death, I could ha drownd thee with my teares, Now they shall neuer find thee, but be lost Within thy watery Sepulcher. Take comfort. Art dead? Then here ile Coffin vp my selfe, vntill The Law vnbury me for Marwoods death, I wot hope for life, mercy sha' not saue Him, that hath now a pattent for his Graue. Tis his command to whom I owe all seruice, I should attend you. Th'art too diligent: I prethee leaue me. I should be vnhappy To be offensiue in my duty; yet Had I no charge vpon me, I should much Desire to waite. On mee? I know not why, Your sorrow does inuite me. Th'art too young, To be acquainted wo't. I know, it wod not Become my distance, to dispute with you, At what age, we are fittest to receiue Our griefes impression. Leaue me to my selfe— I must, if you will haue it so. Me thought I saw him drop a teare, come backe agen: What should he meane by this vnwillingnesse To part; he lookes, as he would make me leaue My owne mis-fortune to pitty his: Thy name? I am called Milisent. Dost thou put on that countenance to imitate Mine? or hast a sorrow of thy owne, thou Wouldst expresse by't. Mine does become my fortune. Yet yours does so exactly paint out misery That he, that wanted of his owne, would mourne To see your picture. Mine is aboue The common leuell of affliction. Mine had no example to be drawne by, I would they were a kin, so I might make Your burden lesse by mine owne suffering. I thanke thy loue. And yet I prophesie, There's something would make mine a part of yours, Were they examin'd. Passion makes thee wild now. You haue encouraged me to boldnes, pardon My ruder language.