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 · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
So ill I merit charity: that all My passions argue cunning and pretence. This is a wise hypocrisy, to hide Thy lust, or snare me in some guilt, whereby The Duke may claim my life, and thou receive More quiet space, t'enjoy Sciolto's limbs. Those angry spirits that reside below, In flaming Ovens, are not more cruel in Their envy, then am I in hate to him. So soon, dost steep him in thy gall, whom thou Hast washed i'th' warm distilments of thy heart. If ere I knew him, with more guilt, then what My wishes and my thoughts contained; let wrath Then make me her experiment, to try How much of pain, mortality can hear. Thy perjured attestations cease; for though The hours are few, since first you did confer, Yet you had both the pregnant thrift, to make The time advantageous to sin. Express, Some mercy in your faith, and hear me speak. Keep thy denial 'tween thy blistered lips. I vtterd' thou art dead. Love is no more. Dost weep? I sooner thought t'have seen the Flint Supple as Sponge; th'obdurate Diamond melt At the Glowworms pale eye. How hath the pride Of Courts misled my youth, that you should think I've lost, all tender compliments of grace? Thou wert a Virgin sweet, so precious in Thy frame, that with the cordage of thy hair Thou mightst have fettered Kings. Thy voice has marred The beauties of the night. When thou didst sing The quiet stars, would fall asleep and wink. Thou art all discord now: thy glory's dark; Thy thin, and roseal blood, is turned to Ink. I have outlived the help of penitence, And benefit of hope. Oft have I said Let's leave the false, the busy world and sleep Beneath our vines; Nature (not cunning) then, Augments our wealth; the dew of heaven is cheap, Nor need we pay forth' Suns warm light, If kind Divinity allow t'each humane soul A star; our issue we'll increase, until The bright and numerous throng be all employed. But I am sterile as a wilderness, My name, is sickness to your memory. Witness you silent powers, the crime is not Derived from me. T'explain my innocence, Know, she that here I housed, t'affront thy pride, Was my chaste sister, not my Concubine. Then you are loyal still, t'oth Marriage vow. But; she treads the slimy path. Scoperta, Is now thy Rival in Sciolto's lust. All springs from the ambition of my guilt.— Although thy penitence be rash, it doth Become thee well, and thou hast quite dissolved The stony corners of my heart. This night I purposed thee a cruel death, but now Rise, and continue mortal still— I'll lay My mercy on thy Lip, and for it take My last farewell—. I'll never see thee more. This is a mercy that confounds the will And strength of all my gratitude. O sad Decree. You have divorced me from your Eyes.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
So ill I merit charitie: that all My paſſions argue cunning and pretence. This is a wiſe hypocriſie, to hide Thy luſt, or ſnare me in ſome guilt, whereby The Duke may claime my life, and thou receiue More quiet ſpace, t'inioy Sciolto's limmes. Thoſe angrie ſpirits that reſide below, In flaming Ouens, are not more cruell in Their enuie, then am I in hate to him. So ſoone, doſt ſteepe him in thy gall, whom thou Haſt waſht'i'th warme diſtilments of thy heart. If ere I knew him, with more guilt, then what My wiſhes and my thoughts containd; let wrath Then make me her experiment, to trie How much of paine, mortalitie can heare. Thy periur'd atteſtations ceaſe; for though The howres are few, ſince firſt you did conferre, Yet you had both the pregnant thrift, to make The time aduantagious to ſinne. Expreſſe, Some mercie in your faith, and heare me ſpeake. Keepe thy deniall 'tweene thy bliſterd lippes. I vtterd' thou art dead. Loue is no more. Doſt weepe? I ſooner thought t'haue ſeene the Flin Supple as Spunge; th'obdurate Diamond melt At the Glow-wormes pale eie. How hath the pride Of Courts miſſe-led my youth, that you ſhould thinke I'ue loſt, all tender complements of grace? Thou wert a Virgin ſweet, ſo precious in Thy frame, that with the cordage of thy haire Thou mightſt haue fetterd Kings. Thy voice has marr'd The beauties of the night. When thou didſt ſing The quiet ſtars, would fall aſleepe and winke. Thou art all diſcord now: thy glorie's darke; Thy thinne, and Roſiall blood, i turn'd to Inke. I haue outliu'd the helpe of penitence, And benefit of hope. Oft haue I ſai'd Let's leaue the falſe, the buiſie world and ſleepe Beneath our vines; Nature (not cunning) then, Augments our wealth; the dew of heauen is cheape, Nor need we pay for'th Sunnes warme light, If kinde Diuinitie allow t'each humane ſoule A ſtarre; our iſſue w'ele increaſe, vntill The bright and numerous throng be all imploi'd. But I am ſterill as a wilderneſſe, My name, is ſickeneſſe to your memorie. Witneſſe you ſilent powers, the crime is not Deriu'd from me. T'explaine my innocence, Know, ſhe that heere I houſd, t'affront thy pride, Was my chaſte ſiſter, not my Concubine. Then you are loiall ſtill, t'oth Mariage vow. But; ſhe treds the ſlimie path. Scoperta, Is now thy Ruall in Sciolto's luſt. All ſprings from the ambition of my guilt. — Although thy penitence be raſh, it doth Become thee well, and thou haſt quie diſſolu'd The ſtonie corners of my heart. This night I purpoſd thee a cruell death, but now Riſe, and continue mortall ſtill—I'le lay My mercy on thy Lip, and for it take My laſt farewell—. I'le neuer ſee thee more. This is a mercy that confounds the will And ſtrength of all my gratitude. O ſad Decree. You haue diuorc'd me from your Eyes.