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 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Unto thy Lips I'd throw a kiss; but with The strings of my poor solitary Lute They've bound my hands!— O my hot rage! I could Spit fire till I enkindle yonder Grove, Raising a flame that might perplex the Earth, And make'em think Heaven had dropped a Planet. And I could weep until I quenched that flame, And drew suspicion that a second Flood Was come to drown mortality again! This sudden elevation of the Soul, Presageth death: as if it practised how To rise, and climb ere she begins her flight. Whence is that noise? I'll be as calm as are Arabian winds. Scoperta, stay; Unheard we will converse.— They come, they come, dear love, for evermore farewell--- O for the Giant race, to help me heave Those Mountains up; that I might bury this Proud Structure and myself! Yond burly Oake (Whose Roots reach hell) I'll manage till I pound And batter all the Marble into Flower.— You have o'erheard, what will your knowledge grieve. Her Soul is ill prepared: I gave command They should awhile delay her death, lest want Of leisure might destroy her penitence. Remain within the summons of my call: And leave me here. I charge thee by thy Vow, And our friendships dear use, that thou depart. Speak what thou art? Some call me Altamont. I've seen thee walk armed like a magazine, With small Artillery entrenched: but thou Art fitly now prepared for sufferance. Not thy tame sacrifice, but victory I'll be. For naked as I am I will Resist my death; and since unfurnished to Revenge, yet I shall trouble thy best strength.— Sciolto, though, thou merit treachery. And opposition that, by darkest stealth, of thy luxurious soul, Yet I will give thee fair and equal Game. False tyranny! Stay. This I will perform. And 'tis to know the rigour of thy might, What wondrous flame and spirits do possess Thy spacious Breast. There's relish of intent! I'd learn the providence and justice of My Fate; try if they'll let me fall before Th'encounter of thy bestial strength; thou that augment'st thy sins t'o'ercome the memory Of Heaven: in silly hope, th'accompts may be Unwillingly surveyed, because theyare long. Receive thy Sword.— Miracle of bounty! If whilst we struggle in the pride of hope Thou canst so weaken my defence, that I Become disarmed; thy liberty is gained. With solemn penitence I could accuse My crimes 'gainst thee: but grief's akin to fear. This great demeanour of thy spleen divides Th'intent of Gratitude. I know not which T'afford thee most, my envy, or my love. The moon hath now put on her brightest Robe; My anger too, doth carry fire enough To light us to the charge. Guard well thy Heart.— A little respite give,— Must we needs fight? You then would cozen me of my revenge?— Yet stay!— Know I do love thy Sister well. Mark (sweet Heaven) with what exalted triumph He boasts the foul remembrance of his sin.—
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)
Vnto thy Lips I'ld throw a kiſſe; but with The ſtrings of my poore ſolitary Lute They'e bound my hands! — O my hot rage! I could Spit fire till I enkindle yonder Groue, Raiſing a flame that might perplex the Earth, And make'em thinke Heauen had dropp'd a Planet. And I could weepe vntill I quench'd that ame, And drew ſuſpition that a ſecond Flood Was come to drowne mortallitie agen! This ſudden eleuation of the Soule▪ Preſageth death: as if it practis'd how To riſe, and climbe ere ſhe begins her flight. Whence is that noiſe? I'le be as calme as are Arabian winds. Scoperta, ſtay; Vnheard we will conuerſe. — They come, they come, deare loue, for euermore farewell▪ O for the Giant race, to helpe me heaue Thoſe Mountaines vp; that I might burie this Proud Structure and my ſelfe! Yon burlie Oake (Whoſe Roots reach hell) I'le manage till I pownd And batter all the Marble into Flowre.— You haue oreheard, what will your knowledge grieue. Her Soule is ill prepar'd▪ I gaue command They ſhould awhile delay her death, leſt want Of leaſure might deſtroy her penitence. Remaine within the ſummons of my call: And leaue me heere. I charge thee by thy Vow, And our friendſhips deare vſe, that thou depart. Speake what thou art? Some call me Altamont. I'ue ſeene thee walke armd like a Magazin▪ With ſmall Artillerie entrench'd: but thou Art fitly now prepar'd for ſufferance. Not thy tame ſacrifice, but victorie I'le be. For naked as I am I will Reſiſt my death; and ſince vnfurniſh'd to Reuenge, yet I ſhall trouble thy beſt ſtrength.— Sciolto, though, thou merit trechery▪ And opposition that, by darkeſt ſtealth, of thy luxurious ſoule, Yet I will giue thee faire and equall Game. Falſe tyranie! Stay. This I will performe▪ And 'tis to know the rigour of thy might, What wondrous flame and ſpirits doe poſſeſſe Thy ſpacious Breaſt. There's reliſh of intent! I'ld learne the prouidence and iuſtice of My Fate; trie if they'll let me fall before Th'incounter of thy beaſtiall ſtrength; thou that Augments't thy ſinnes t'orecome the memorie Of Heauen: in ſillie hope, th'accompts may be Vnwillinglie ſurua'd, becauſe th'are long. Receiue thy Sword. — Miracle of bountie! If whilſt we ſtruggle in the pride of hope Thou canſt ſo weaken my defence, that I Become diſarm'd; thy libertie is gain'd. With ſolemne penitence I could accuſe My crimes 'gainſt thee: but griefe's akinne to feare. This great demeanue of thy ſpleene diuides Th'intent of Gratitude. I know not which T'affoord thee moſt, my enuie, or my loue. The moone hath now put on her brighteſt Robe; My anger too, doth carrie fire enough To light vs to the charge▪ Guard well thy Heart. — A little reſpite giue,— Muſt we needs ight? You then would couſen me of my reuenge? — Yet ſtay! — Know I doe loue thy Siſter well. Marke (ſweet Heauen) with what exalted triumph He boaſts the fowle remembrance of his ſinne.—