Davenant, William · published 1630 · first performed or written 1627 [licensed for stage, Jan 12] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.87 · 532 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
ay there's the point. The giddy multitude Have neither skill, nor leisure to convince Supposition, with Arguments of strength And charity. Their quick censure, brings such Effect, as Spectacles, when used in haste; Which then do rather aggravate the shape: Then give distinction of the form. Who, who, Would live to be an Argument for them? Do ye conclude then, that I must now die? Why is't not apt, and pregnant to your sense, It should be so? Ere I take my last leave of my kind Lord. Ceremonious form, doth oft, so long Delay our journey; till it prove too late To reach our home. 'tis a long way to Heaven. We must make haste. Nay, if your courage fail Before it comes unto the test: I shall Prepare to be unkind. Grim, black fancy Could you endure to see your Lord; defiled, Polluted as you are? That kind Patron To all our family; whose constant love Is warranted by Time; that best can judge Of constancy. Who took you to his bed; Upon conditions cheap, and dangerous To his own estate. Sir, speak no more: but use me as you please; I will obey in all. Come, stretch down your Arm: and permit this Scarf To fasten it to th' Chair. Then veil your Eyes. We must not trust a Woman's valour so— Oh, oh, oh. The torture's past. Thy wrist waynes are cut, Here In this Basin bleed: till dryness make them curl Like Lute-strings in the fire— Commend me to my dearest Lord. I am His humble sacrifice. he'll not be more Unwilling to grant atonement: then I Have been to need it. The Fates give others Expiation: which now they want themselves. I speak too loud. For who dares chide with them That may employ Thunder. Her beauty 'gins to wither. She distils Like to a Rose. O could I separate The blood defiled from what is pure: I would Shed that; then restrain the current, know! (Unskilful Nature) If operation Should long subsist in such gross mixture: Men, Would be Devils 'ere they lived in Hell. I come Celestial Choir!— Ecstasy! through weakness in expense of blood! Dear sister! Disturb not your last Minutes. I must ascend— How! would you enter Heaven; with fetters on Your Soul? clogged with these mortal Limbs. Sit down, Expire in peace. O my Brother! whilst I am yet humane, Let me feel some interest in your blood. What fault of mine deserves impediments In my last journey? If my Lord were here He would have seen me used with mercy. Sweet Soul! these, are but mistakes of weakness. Will not my Lord be merciful; to me, And to my memory. Sit still. I bring no negative reply. Thy worth shall shine in such a Character: That being dead; he needs must woo thy Ghost. And will Posterity consent, that I Abide in List; with those of modest fame? That ginger; who spies thee first Within a Star: must not find thee billeted near to Venus. Such error in his Act; Would make me wreathe his Body into Cords. And with prolix strength draw the dull Caitiff, Through his slender Optic.
nodes 1947–2020 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 29 of 35 in this edition
Length
532 words · 712 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.872 (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)
I there's the point. The giddy multitude Haue neither skill, nor leaſure to cnuince Suppoſition, with Arguments of ſtrength And charitie. Their quicke cenſure, brings ſuch Effct, as Spectacles, when vs'd in haſt; Which then oe rather aggrauate the ſhape: Then giu diſtinction of the forme. Who, who, Would liue to be an Argument for them? Doe ye conclude then, that I muſt now dye? Why iſt not apt, and pregnant to your ſence, It ſhould be ſo? Ere I take my laſt leaue of my kinde Lord. Ceremonious forme, doth oft, ſo long Delay our iourney; till it prooue too late To reach our home. T'is a long way to Heauen. We muſt make haſt. Nay, if your courage faile Before it comes vnto the teſt: I ſhall Prepare to be vnkind. Grimme, black fancy Could you indure to ſee your Lord; defil'd, Polluted as you are? That kinde Patron To all our family; whoſe conſtant loue Is warranted by Time; that beſt can iudge Of conſtancy. Who tooke you to his bed; Vpon conditions cheape, and dangerous To his owne eſtate. Sir, ſpeake no more: but vſe me as you pleaſe; I will obay in all. Come, ſtretch downe your Arme: and permit this Scarfe To faſtne it to th' Chaire. Then vaile your Eies. We muſt not truſt a Woman's vallour ſo— Oh, oh, oh. The torture's paſt. Thy wriſt waynes are cut, Heere In this Baſon bleed: till dryneſſe make them curle Like Lute-ſtrings in the fire— Commend me to my deereſt Lord. I am His humble ſacrifice. Hee'le not be more Vnwilling to grant attonement: then I Haue beene to neede it. The Fates giue others Expiation: which now they want themſelues. I ſpeake too loude. For who dares chide with them That may imploy Thunder. Her beauty'gins to wither. She diſtills Like to a Roſe. O could I ſeparate The blood defil'd from what is pure: I would Shed that; then reſtraine the current, know! (Vnskilfull Nature) If operation Should long ſubſiſt in ſuch groſſe mixture: Men, Would be Deuils 'ere they liu'd in Hell. I come Celeſtiall Quire!— Extaſie! through weakenes in expence of blood! Deare ſiſter! Diſturbe not your laſt Minutes. I muſt aſcend— How! would you enter Heauen; with fetters on Your Soule? clogg'd with theſe mortall Limbs. Sit downe, Expire in peace. O my Brother! whilſt I am yet humane, Let me feele ſome intereſt in your blood. What fault of mine deſerues impediments In my laſt iourney? If my Lord were heere He would haue ſeene me vs'd with mercy. Sweete Soule! theſe, are but miſtakes of weakeneſſe. Will not my Lord be mercifull; to me, And to my memory. Sit ſtill. I bring no negatiue reply. Thy worth ſhall ſhine in ſuch a Character: That being dead; he needs muſt wooe thy Ghoſt. And will Poſterity conſent, that I Abide in Liſt; with thoſe of modeſt fame? That Aſtrologer; who ſpys thee firſt Within a Starre: muſt not finde thee billeted Neere to Venus. Such error in his Act; Would make me wreath his Body into Cords. And with prolix ſtrength draw the dull Caytiffe, Through his ſlender Optick.