Massinger, Philip · published 1632 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, Mar 11] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T60 Imperial Rome: rulers, favour and politi · 455 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T60: caesar, rome, emperor, empire, honour, lord, lucius, great, palsgrave, kings.
And is this my offence? As wicked counsel Is still most hurtful unto those that give it; Such as deny to follow what is good, In reason, are the first that must repent it. When I please you shall hear more, in the mean time Thank your own wilful folly that hath changed you From an Empress to a bondwoman. Force the doors, Kill those that dare resist. Dear Sir redeem me. O suffer not, for your own honour's sake, The Empress you so late loved to be made A prisoner in the court. Leap to his lips, You'll find them the best sanctuary. And try then, What interest my reverend Sister hath To force you from 'em. What strange may-game's this? Though done in sport, how ill this levity Becomes your wisdom? I am serious Sir, And have done nothing but what you in honour, And as you are yourself an Emperor, Stand bound to justify. Take heed, put not these Strange trials on my patience. Do not you Sir, Deny your own act; as you are a man, And stand on your own bottoms, 'twill appear A childish weakness to make void a grant, Signed by your sacred hand, and seal, and strengthened With a religious oath, but with my licence, Never to be recalled. For some few minutes, Let reason rule your passion, and in this, delivers the deed. be pleased to read my interest; you will find there What you in me call violence, is justice, And that I may make use of what's mine own, According to my will. 'tis your own gift Sir, And what an Emperor gives, should stand as firm As the celestial poles upon the shoulders Of Atlas, or his successor in that office The great Alcides. Miseries of more weight, Then 'tis feigned they supported, fall upon me, What hath my rashness done? in this transaction Drawn, in express and formal terms I have Given and consigned into your hands, to use And observe, as you please, my dear Eudoxa. It is my deed, I do confess it is, And as I am myself, not to be canceled: But yet you may show mercy, and you will, When you consider that there is no beauty, So perfect in a creature, but is soiled With some unbeseeming blemish; you have laboured To build me up a complete Prince, 'tis granted, Yet as I am a man, like other Monarchs, I have defects and frailties, my facility, To send petitioners with pleased looks from me, Is all I can be charged with, and it will Become your wisdom, (since 'tis in your power) In charity to provide, I fall no further Or in my oath, or honour.
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)
And is this my offence? As wicked counsell Is still most hurtfull vnto those that giue it; Such as deny to follow what is good, In reason, are the first that must repent it. When I please you shall heare more, in the meane time Thank your owne wilfull follie that hath chang'd you From an Empresse to a bondewoman. Force the doores, Kill those that dare resist. Deere Sir redeeme mee. O suffer not, for your owne honors sake, The Empresse you so late lou'd to bee made A prisoner in the court. Leape to his lippes, You 'll finde them the best sanctuarie. And trie then, What interest my reuerend Sister hath To force you from 'em. What strange may-game's this? Though done in sport, how ill this leuitie Becomes your wisdome? I am serious Sir, And haue done nothing but what you in honor, And as you are your selfe an Emperour, Stand bound to iustifie. Take heed, put not these Strange trialls on my patience. Doe not you Sir, Denie your owne act; as you are a man, And stand on your owne bottomes, 'twill appeare A childish weakenes to make void a grant, Sign'd by your sacred hand, and seale, and strengthend With a religious oth, but with my licence, Neuer to be recall'd. For some few minutes, Let reason rule your passion, and in this, deliuers the deed. Bee pleas'd to reade my interest; you will finde there What you in me call violence, is iustice, And that I may make vse of what's mine owne, According to my will. 'tis your owne gift Sir, And what an Emperour giues, should stand as firme As the celestiall poles vpon the shoulders Of Atlas, or his successor in that office The greate Alcides. Miseries of more waight, Then 'tis faind they supported, fall vpon mee, What hath my rashnese done? in this transaction Drawne, in exprese and formall termes I haue Giuen and consign'd into your handes, to vse And obserue, as you please, my deere Eudoxa. It is my deed, I doe confesse it is, And as I am my selfe, not to bee cancell'd: But yet you may shew mercie, and you will, When you consider that there is no beauty, So perfit in a creature, but is soilde With some vnbeseeming blemish; you haue labour'd To build mee vp a compleate Prince, 'tis granted, Yet as I am a man, like other Monarchs, I haue defects and frayleties, my facilitie, To send petitioners with pleas'd lookes from me, Is all I can be charg'd with, and it will Become your wisdome, (since 'tis in your power) In charitie to prouide, I fall no further Or in my oth, or honor.