Davenant, William · published 1630 · first performed or written 1627 [licensed for stage, Jan 12] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T11 Siblings, kin and confidants typicality 0.91 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
Had she included all propinquity Of blood; which lawful Marriage keepeth known, Or promiscuous Copulation, maketh Intricate: this bare word (Honour) had been Enough, t'have divorced her from my mercy. Sweet Lord; do not mistake your Servant: Whose kindness thinks his own Sister (when defiled) Was to base for your use. A bloody kindness to distinguish so She was no Adulteress, but enforced. Her thoughts Were pure: and such a noble sympathy endeared her Soul to mine; that her own Tears, Might soon have washed away her Body's stain, And she again seem clean. Corsa! O my Wife! my bosom Girl! where art thou? Speak, no reply? Art thou so much busied With thy new acquaintance now in Heaven: That thy poor Lord, may not borrow one word At parting? Draw, draw ingrateful Monster! That haste prevented thus our Dialogue. Sir, cool your spleen! take breath awhile: And hear me speak. No false Siren! thou holy Hypocrite! I know thy tricks too well! 'Cause I am young, Too soft of heart, and apt to melt In every flame of my own trivial love; Therefore thou thinkst to practise on me now With subtle phrase. Draw, or else thou diest. Come— Let me die (as she) a sacrifice To thee my Patron. A sacrifice to me! O Foreste! Why dost thou multiply thy skill To thy friend's prejudice? It is not well, In troth it is not. Employ thy own heart: Think upon't thyself. 'tis not kindly done: I should not have used you thus— O my dear Lord! where did I lose your heart? I am o'ercome at these expressions. I cannot weep much: yet my Eyes are moist. O my unskilful gratitude! what dire Mistake, confounds our properties! I killed A Sister, to secure a Friend. 'twas ill, 'twas not the right way. A true Roman now, Would walk aside, and with his own Sword Dismiss his own Soul: and not permit Moisture in youthful Eyes, thus to disgrace The strength of elder love. I cannot weep, But our divinity supplies us with Discreeter ways, to make affection known; Enough. I will prefix but one short Hour, To think upon't. Here sir. Sheath your good sword, Till revenge prove ripe. And I conjure By all my sister's love to follow me: In whose behalf, your justice may employ itself. Which done, you shall behold my Heart Without a Perspective. If it concerneth her; by whom thou dost Conjure my service, I'm bound to follow thee. What hoa! My Lord. Come Minion, come along with us. You walk Unto the bar. If trial find thee false; Thou shalt be scattered into Atoms. O my divining Soul! Sure my Sister Is not safe. Signior Lothario! Here! Signior Cossimo! I am here. Speak low. Cosen Castruchio. I am here too. Why are we scattered thus? 'tis in search of Borachio; who fearing Danger in this action, commits himself Very tamely to his Heels. Let him be damned unthought of. Have you heard, Or seen a Passenger.
nodes 2164–2237 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 32 of 35 in this edition
Length
504 words · 706 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T11 — Siblings, kin and confidantscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.906 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T15 · seed 44: T12 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Had ſhe included all propinquity Of blood; which lawfull Mariage keepeth knowne, Or promiscuous Copulation, maketh Intricate: this bare word (Honor) had bin Enough, t'haue diuorc'd her from my mercy. Sweete Lord; doe not miſtake your Seruant: Whoſe kindeneſſe thinks his owne Siſter (when defil'd) Was to baſe for your vſe. A bloody kindneſſe to diſtinguiſh ſo She was no Adultereſſe, but enforc'd. Her thoughts Were pure: and ſuch a noble ſympathy Indeerd her Soule to mine; that her owne Teares, Might ſoone haue waſh'd away her Bodys ſtaine, And ſhe againe ſeeme cleane. Corſa! O my Wife! my boſome Girle! where art thou? Speake, no reply? Art thou ſo much buſied With thy new acquaintance now in Heauen: That thy poore Lord, may not borrow one word At parting? Draw, draw ingratefull Monſter! That haſt preuented thus our Dialogue. Sir, coole your ſpleene! take breath awhile: And heare me ſpeake. No falſe Syren! thou holy Hypocrite! I know thy tricks too well! 'Cauſe I am yong, Too ſoft of heart, and apt to melt In euery flame of my owne triuiall loue; Therefore thou thinkſt to practiſe on me now With ſubtill phraſe. Draw, or elſe thou dy'ſt. Come—Let me dye (as ſhe) a ſacrifice To thee my Patron. A ſacrifice to me! O Foreſte! Why doſt thou multiply thy skill To thy friends priudice? It is not well, In troth it is not. Imploy thy owne heart: Thinke vpon't thy ſelfe. Tis not kindely done: I ſhould not haue vs'd you thus— O my deere Lord! where did I looſe your heart? I am o'recome at theſe expreſsions. I cannot weepe much: yet my Eies are moyſt. O my vnskilfull gratitude! what dire Miſtake, confounds our properties! I kill'd A Siſter, to ſecure a Friend. T'was ill, Twas not the right way. A true Romane now, Would walke aſide, and with his owne Sword Diſmiſſe his owne Soule: and not permit Moyſture in youthfull Eies, thus to diſgrace The ſtrength of elder loue. I cannot weepe, But our diuinity ſupplyes vs with Diſcreeter wayes, to make affection knowne; Enough. I will prefix but one ſhort Houre, To thinke vpon't. Heere ſir. Sheath your good ſword, Till reuenge prooue ripe. And I coniure By all my Siſters loue to follow me: In whoſe behalfe, your inſtice may imploy It ſelfe. Which done, you ſhall behold my Heart Without a Perſpectiue. If it concerneth her; by whom thou doſt Coniure my ſeruice, I'm bound to follow thee. What hoa! My Lord. Come Minion, come along with vs. You walke Vnto the Barte. If triall find thee falſe; Thou ſhalt be ſcattered into Attomes▪ O my deuining Soule▪ Sure my Siſter Is not ſafe. Signior Lothario! Heere! Signior Coſsimo! I am heere. Speake low. Coſen Caſtruchio. I am heere too. Why are we ſcattered thus? T'is in ſearch of Borachio; who fearing Danger in this action, commits himſelfe Very tamely to his Heeles. Let him be damn'd vnthought of. Haue you heard, Or ſeene a Paſſenger.