Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip · published 1632 · first performed or written 1619 [1617-1619] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.73 · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Then here our quarrel ends. The gallant is turned tailor, and all friends. You have them ready. Yes, and they will speak Their knowledge in this cause, when thou thinkst fit To have them called upon. 'Tis well, and something I can add to their evidence, to prove This brave revenge, which they would have called murder, A noble justice. In this you express (The breach by my Lords want of you, new made up) A faithful friend. That friendship's raised on sand, Which every sudden gust of discontent, Or flowing of our passions can change, As if it ne'er had been: but do you know Who are to sit on him? monsieur Du Assisted by Charmi. The Advocate That pleaded for the Marshals funeral, And was checked for it by Novall. The same. How fortunes that? Why, sir, my Lord Novall Being the accuser, cannot be the judge, Nor would grieve Roshfort, but Lord Charaloys (However he might wrong him by his power,) Should have an equal hearing. By my hopes. Of Charaloys acquittal, I lament That reverent old man's fortune. Had you seen him, As to my grief I have now promised patience, And ere it was believed, though spoken by him That never broke his word, enraged again So far as to make war upon those heirs, Which not a barbarous Scythian durst presume To touch, but with a superstitious fear, As something sacred, and then curse his daughter, But with more frequent violence himself, As if he had been guilty of her fault, By being incredulous of your report, You would not only judge him worthy pity, But suffer with him. But here comes the prisoner, I dare not stay to do my duty to him, Yet rest assured, all possible means in me To do him service, keeps you company. It is not doubted. Why, yet as I came hither, The people apt to mock calamity, And tread on the oppressed, made no hormes at me, Though they are too familiar: I deserve them. And knowing what blood my sword hath drunk In wreak of that disgrace, they yet forbore To shake their heads, or to revile me for A murderer, they rather all put on (As for great losses the old Romans used) A general face of sorrow, weighted on By a sad murmur breaking through their silence, And no eye but was readier with a tear To witness 'twas shed for me, than I could Discern a face made up with scorn against me. Why should I then, though for unusual wrongs I chose unusual means to right those wrongs, Condemn myself, as over-partial In my own cause Romont? Best friend, well met, By my heart's love to you, and join to that, My thankfulness that still lives to the dead, I look upon you now with more true joy, Then when I saw you married.
nodes 2381–2454 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 37 of 42 in this edition
Length
483 words · 619 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.727 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Then here our quarrell ends. The gallant is turn'd Taylor, and all friends. You haue them ready. Yes, and they will spake Their knowledg in this cause, when thou thinkst fit To haue them cal'd vpon. 'Tis well, and something I can adde to their euidence, to proue This braue reuenge, which they would haue cal'd murther, A noble Iustice. In this you expresse (The breach by my Lords want of you, new made vp) A faythfull friend. That friendship's rays'd on sand, Which euery sudden gust of discontent, Or flowing of our passions can change, As if it nere had bin: but doe you know Who are to sit on him? Mounsieur Du Croy Assisted by Charmi. The Aduocate That pleaded for the Marshalls unrall, And was checkt for it by Nouall. The same. How fortunes that? Why, sir, my Lord Nouall Being the accuser, cannot be the Iudge, Nor would grieue Roshfort, but Lord Charaloys (How-euer he might wrong him by his power,) Should haue an equall hearing. By my hopes. Of Charaloys acquitall, I lament That reuerent old mans fortune. Had you seene him, As to my griefe I haue now promis'd patience, And ere it was beleeu'd, though spake by him That neuer brake his word, inrag'd againe So far as to make warre vpon those heires, Which not a barbarous Scythian durst presume To touch, but with a superstitious feare, As something sacred, and then curse his daughter, But with more frequent violence himselfe, As if he had bin guilty of her fault, By being incredulous of your report, You would not onely iudge him worrhy pitty, But suffer with him. But heere comes the prisoner, I dare not stay to doe my duty to him, Yet rest assur'd, all possible meanes in me To doe him seruice, keepes you company. It is not doubted. Why, yet as I came hither, The people apt to mocke calamity, And tread on the oppress'd, made no hormes at me, Though they are too familiar: I deserue them. And knowing what blood my sword hath drunke In wreake of that disgrace, they yet forbare To shake their heads, or to reuile me for A murtherer, they rather all put on (As for great losses the old Romans vs'd) A generall face of sorrow, waighted on By a sad murmur breaking through their silence, And no eye but was readier with a teare To witnesse 'twas shed for me, then I could Discerne a fce made vp with scorne against me. Why should I then, though for vnusuall wrongs I chose vnusuall meanes to right those wrongs, Condemne my selfe, as ouer-partiall In my owne cause Romont? Best friend, well met, By my hearts lou to you, and ioyne to that, My thankfulnesse that still liues to the dead, I looke vpon you now with more true ioy, Then when I saw you married.