Massinger, Philip · published 1632 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, Mar 11] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T5 Christian faith, sin and salvation typicality 0.78 · 519 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T5: god, christ, david, sin, holy, israel, lord, mercy, sins, faith.
Thus like a dying Swan, to a sad tune I sing my own dirge, would a requiem follow Which in my penitence, I despair not of, This brittle glass of life, already broken With misery, the long and quiet sleep Of death would be most welcome, yet before we end our pilgrimage, 'tis fit that we Should leave corruption, and foul sins behind us. But with washed feet, and hands, the Heathens dare not Enter their profane temples; and for me To hope my passage to eternity Can be made easy till I have shook of The burden of my sins in free confession, Aided with sorrow, and repentance for 'em, Is against reason. 'Tis not laying by My royal ornaments, or putting on This garment of humility, and contrition. The throwing dust, and ashes on my head; Long fasts to tame my proud flesh, that can make Atonement for my soul, that must be humbled, All outward signs of penitence, else are useless. Chrysapius did assure me, he would bring me A holy man, from whom (having discovered My secret crying sins) I might receive Full absolution, and he keeps his word. Welcome most reverend Sir, upon my knees I entertain you. Noble Sir forbear, The place, the sacred office that I come for, Commands all privacy. My penitent daughter, be careful, as you wish remission from me, That in confession of your sins, you hide not One crime, whose ponderous weight, when you would make Your flights above the firmament, that may sink you. A foolish modesty in concealing aught Is now far worse than impudence to profess, And justify your guilt, be therefore free So may the gates of mercy open to you. First then, I ask a pardon, for my being Ingrateful to heaven's bounty. A good entrance. Greatness comes from above, and I raised to it From a low condition, sinfully forgot From whence it came, and looking on myself In the false glass of flattery, I received it As a debt due to my beauty, not a gift Or favour from the Emperor. 'Twas not well. Pride waited on unthankfulness, and no more Remembering the compassion of the Princess, And the means she used to make me what I was, Contested with her, and with sore eyes seeing Her greater light, as it dimmed mine, I practised To have it quite put out. A great offence, But on repentance not unpardonable. Forward. O Father, what I now must utter, I fear in the delivery will destroy me, Before you have absolved me. Heaven is gracious. Out with it. Heaven commands us to tell truth. Yet I most sinful wretch, forswore myself. On what occasion? Quite forgetting that An innocent truth can never stand in need Of a guilty lie, being on the sudden asked By the Emperor my husband, for an Apple Presented by him, I swore I had eaten it, When my grieved conscience too well knows, I sent it To comfort sick Paulinus, being a man, I truly loved and favoured. A cold sweat, Like the juice of Hemlock baths me.
seed 43: T4 · seed 44: T5 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Thus like a dying Swan, to a sad tune I sing my owne dirg, would a requiem follow Which in my penitence, I despaire not of, This brittle glasse of life, already broken With misery, the long and quiet sleepe Of death would bee most welcome, yet before Wee end our pilgrimage, 'tis fit that wee Should leaue corruption, and foule sinnes behinde vs. But with wash'd feete, and hands, the Heathens dare not Enter their prophane temples; and for me To hope my passage to eternitie Can bee made easie 'till I haue shooke of The burthen of my sinnes in free confession, Ayded with sorrow, and repentance for 'em, Is against reason. 'Tis not laying by My royall ornaments, or putting on This garment of humility, and contrition. The throwing dust, and ashes on my head; Long fasts to tame my proud flesh, that can make Attonement for my soule, that must be humbled, All outward signes of penitence, els are vselesse. Chrysapius did assure mee, hee would bring mee A holy man, from whom (hauing discoue'd My secret crying sinnes) I might receiue Full absolution, and hee keepes his word. Welcome most reuerend Sir, vpon my knees I enteraine you. Noble Sir forbeare, The place, the cred ofice that I come for, Commandes all priuacie. My penitent daughter, Bee carefull, as you wish remission from mee, That in confession of your sinnes, you hide not One crime, whose ponderous waight, when you would make Your flights aboue the firmament, that may sincke you. A foolish modestie in concealing ought Is now far worse then impudence to professe, And iustifie your guilte, bee therefore free So may the gates of mercie open to you. First thn, I aske a pardon, for my being Ingratefull to heau'ns bountie. A good entrance. Greaenesse comes from aboue, and I rais'd to it From a low condition, sinfully forgot From whence it came, and looking on my selfe In the alse glasse of fltterie, I receiu'd it As a debt due to my beautie, not a gift Or fauour from the Emperour. 'Twas nt well. Pride wayted on vnthankfulnesse, and no more Remembring the compassion of the Princesse, And the meanes she vs'd to make mee what I was, Contested with her, and with sore eyes seing Her greater light, as it dimm'd mine, I practis'd To haue it quite put out. A greate offence, But on repentance not vnpardonable. Forward O Father, what I now must vtter, I feare in the deliuerie will destroy mee, Before you haue absolu'd mee. Heau'n is gratious. Out with it. Heau'n commands vs to tell truth. Yet I most sinfull wretch, forswore my selfe. On what occasion? Quite forgetting that An innocent truth can neuer and in need Of a guiltie le, being on the suddaine ask'd By the Emperour my husband, for an Apple Presented by him, I swore I had eaten it, When my grieu'd conscience too well knowes, I sent it To comfort sicke Paulinus, being a man, I truely lou'd and fauour'd. A cold sweate, Like the iuice of Hemlocke bathes mee.