The School of Compliment (Love Tricks) · chunk 39 of 44
Shirley, James · published 1631 · first performed or written 1625 [licensed for stage, Feb 11] (Annals) comedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.77 · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Come, put on a man's spirit, Mopsa. Well, sir, in regard you are so portunate, although I have forsworn marriage, if you desist constant, you may chance to have a lick at my Maidenhead. I have it, my Brother's lost: I'll send a shepherd in Antonio's name, To invite my Father hither, and that Incubus. I vow not to forsake these Plains, till I Possess myself, or be rejected quite, Suspend thy passions then awhile, Selina, Tomorrow is the Shepherd's Holiday, Which they solemnize with rural pleasures, 'Twill draw them sooner: ha, are they gone? I will not leave 'em, with this thread I shall Tread o'er the Labyrinth, and discover all. Antonio slain? hapless Cornelio, My hopes were treasured up in him, the staff And comfort of my age, and is he gone? Hast sent for Bubulcus? I have, Father, let not too much passion soil that temper Hath been observed in old Cornelio. Why, was not he thy Brother? canst thou Thou hast so little share in young Antonio, That thou darest speak of comfort? Sir, on my life Antonio is not dead. No, no, 'tis impossible. Bubulcus, on my soul's a very coward, And durst as well attempt to take a prey Out of a tiger's jaws, as see a sword With patience bent against him. But cowards in despair prove desperate, and most unhappy. A my conscience I could beat him into a mousehole. Nay, I could beat him, and I am sure you can beat me, would I were well rid of you: 'tis a double misery to be abused, and dare not speak out. Here's Bubulcus. Not guilty, not guilty, and please your Worships, let me not be hanged for a lie of mine own making: 'tis well known I am a stinking coward: not guilty, I beseech you; I never drew sword in anger in my life: if you hang me, you undo me for ever. Look you, sir, 'tis clear. My conscience is as clear as Crystal: not guilty, my Lord, I beseech you— Didst not thou kill Antonio then? Let me be hanged if I did. Stay, he'll confess. I confess I told a lie, thinking to have got some credit: but if ever I saw Antonio, since he gave me two or three kicks, which I deserved well enough, broil me ath' coals. Mercy, oh mercy: do not cast me away upon the Hangman now, in the pride of my youth: not guilty, my Lord. Howsoever fear of death possess him so, I see the murder in his eyes. My eyes? would they were out then: do you see murder in my eyes? are my eyes bloodshot? His very hand doth show a guiltiness, look how it trembles. The fear of hanging hath put my whole body into palsy: My hands guilty? I can wash my hands clean of it, I never killed a Fly. By this hand, not guilty. Which is Cornelio?
nodes 1334–1378 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 39 of 44 in this edition
Length
493 words · 677 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.771 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
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)
Come, put on a mans spirit, Mopsa. Well, sir, in regard you are so portunate, although I haue forsworne marriage, if you desist constant, you may chance to haue a licke at my Maydenhead. I haue it, my Bother's lost: Ile send a shepheard in Antonio's name, To inuite my Father hither, and that Incubus. I vow not to forsake these Plaines, till I Possesse my selfe, or be reiected quite, Suspend thy passions then awhile, Selina, To morrow is the Shepheards Holiday, Which they solemnize with rurall pleasures, 'Twill draw them sooner: ha, are they gone? I will not leaue 'em, with this thread I shall Tread o're the Labyrinth, and discouer all. Antonio slaine? haplesse Cornelio, My hopes were treasur'd vp in him, the staffe And comfort of my age, and is he gone? Hast sent for Bubulcus? I haue, Father, let not too much passion soyle that temper Hath beene obseru'd in old Cornelio. Why, was not he thy Brother? canst thou Thou hast so little share in yong Antonio, That thou darest speake of comfort? Sir, on my life Antonio is not dead. No, no, 'tis impossible. Bubulcus, on my soule's a very coward, And durst as well attempt to take a prey Out of a Tygers iawes, as see a sword With patience bent against him. But cowards in despaire proue desperate, and most vnhappy. A my conscience I could beate him into a mousehole. Nay, I could beate him, and I am sure you can beate me, woo'd I were well rid of you: 'tis a double misery to be abus'd, and dare not speake out. Here's Bubulcus. Not guilty, not guilty, and please your Worships, let me not be hang'd for a lie of mine owne making: 'tis well knowne I am a stinking coward: not guilty, I beseech you; I neuer drew sword in anger in my life: if you hang me, you vndoe me for euer. Looke you, sir, 'tis cleare. My conscience is as cleare as Christall: not guilty, my Lord, I beseech you— Didst not thou kill Antonio then? Let me be hang'd if I did. Stay, he'le confesse. I confesse I told a lie, thinking to haue got some credit: but if euer I saw Antonio, since he gaue me two or three kicks, which I deseru'd well enough, broyle me ath' coales. Mercy, oh mercy: doe not cast me away vpon the Hangman now, in the pride of my youth: not guilty, my Lord. Howsoeuer feare of death possesse him so, I see the murther in his eyes. My eyes? woo'd they were out then: doe you see murther in my eyes? are my eyes blood-shot? His very hand doth shew a guiltinesse, looke how it trembles. The feare of hanging hath put my whole body into palsey: My hands guity? I can wash my hands cleane of it, I neuer kild a Fly. By this hand, not guilty. Which is Cornelio?