The Misfortunes of Arthur (Certain Devices and Shows Presented to Her Majesty) · chunk 4 of 35
Hughes, Thomas / Fulbecke, William · published 1587 · first performed or written 1588 [Feb 28] (Annals) tragedy · before the Court T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.74 · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
They, that will drive th'unwilling to their death, Or frustrate death in those, that fain would die, Offend alike. They spoil, that bootless spare. But will my tears and mournings move you nought? Then is it best to die, when friends do mourn. Each where is death: that, fates have well ordained, That each man may bereave himself of life, But none of death: death is so sure a doom: A thousand ways do guide us to our graves. Who then can ever come too late to that, Whence, when he's come, he never can return? Or what avails to hasten on our ends, And long for that, which destinies have sworn? Look back in time, to late is to repent, When furious rage hath once cut of the choice. Death is an end of pain no pain itself. Is't meet a plague, for such excessive wrong, Should be so short? Should one stroke answer all? And wouldst thou die? Well: that contents the laws, What then for Arthur's ire? What for thy fame, Which thou hast stained? What for thy stock thou sham'st? Not death, nor life alone can give a full Revenge: join both in one. Die: and yet live, Where pain may not be oft, let it be long. Seek out some lingering death, whereby, thy corpse May neither touch the dead, nor joy the quick. Die: but no common death: pass Nature's bounds. Set plaints aside, despair yields no relief. The more you search a wound, the more it stings. When guilty minds torment themselves, they heal: Whiles wounds be cured, grief is a salve for grief. Grief is no just esteemer of our deeds: What so hath yet been done, proceeds from chance. The mind, and not the chance, doth make th'unchaste, Then is your fault from Fate, you rest excused: None can be deemed faulty for her Fate. No Fate, but manners fail, when we offend. Impute mishaps to Fates, to manners faults. Love is an error, that may blind the best. A mighty error oft hath seemed a sin. My death is vowed, and death must needs take place. But such a death, as stands with just remorse: Death, to the world, and to her slippery joys: A full divorce from all this Courtly pomp. Where daily penance done for each offence, May render due revenge for every wrong. Which to accomplish: pray my dearest friends, That they forthwith attired in saddest guise, Conduct me to the Cloister next hereby, There to profess, and to renounce the world. Alas▪ What change were that, from Kingly roofs To Cloistered celles? To live, and die at once? To want your stately troops, your friends and kin? To shun the shows and sights of stately Court. To see in sort alive, your country's death? Yea, whatsoe'er even Death itself withdraws From any else, that life with draws from you. Yet since your highness is so fully bent, I will obey, the whiles assuage your grief
nodes 200–258 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 4 of 35 in this edition
Length
499 words · 671 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.738 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
They, that will driue th'unwilling to their death, Or frustrate death in those, that faine would die, Offend alike. They spoile, that botelesse spare. But will my teares and mournings moue you nought? Then is it best to die, when friends doe mourne. Ech where is death: that, fates haue well ordainde, That ech man may bereaue himselfe of life, But none of death: death is so sure a doome: A thousand wayes doe guide vs to our graues. Who then can euer come too late to that, Whence, when h'is come, he neuer can returne? Or what auailes to hasten on our ends, And long for that, which destenies haue sworne? Looke backe in time, to late is to repent, When furious rage hath once cut of the choice. Death is an end of paine▪ no paine it selfe. Is't meéte a plague, for such excessiue wrong, Should be so short? Soould one stroke answere all? And wouldst thou dye? Well: that contents the lawes, What then for Arthurs ire? What for thy fame, Which thou hast stainde? What for thy stocke thou shamst? Not death, nor life alone can giue a full Reuenge: ioyne both in one. Die: and yet liue▪ Where paine may not be oft, let it be long. Seéke out some lingring death, whereby, thy corse May neither touch the dead, nor ioy the quicke. Dye: but no common death: passe Natures boundes. Set plaintes aside, despaire yeélds no reliefe. The more you search a wounde, the more it stings. When guiltie mindes torment them selues, they heale: Whiles woundes be cur'd, griefe is a salue for griefe. Griefe is no iust esteémer of our deédes: What so hath yet beéne done, proceédes from chaunce. The minde, and not the chaunce, doth make th'unchast, Then is your fault from Fate, you rest excusde: None can be deémed faultie for her Fate. No Fate, but manners fayle, when we offende. Impute mishaps to Fates, to manners faultes. Loue is an error, that may blinde the best. A mightie error oft hath seémde a sinne. My death is vowed, and death must neédes take place. But such a death, as standes with iust remorse: Death, to the worlde, and to her slipperie ioyes: A full deuorce from all this Courtly pompe. Where dayly pennance done for each offence, May render due reuenge for euery wrong. Which to accomplish: pray my deérest friends, That they forthwith attyrde in saddest guise, Conduct me to the Cloister next hereby, There to professe, and to renounce the world. Alas▪ What chaunge were that, from Kingly rooffes To Cloistered celles? To liue, and die at once? To want your stately troupes, your friends and kinne? To shun the shewes and sights of stately Court. To seé in sort aliue, your Countries death? Yea, what so'er euen Death it selfe withdrawes From any els, that life with drawes from you. Yet since your highnes is so fully bent, I will obay, the whiles asswage your griefe