Massinger, Philip · published 1632 · first performed or written 1621 [1621-1622; prologue, 1629/30(?)] (Annals) tragicomedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.72 · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
A calf's head is More worth than mine, I am sure it had more brains in't Or I had never come here. And I will eat it With bacon, if I have not speedy ransom. And a little garlic too, for your own sake Sir I will boil in your stomach else. Beware of mine Or the horns may choke you. I am married Sir. You shall have my row of houses near the palace And my villa all. All that we have. Well, have more wit hereafter For this time you are ransomed. Off with their irons. Do do. If you are ours again, you know your price. Pray you dispatch us: I shall ne'er believe I am a freeman, till I set my foot In Sicilie again, and drink Palermo, And in Palermo too. The wind fits fair, You shall aboard tonight with the rising Sun You may touch upon the coast. But take your leaves Of the late General first. I will be brief. And I, my lord heaven keep you. Yours to use In the way of peace, but as your soldiers never. A pox of war no more of war. Have you Authority to lose their bonds, yet leave The brother of your King, whose worth disdains Comparison with such as these, in irons? If ransom may redeem them, I have lands, A patrimony of mine own assigned me, By my deceased sire to satisfy whate'er can be demanded for my freedom. I wish you had Sir, but the king who yields No reason for his will, in his displeasure Hath seized on all you had; nor will Gonzaga, Whose prisoner now you are, accept of less Than fifty thousand crowns. I find it now That misery ne'er comes alone. But grant The King is yet inexorable, time May work him to a feeling of my sufferings. I have friends, that swore their lives and fortunes were At my devotion, and among the rest yourself my lord, when forfeited to the Law For a foul murder, and in cold blood done, I made your life my gift, and reconciled you To this incensed king, and got your pardon. Beware ingratitude. I know you are rich And may pay down the Sum. I might my lord, But pardon me. And will Astutio prove then To please a passionate man, the kings no more, False to his maker and his reason? which Commands more than I ask? o summer friendship, Whose flattering leaves that shadowed us in Our prosperity, with the least gust drop off In th'autumn of adversity! How like A prison is to a grave! when dead we are With solemn Pomp brought thither, and our heirs, (Masking their joy in false dissembled tears) Weep o'er the hearse, but earth no sooner covers The earth brought thither, but they turn away With inward smiles, the dead no more remembered. So entered in a prison.
nodes 1271–1340 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 18 of 37 in this edition
Length
489 words · 614 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.722 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
A calves head is More worth then mine, I am sure it had more braines in't Or I had never come here. And I will eate it With bacon, if I have not speedy ransome. And a little garlick too, for your own sake Sir I will boyle in your stomacke else. Beware of mine Or the hornes may choake you. I am married Sir. You shall have my row of houses neare the pallace And my vila all. All that we have. Well, have more wit hereafter For this time you are ransom'd. Off with their irons. Do do If you are ours again, you know your price. Pray you dispatch us: I shall nere beleeve I am a freeman, till I set my foote In Sicilie agen, and drinke Palermo, And in Palermo too. The wind fits faire, You shall aboord to night with the rising Sun You may touch upon the coast. But take your leaves Of the late Generall first. I will be briefe. And I, my lord heaven keepe you. Yours to use In the way of peace, but as your souldiers never. A pox of war no more of war. Have you Authority to loose their bonds, yet leave The brother of your King, whose worth disdaines Comparison with such as these, in irons? If ransome may redeeme them, I have landes, A patrimony of mine owne assign'd me, By my deceased sire to satisfie What ere can be demanded for my freedome. I wish you had Sir, but the king who yeelds No reason for his will, in his displeasure Hath seas'd on all you had; nor will Gonzaga, Whose prisoner now you are, accept of lesse Then fiftie thousand crownes. I finde it now That misery nere comes alone. But grant The King is yet inexorable, time May worke him to a feeling of my sufferings. I have friends, that swore their lives and fortunes were At my devotion, and among the rest Your selfe my lord, when forfeited to the Law For a foule murther, and in cold blood done, I made your life my gift, and reconcil'd you To this incensed king, and got your pardon. Beware ingratitude. I know you are rich And may pay downe the Sum. I might my lord, But pardon me. And will Astutio prove then To please a passionate man, the kings no more, False to his maker and his reason? which Commandes more then I aske? ô summer friendship, Whose flattering leaves that shaddowed us in Our prosperity, with the least gust drop off In th'Autumne of adversity! How like A prison is to a grave! when dead we are With solemne Pompe brought thither, and our heires, (Masking their joy in false dissembled teares) Weepe ore the hearse, but earth no sooner covers The earth brought thither, but they turne away With inward smiles, the dead no more remembred. So enter'd in a prison.