Davenant, William · published 1630 · first performed or written 1629 [licensed for stage, Oct 2] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Now am I As rascally a sinner, as ever. Why com'st thou not? O Love! A little grace. Is not thy blood well? Kiss me Sciolto. Shall we be wrapped in curlings intricate? We'll have our artificial heats, and with our own Panting cool us to new, and younger strength. And shall we 'tween two shady Poplars hang I'th' Indian-Net, whose slippery closures may Entangle us so fast, we ne'er shall be Untied again▪ We'll grow as in one skin. Yes, much! Not an inch.— I want thy meaning. And shall my action more. It mightiness And state, taught me to fast from flesh; and now, I am well pleased to make't perpetual Lent. I like this well. My Male is witty grown. Go, kneel to your husband, and beg from him Lawful recreation: myself intend To purchase a few Beads, and turn Votary. She'll ne'er move hence, till I've enraged her spleen. What motive (Sir) persuades ye, use me thus? Why— ye are not handsome. Trim prodigy! Question your Glass! Your Face was carved— out of A Blue cabbage; and 'tis contracted now To one, oblique Wrinkle. Villain, thou liest. Thy aged skull in stead of hair o'ergrown with Moss, and looks as if t'had been, A Thousand years entombed. Adders, and snakes. Thy solitary Teeth, in distance stand Like the decayed Arches of a Bridge. Better, thou'dst been unborn. Wilt not yet go? Thy Fingers are all crooked, like the Talons Of a Griffon. Thou walkst on Cloven-feet. Hoa! Niente. Thy Bones are piled across▪ Much like the Sticks on a conjurer's fire. Are my Grooms dead? what hoa! I'll impound ye.— It must not be. For with these two (of which I mean to rob your armoury) there shall Be passage forced broad enough for a team Of Southern Elephants. Farewell Oyster!— Where are my Grooms, my slaves? injurious wolf. Bark at my precious feature, and thus strew My beauty over, with infamy and dust? Strike my green youth, with Epithets of age? My Altamont ne'er used me thus. He oft Compared me to the Stars, m'eyes t' Eastern light, When day smiles at her birth. O! I could curse The giddy judgement of my blood; that thus Seduced me to forsake that Saint, and mix My knowledge with this Devil. He's fled too, Untouched by my revenge. Niente, hoa! 'Tis Alteza, I know her sinful voice,— O Sir, if anguish, or distress, can make, An humble heart, behold your Lady now; That shortens thus, her stature, at your feet.— What may this forced humility portend? Sciolto (cruel as the winds in March) Hath struck, my womanhood, with tyranny, And scorn. Can Fate present so large a test, Of your true love, (both to yourself, and me) As that you minister revenge upon His Life. Go, and salute his recreant Heart With your bright Steel, and then obedience claim Replete with fond Idolatry, and love. The Fiends are surely married too; for there's No torment like a Wife! false Alteza.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T30 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Now am I As raſcally a ſinner, as euer. Why comſt thou not? O Loue! A little grace. Is not thy blood well? Kiſſe me Sciolto. Shall we be wrap't in curlings intricate? We'le haue our artificiall heates, and with our own Panting coole vs to new, and yonger ſtrength. And ſhall we 'tweene two ſhady Poplars hang I'th Indian-Net, whoſe ſlippery cloſures may Entangle vs ſo faſt, we n'ere ſhall be Vntied agen▪ We'le grow as in one skin. Yes, much! Not an inch.— I want thy meaning. And ſhall my action more. It mightineſſe And ſtate, taught me to faſt from fleſh; and now, I am well pleas'd to make't perpetuall Lent. I like this well. My Male is witty growne. Goe, kneele to your husband, and beg from him Lawfull recreation: My ſelfe intend To purchaſe a few Beades, and turne Vot'ry. She'le nere moue hence, 'till I'ue inrag'd her ſpleene. What motiue (Sir) perſwades ye, vſe me thus? Why—ye are not handſome. Trimme prodigie! Queſtion your Glaſſe! Your Face was caru'd—out of A Blew Cabidge; and 'tis contracted now To one, oblique Wrinkle. Villaine, thou ly'ſt. Thy aged skull in ſtead of haire Oregrowne with Moſſe, and lookes as if t'had binne, A Thouſand yeares entoomb'd. Adders, and ſnakes. Thy ſollitary Teeth, in diſtance ſtand Like the decayed Arches of a Bridge. Better, th'adſt binne vnborne. Wilt not yet goe? Thy Fingers are all crook'd, like the Tallans Of a Griffon. Thou walkſt on Cloven-feete. Hoa! Niente. Thy Bones are pil'd acroſſe▪ Much like the Stickes on a Coniurers fire. Are my Groomes dead? what hoa! I'le impound ye.— It muſt not be. For with theſe two (of which I meane to rob your armorie) there ſhall Be paſſage forc'd broad enough for a Teeme Of Southerne Elephants. Farwell Oiſter! — Where are my Groomes, my ſlaues? iniurious wolfe. Barke at my precious feature, and thus ſtrew My beautie ore, with infamie and duſt? Strike my greene youth, with Epethites of age? My Altamont nere vs'd me thus. He oft Compar'd me to the Starres, m'Eies t' Eaſterne light, When day ſmiles at her birth. O! I could curſe The giddie iudgement of my blood; that thus Seduc'd me to forſake that Saint, and mix My knowledge with this Deuill. He's fled too, Vntouch'd by my reuenge. Niente, hoa! 'Tis Alteza, I know her ſinfull voice,— O Sir, if anguiſh, or diſtreſſe, can make, An humble heart, behold your Lady now; That ſhortens thus, her ſtature, at your feete.— What may this forc'd humillitie portend? Sciolto (cruell as the windes in March) Hath ſtrooke, my womanhood, with tyranie, And ſcorne. Can Fate preſent ſo large a teſt, Of your true loue, (both to your ſelfe, and me) As that you miniſter reuenge vpon His Life. Goe, and ſalute his recreant Heart With your bright Steele, and then obedience claime Repleate with fonde Idolatrie, and loue. The Fiends are ſurelie maried too; for there's Noe torment like a Wife! falſe Alteza.