Davenant, William · published 1630 · first performed or written 1627 [licensed for stage, Jan 12] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
And 'tis my duty Sir, to be most prompt In the observance. My Lord! A rude summons, that calls me as a judge, To censure on the errors of my Prince. What, Is he there too? O killing object! Behold (young Lord) the cruel Ravisher. Whom Time himself shall never parallel, Though he survey his old Records, and scratch His reverend Head to waken memory. O horror! furnish us (sweet Heaven) with some Instinct. Inspire remorse: or we accuse Thy skilfulness to predestine us a Prince: Murdering, whom thou didst anoint our Sovereign. My heart swells. I'm full of grief, and danger. Some Iron Hoops to help my Ribs, or I shall burst. The cause deserves great alteration. More than mortality can see, and yet Be safe. I wonder Heaven takes so little Notice of it. I am not singed to death With Lightning Like the door: nor murdered through The Ear with thunder; like a bat. O Lucio! Mind not my former love: but strike, until I groan my last. Foreste sheath thy sword. It must not be. He was our Royal Master once, and might In modesty compare himself; with all But Princes; whom Fame reserves as Patterns, For my sake sheath your Sword. O I shall survive my Royal Charter! My creature is more beautiful than I: More wealthy in his love. For my own part, I will annihilate myself: for should I live, I should grow mad. But I am bound to care for you (my Lord) Take heed! I know the tricks of Majesty. They think they cannot be secure after Doing ill; but by doing worse: that is, By killing quite, whom erst they did but wound. And that's the surgery, which I desire. I will endure all. O my Lord, my Lord; I will not bid Posterity tell tales: nor charge Historians to insert in Annals; On such a Night a great Italian. Duke, Ravished his Creature Lucio's Wife: Sister To Foreste, his active Councillor. Lucio, composed of such an humble love: That to secure his Master's feet, would spread. And scatter all his Limbs, for him to walk upon. And Foreste, whose industry, and care Outwatched Lean-vigilance, till she grew mad. But come, Let's leave him to contrive our deaths. My Heart so fills my mouth, I cannot speak. Lucio stay, Foreste stay awhile. Leave me not thus anatomized with breath. Dissect me really with your good Swords. Behold my Breast, take out my Heart: and if You find your figures there, then use my Fame With Mercy. Foreste come away. Make haste Luinna. I am waked out of a strange amazement. Hide me swelling Hills! rough, and scabbed Rocks, Ye Quarrels cleave, and suck me in, then join Again. Would it not make a Patriarch mad? O who shall bribe the Sun, that in the day Of general accounts: he may avouch He never saw me here. Hah! false Memory! I forgot to tell 'em of Castruchio. 'tis best to o'ertake 'em. I cannot guess Which way they went.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And 'tis my duty Sir, to be moſt prompt In the obſeruance. My Lord! A rude ſummons, that calls me as a Iudge, To cenſure on the errors of my Prince. What, Is he there too? O killing obiect! Behold (yong Lord) the cruell Rauiſher. Whom Time himſelfe ſhall neuer parallell, Though he ſuruay his old Records, and ſcratch His reuerend Head to waken memory. O horror! furnish vs (ſweet Heauen) with ſome Inſtinct. Inſpire remorſe: or we accuſe Thy skilfulneſſe to predeſtine vs a Prince: Murdring, whom thou didſt annoint our Soueraigne. My heart ſwells. I'm full of griefe, and danger. Some Iron Hoopes to helpe my Ribbes, or I ſhall burſt. The cauſe deſerues great alteration. More then mortallity can ſee, and yet Be ſafe. I wonder Heauen takes ſo little Notice of it. I am not ſindg'd to death With Lightning Like the Dorr: nor murdred through The Eare with thunder; like a Batt. O Lucio! Minde not my former loue: but ſtrike, vntill I groane my laſt. Foreſte ſheath thy ſword. It muſt not be. He was our Royall Maſter once, and might In modeſty compare himſelfe; with all But Princes; whom Fame reſerues as Paternes, For my ſake ſheath your Sword. O I ſhall ſuruiue my Royall Charter! My creature is more beautifull then I: More wealthy in his loue. For my owne part, I will annihilate My ſelfe: for ſhould I liue, I ſhould grow madde. But I am bound to care for you (my Lord) Take heede! I know the tricks of Maieſtie. They thinke they cannot be ſecure after Doing ill; but by doing worſe: that is, By killing quite, whom erſt they did but wound. And that's the ſurgery, which I deſire. I will endure all. O my Lord, my Lord; I will not bid Poſterity tell tales: nor charge Hiſtorians to inſert in Annalls; On ſuch a Night a great Italian. Duke, Rauiſh'd his Creature Lucio's Wife: Siſter To Foreſte, his actiue Councellor. Lucio, compos'd of ſuch an humble loue: That to ſecure his Maſters feete, would ſpread. And ſcatter all his Limmes, for him to walke vpon. And Foreſte, whose induſtry, and care Outwatch'd Leane-vigilance, 'till ſhe grew mad. But come, Let's leaue him to contriue our deaths. My Heart ſo fills my mouth, I cannot ſpeake. Lucio ſtay, Foreſte ſtay awhile. Leaue me not thus anatomiz'd with breath. Diſſect me really with your good Swords. Behold my Breaſt, take out my Heart: and if You finde your figures there, then vſe my Fame With Mercy. Foreſte come away. Make haſt Luinna. I am wak'd out of a ſtrange amazement. Hide me ſwelling Hills! rough, and ſcabbed Rocks, Ye Quarrles cleaue, and ſucke me in, then ioyne Againe. Would it not make a Patriarke mad? O who ſhall bribe the Sunne, that in the day Of generall accompts: he may auouch He neuer ſaw me heere. Hah! falſe Memory! I forgot to tell 'em of Caſtruchio. Tis beſt to o'retake 'em. I cannot gueſſe Which way they went.