The Spanish Tragedy (Hieronimo is Mad Again) · chunk 23 of 41
Kyd, Thomas · published 1592 · first performed or written 1587 [1585-1589; revised c.1597(?) and 1601-2] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Sirrah, dost see yonder boy with the box in his hand? What, he that points to it with his finger. I that companion. I know him not, but what of him? Dost thou think to live till his old doublet will make thee a new truss? ay, and many a fair year after, to truss up many an honester man than either thou or he. What hath he in his box as thou thinkst? Faith I cannot tell, nor I care not greatly. methinks you should rather hearken to your soul's health. Why sirrah Hangman? I take it, that that is good for the body, is likewise good for the soul: and it may be, in that box is balm for both. Well, thou art even the merriest piece of man's flesh that ere groaned at my office door. Is your roguery become an office with a knaves name? ay, and that shall all they witness that see you seal it with a thieves name. I prithee request this good company to pray with me. I marry sir, this is a good motion: my masters, you see here's a good fellow. Nay, nay, now I remember me, let them alone till some other time, for now I have no great need. I have not seen a wretch so impudent, O monstrous times where murders set so light, And where the soul that should be shrined in heaven, Solely delights in interdicted things, Still wandering in the thorny passages, That intercepts itself of happiness. Murder, O bloody monster, God forbid, A fault so foul should scape unpunished. Dispatch and see this execution done, This makes me to remember thee my son. Nay soft, no haste. Why, wherefore stay you, have you hope of life? Why I. As how? Why Rascal by my pardon from the King. stand you on that, than you shall off with this. So Executioner, convey him hence, But let his body be unburied. Let not the earth be choked or infect. With that which heavens contemns and men neglect. Where shall I run to breathe abroad my woes, My woes whose weight hath wearied the earth? Or mine exclaims that have surcharged the air, With ceaseless plaints, for my deceased son? The blustering winds conspiring with my words, At my lament have moved the leafless trees. disrobed the meadows of their flowered green, Made mountains marsh with spring tides of my tears, And broken through the brazen gates of hell, Yet still tormented is my tortured soul, With broken sighs and restless passions, That winged mount, and hovering in the air, Beat at the windows of the brightest heavens, Soliciting for justice and revenge: But they are placed in those imperial heights, Where countermured with walls of diamond, I find the place impregnable, and they Resist my woes, and give my words no way. O Lord sir, God bless you sir, the man sir Petergade, Sir, he that was so full of merry conceits.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Sirra, dost see yonder boy with te box in his hand? What, he that points to it with his finger. I that companion. I know him not, but what of him? Doost thou think to liue till his olde doublet will make thee a new trusse? I, and many a faire yeere after, to trusse vp many an honester man then either thou or he. What hath he in his boxe as thou thinkst? Faith I cannot tell, nor I care not greatly. Me thinks you should rather hearken to your soules health. Why sirra Hangman? I take it, that that is good for the body, is likewise good for the soule: and it may be, in that box is balme for both. Wel, thou art euen the meriest peece of mans flesh that ere gronde at my office doore. Is your roaguery become an office with a knaues name? I, and that shall all they witnes that see you seale it with a theeues name. I prethee request this good company to pray with me. I mary sir, this is a good motion: my maisters, you see heers a good fellow. Nay, nay, now I remember me, let them alone till some other time, for now I haue no great need. I haue not seen a wretch so impudent, O monstrous times where murders set so light, And where the soule that should be shrinde in heauen▪ Solelie delights in interdicted things, Still wandring in the thornie passages, That intercepts it selfe of hapines. Murder, O bloudy monster, God forbid, A fault so foule should scape vnpunished. Dispatch and see this execution done, This makes me to remember thee my sonne. Nay soft, no hast. Why, wherefore stay you, haue you hope of life? Why I. As how? Why Rascall by my pardon from the King. stand you on that, then you shall off with this. So Executioner, conuay him hence, But let his body be vnburied. Let not the earth be choked or infect. With that which heauens contemnes and men neglect. Where shall I run to breath abroad my woes, My woes whose weight hath wearied the earth? Or mine exclaimes that haue surcharged the aire, With ceasles plaints, for my deceased sonne? The blustring winds conspiring with my words, At my lament haue moued the leaueles trees. Disroabde the medowes of their flowred greene, Made mountains marsh with spring tides of my teares, And broken through the brazen gates of hell, Yet still tormented is my tortured soule, With broken sighes and restles passions, That winged mount, and houering in the aire, Beat at the windowes of the brightest heauens, Solliciting for iustice and reuenge: But they are plac't in those imperiall heights, Where countermurde with walles of diamond, I finde the place impregnable, and they Resist my woes, and giue my words no way. O Lord sir, God blesse you sir, the man sir Petergade, Sir, he that was so full of merrie conceits.