Davenant, William · published 1630 · first performed or written 1629 [licensed for stage, Oct 2] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T11 Siblings, kin and confidants typicality 0.85 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
Scoperta, thou'lt excuse the carriage of My doubts, I looked on thee with th'eyes of love, And love is still too strict in her survey.— My memory would sin, should it record Ought that might nourish my dislike of you: You made me taste of sorrow, not of wrath. 'tis I, that have most needful use of your Kind charity: forget my errors past, And to oblige my future gratitude Give Hymen leave to know your sister for My wife. My uncle's death hath lent me power Still to maintain her in such quality As shall become my dear respects to you, The greatness of her virtue, and her blood. Take her, and be as tender of her health, As Heaven hath o'er thy wounds; which in their cure Express much miracle.— My joy's so swell My breast, that I do find there's danger in Delight. How blessed Mervolle are thy Arts? Some Angels care assisted the success. Not Altamont's return to life, nor yet Sciolto's and Scoperta's glad reprieve Nor all the joys in reconcilement of Your loves expressed, can my cold senses please: Florello is unkind.— The little God Hath lately pricked her with his bawdy shaft. Tell me Charintha, is thy love sincere: Such as i'th' simple youth of Nature is Exchanged by lovers with a harmless plight? It is sincere, as holy Hermit's vows, And true, as their confession at their deaths. Appear Florello, and receive thy doom. It was Mervolle's care thus to assure Thy Mistress real love, and constancy Ere thou shouldst give too much of thine away. But now receive her from Alteza's hand.— Charintha, thy election is so safe Thou never wilt repent the judgement of Thy sight. He cannot be so near allied Unto the blood of Altamont, but he Must needs participate in virtue too. We will embrace each other until Age, Deprive our courteous sinews of extent.— The gentle Turtle shall direct us how T'augment our loves; the Eagle to renew Our youth, and we will strive to imitate The crooked Vine in our increase.— joy, joy! The firmament is now unmasked, and each Of us, hath found his star. My loved Sister, I have o'erheard the story of your griefs, And from this noble Signior, I must beg A faith endeared, the name of Brother too. You shall be precious to my eyes as day. The great Dandolo and his Giant whelps Are mounted on a Mule. Naked they ride As scouts of Tartary they're victualled with A single egg. What are these, walking Drums? theyare such your knowledge shall affect: they must Enjoy what I achieve. Dull men, o'war, The Trophy of my victory behold, She's mine: bow, and do homage to her lip.— Still thou dost mourn (Alteza) like a Dove. Hark, hark how the Roman-Organ seems T'invoke the Thracian lyre; the Cymbals of Iudea, call Castilian-Cornets forth, And German-Viols wake the Tuscan Lute. The sacred noise attend, that whilst we hear, Our souls may dance into each other's ear.
nodes 2131–2203 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 31 of 31 in this edition
Length
504 words · 703 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T11 — Siblings, kin and confidantscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.855 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T15 · seed 44: T12 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Scoperta, thou'lt excuſe the cariage of My doubts, I look'd on thee with th'eies of loue, And loue is ſtill too ſtrict in her ſuruay. — My memorie woud ſinne, ſhould it record Ought that might nouriſh my diſlike of you: You made me taſte of ſorrow, not of wrath. Tis I, that haue moſt eedfull vſe of your Kind charitie: forget my errors paſt, And to oblige my future gratitude Giue Hymen leaue to know your ſiſter for My wife. y Vnkles death hath lent me power Still to maintaine her in ſuch qualitie As ſhall become my deere reſpects to you, The greatneſſe of her virtue, and her blood. Take her, and be as tender of her health, As Heauen hath o're thy wounds; which in their cure Expreſſe much miracle. — My io's ſo ſwell My breaſt, that I doe finde there's danger in Delight. How bleſs'd Meruolle are thy Arts? Some Angels care aſſiſted the ſucceſſe. Not Altamont's returne to life, nor yet Sciolto's and Scoperta's glad repriue Nor all the ioyes in reconcilement of Your loues expreſs'd, can my cold ſences pleaſe: Florello is vnkinde. — The little God Hath lately prick'd her with his baudy ſhaft. Tell me Charintha, is thy loue ſincere: Such as i'th ſimple youth of Nature is Exchang'd by louers with a harmeleſſe plight? It is ſincere, as holy Hermits vowes, And true, as their confeſſion at their death. Appeare Florello, and receiue thy doome. It was Meruolle's care thus to aſſure Thy Miſtreſſe reall loue, and conſtancie Ere thou ſhouldſt giue too much of thine away. But now receiue her from Alteza's hand. — Charintha, thy election is ſo ſafe Thou neuer wilt repent the iudgement of Thy ſight. He cannot be ſo neere alli'd Vnto the blood of Altamont, but he Muſt needs participate in virtue too. We will embrace each other vntill Age, Depriue our courteous ſinewes of extent. — The gentle Turtle ſhall direct vs how T'augment our loues; the Eagle to renew Our youth, and we will ſtriue to imitate The crooked Vine in our increaſe. — Ioy, ioy! The firmament is now vnmask'd, and each Of vs, hath found his ſtarre. My Lou'd Siſter, I haue orchear'd the ſtory of your griefs, And from this noble Signior, I muſt begge A faith indeer'd, the name of Brother too. You ſhall be precious to my eies as day. The great Dandolo and his Giant whelpes Are mounted on a Mule. Naked they ride As ſcoutes of Tartary they're victual'd with A ſingle egge. What are theſe, walking Drummes? Th'are ſuch your knowledge ſhall affect: they muſt Inioy what I atchieue. Dull men, o'war, The Trophie of my victorie behold, She's mine: bow, and doe homage to her lippe. — Still thou doſt mourn (Alteza) like a Doue. Hearke, hearke how the Roman-Organ ſeemes T'inuoke the Thracian Lire; the Cymbals of Iudea, call Caſtilian-Cornets foorth, And German-Viols wake the Tuſcan Lute▪ The ſacred noiſe attend, that whilſt wee heare, Our ſoules may dance into each others eare.