The Spanish Tragedy (Hieronimo is Mad Again) · chunk 17 of 41
Kyd, Thomas · published 1592 · first performed or written 1587 [1585-1589; revised c.1597(?) and 1601-2] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.86 · 467 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Thy son doth live, your tribute is received, Thy peace is made, and we are satisfied: The rest resolve upon as things proposed, For both our honours and thy benefit. These are his highness farther articles. Accursed wretch to intimate these ills, Against the life and reputation Of noble Alexandro. come my Lord unbind him. Let him unbind thee that is bound to death, To make a quitall for thy discontent. Dread Lord, in kindness you could do no less, Upon report of such a damned fact: But thus we see our innocence hath saved, The hopeless life which thou Villuppo sought, By thy suggestions to have massacred. Say false Villuppo? wherefore didst thou thus Falsely betray Lord Alexandro's life? Him whom thou knowest, that no unkindness else, But even the slaughter of our dearest son, Could once have moved us to have misconceived. Say treacherous Villuppo, tell the King, Or wherein hath Alexandro used thee ill? Rent with remembrance of so foul a deed, My guilty soul submits me to thy doom: For not for Alexandro's injuries, But, forward and hope to be preferred: Thus have I shamelessly hazarded his life, which villain shallbe ransomed with thy death, And not so mean a torment as we here Devised for him, who thou saidst slew our son: But with the bitterest torments and extremes, That may be yet invented for thine end: Entreat me not, go take the traitor hence. And Alexandro let us honour thee, With public notice of thy loyalty, To end those things articulated here, By our great L, the mighty king of Spain. We with our council will deliberate, Come Alexandro keep us company. Oh eyes, no eyes but fountains fraught with tears, Oh life, no life, but lively form of death: Oh world, no world but mass of public wrongs. Confused and filled, with murder and misdeeds Oh sacred heavens, if this unhallowed deed, If this inhuman and barbarous attempt, If this incomparable murder thus, Of mine, but now no more my son, Shall unrevealed and unrevenged pass, How should we term your dealings to be just, If you unjustly deal with those, that in your justice trust. The night sad secretary to my moans, With direful visions wake my vexed soul, And with the wounds of my distressful son, Solicit me for notice of his death. The ugly fiends do sally forth of hell, And frame my steps to unfrequented paths, And fear my heart with fierce inflamed thoughts. The cloudy day my discontents records, Early begins to register my dreams, And drive me forth to seek the murderer, Eyes, life, world, heavens, hell, night and day, See, search, show, send, some man, Some mean, that may: What's here? a letter, tush, it is not so, A Letter written to Hieronimo.
nodes 1043–1107 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 17 of 41 in this edition
Length
467 words · 640 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.858 (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)
Thy sonne doth liue, your tribute is receiu'd, Thy peace is made, and we are satisfied: The rest resolue vpon as things proposde, For both our honors and thy benefite. These are his highnes farther articles. Accursed wretch to intimate these ills, Against the life and reputation Of noble Alexandro. come my Lord vnbinde him. Let him vnbinde thee that is bound to death, To make a quitall for thy discontent. Dread Lord, in kindenes you could do no lesse, Vpon report of such a damned fact: But thus we see our innocence hath sau'd, The hopeles life which thou Villuppo sought, By thy suggestions to haue massacred. Say false Villuppo? wherefore didst thou thus Falsly betray Lord Alexandros life? Him whom thou knowest, that no vnkindenes els, But euen the slaughter of our deerest sonne, Could once haue moued vs to haue misconceaued. Say trecherous Villuppo, tell the King, Or wherein hath Alexandro vsed thee ill? Rent with remembrance of so foule a deed, My guiltie soule submits me to thy doome: For not for Alexandros iniuries, But, forreward and hope to be preferd: Thus haue I shamelesly hazarded his life, which villaine shalbe ransomed with thy deeth, And not so meanea torment as we heere Deuisde for him, who thou saidst slew our sonne: But with the bitterest torments and extreames, That may be yet inuented for thine end: Intreat me not, goe take the traitor hence. And Alexandro let vs honor thee, With publique notice of thy loyaltie, To end those things articulated heere, By our great L, the mightie king of Spaine. We with our councell will deliberate, Come Alexandro keepe vs company. Oh eies, no eies but fountains fraught with teares, Oh life, no life, but liuely fourme of death: Oh world, no world but masse of publique wrongs. Confusde and filde, with murder and misdeeds Oh sacred heauens, if this vnhallowed deed, If this inhumane and barberous attempt, If this incompaeable murder thus, Of mine, but now no more my sonne, Shall vnreueald and vnreuenged passe, How should we tearme your dealings to be iust, If you vniustly deale with those, that in your iustice trust. The night sad secretary to my mones, With direfull visions wake my vexed soule, And with the wounds of my distresfull sonne, Solicite me for notice of his death. The ougly feends do sally forth of hell, And frame my steps to vnfrequented paths, And feare my hart with fierce inflamed thoughts. The cloudie day my discontents records, Early begins to regester my dreames, And driue me forth to seeke the murtherer, Eies, life, world, heauens, hel, night and day, See, search, shew, send, some man, Some meane, that may: Whats heere? a letter, tush, it is not so, A Letter written to Hieronimo.