Davenant, William · published 1630 · first performed or written 1629 [licensed for stage, Oct 2] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.77 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Stiff as a column!— Th'Arcadian wrestler told Young Theseus so; but he did yield as if His sinews had been made of silk. So fierce?— I'll work thy strength so low, that Virgins shall Have power to shackle thee with spinners threads— Thus I will bore thy flesh, till thou become Transparent as a Sieve— This closure hath Entangled us, let's make another charge? even thus divided Billows part, that they May meet in greater foam— Wilt thou not bleed? Not yet?— I skirmish with unbodied Air. Thy guilt betrays thy hand unto mistakes, And thus my injured Spirits greet thy life— That Wound gapes like to a yawning Giant. So hot is thy lascivious blood, that as I sprinkle it, it scalds my hands— I reel Before thy breast, and stumble at a Wart— Thy Sword's my Captive now. Mervolle, hoa! I have some courage yet, left in my Teeth, If thou art kind, come nearer with my Throat— O the Celestial powers are just. See there, He bleeds like to a Spring, that borders on The Rubic Sea, whilst I remain untouched. Has he not lost the benefit of breath? Stop all his wounds, and give him time to spend The rest of's moisture in repentant Tears— My wounds closed up, what means this courtesy? That thou might'st leisure have to pray. Be sure when's devotions have arrived Unto a powerful length; you strangle him. Can thy young honour stoop to such low flight? Unto resistance equal, I exposed My strength, to try thy courage and my fate. This was my justice to myself: Justice I'll give to thee: Thy crimes do merit death. O sooth my last ambition then. be thou My Executioner. Thou art disarmed, Thy blooming honours now are withered on Thy Crest. I should deprive my Anger of Her fame, to be thy active opposite. Scoperta, stay. My Soul shall hover strait With thine. Stay for me in the Milky-path. Let Italy avouch the just demean Of my revenge. Dull Britons know no wrath. Th'unskilful youth, that equal Duel give To him that first incensed the blood; but tempt The courtesy of Fate, such take delight To stroke abuse, pay Injuries, with right. This way (Sir) leads unto your Grave. You shall Have space, to gain some friendship with the Saints— A sudden frost congeals my Heart; I shrink Like crooked Age; I am unwieldy on My joints, as if my veins were empty grown.— Wounded. His point has stolen into my Breast. Oh help. I've yet some use for life. Th'nice search, I made to know Heavens secret justice is Avenged. (Bold Earth!) I weep into the Sea, And sigh t'augment the winds. Repentance is An immaterial Salve, it cures th'unsound Diseased Soul, but not the Body's wound. A Guard upon my Gates, and have they there Been placed ere since the first arrival of The Night? Mervolle keeps the Keys, he'll let No servant be awake about the house.
nodes 1640–1709 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 24 of 31 in this edition
Length
497 words · 694 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.766 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
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)
Stiffe as a columne! — Th'Arcadian wraſtler told Young Theſeus ſo; but he did yeeld as if His ſinnewes had binne made of ſilke. So fierce?— I'le worke thy ſtrength ſo low, that Virgins ſhall Haue power to ſhakle thee with ſpinners Thrids— Thus I will bore thy fleſh, till thou become Tranſparant as a Sieve— This cloſure hath Intangled vs, let's make another charge? Euen thus diuided Billowes part, that they May meete in greater foame— Wilt thou not bleede? Not yet?—I skirmiſh with vnbodied Aire. Thy guillt betrai's thy hand vnto miſtakes, And thus my iniurd Spirits greete thy life— That Wound gapes like to a yawning Giant. So hot is thy laſciuious blood, that as I ſprinkle it, it ſcaldes my hands— I reele Before thy breaſt, and ſtumble at a Wart— Thy Sword's my Captiue now. Meruolle, hoa! haue ſome courage yet, let in my Teeth, If thou art kinde, come neerer with my Throate— O the Celeſtiall powers are iuſt. See there, He bleeds like to a Spring, that borders on The Rubicke Sea, whilſt I remaine vntuch'd. Has he not loſt the benefit of breath? Stop all his wounds, and giue him time to ſpend The reſt of's moiſture in repentant Teares— My wounds cloſ'd vp, what meanes this courteſy? That thou might'ſt leaſure haue to pray. Be ſure when's deuotions haue ariu'd Vnto a powerfull length; you ſtrangle him. Can thy young honour ſtoope to ſuch low flight? Vnto reſiſtance equall, I expoſd My ſtrength, to try thy courage and my fate. This was my iuſtie to my ſelfe: uſtice I'le giue to thee: Thy crimes doe merit death. O ſooth my laſt ambition then▪ be thou My Executioner. Thou art diſarm'd, Thy blooming honors now are wither'd on Thy Creſt. I ſhould depriue my Anger of Her fame, to be thy actiue oppoſite. Scoperta, ſtay. My Soule ſhall houer ſtraite With thine. Stay for me in the Milky-path. Let Italy avowch the iuſt demeane Of my reuenge. Dull Brittaines know no wrath. Th'vnskillfull youth, that equall Duell giue To him that firſt incenſd the blood; but tempt The curteſie of Fate, ſuch take delight To ſtroke abuſe, pay Iniuries, with right. This way (Sir) leades vnto your Graue. You ſhall Haue ſpace, to gaine ſome friendſhip with the Saints — A ſudden froſt congeales my Heart; I ſhrinke Like crooked Age; I am vnwieldy on My ioynts, as if my vaines were empty growne.— Wounded. His point has ſtollne into my Breaſt. Oh helpe. I'ue yet ſome vſe for life. Th'nice ſearch, I made to know Heaun's ſecret iuſtice is Aueng'd. (Bold Earth!) I weepe into the Sea, And ſigh t'augment the windes. Repentance is An immateriall Salue, it cures th'vnſound Diſeaſed Soule, but not the Bodies wound. A Guard vpon my Gates, and haue they there Binne plac'd ere ſince the firſt ariuall of The Night? Meruolle keepes the Keyes, hole let No ſeruant be awake about the houſe.