Peele, George / Shakespeare, William · published 1594 · first performed or written 1594 [Jan 23 (24); poss. written 1590-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Pembroke's Men (?) T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil typicality 0.84 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
Nor I no strength to climb without thy help. Thy hand once more, I will not lose again, Till thou art here a loft or I below: Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee. Along with me, I'll see what hole is here. And what he is that now is leapt into it. Say who art thou that lately didst descend, Into this gaping hollow of the earth. The unhappy sons of old Andronicus, Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, To find thy brother Bassianus dead. My brother dead, I know thou dost but jest, He and his Lady both are at the lodge, Upon the north side of this pleasant chase, 'tis not an hour since I left them there. We know not where you left them all a live, But out alas, here have we found him dead. Where is my Lord the King? Here Tamora, though grieved with kill grief. Where is thy brother Bassianus? Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound, Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ. The complot of this timeless Tragedy, And wonder greatly that man's face can fold, In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. And if we miss to meet him handsomely, Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis we mean, Do thou so much as dig the grave for him, Thou know'st our meaning look for thy reward, Among the Nettles at the Elder tree, Which over shades the mouth of that same pit, Where we decreed to bury Bassianus, Do this and purchase us thy lasting friends. Oh Tamora was ever heard the like, This is the pit, and this the Elder tree, Look Sirs if you can find the huntsman out, That should have murdered Bassianus here. My gracious Lord here is the bag of gold. Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody kind, Have here bereft my brother of his life: Sirs drag them from the pit unto the prison, There let them bide until we have devised, Some never hard of torturing pain for them. What are they in this pit, Oh wondrous thing! How easily murder is discovered. High Emperor, upon my feeble knee, I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sons, Accursed, if the faults be proud in them. If it be proud, you see it is apparent, Who found this letter, Tamora was it you? Andronicus himself did take it up. I did my Lord, yet let me be their bail, For by my Father's reverent tomb I vow, They shall be ready at your highness will, To answer their suspicion with their lives. Thou shalt not bail them, see thou follow me. Some bring the murdered body, some the murderers, Let them not speak a word the guilt is plain, For by my soul, were there worse end than death, That end upon them should be executed.
seed 43: T37 · seed 44: T36 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Nor I no strength to clime without thy help. Thy hand once more, I will not loose againe, Till thou art here a loft or I belowe: Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee. Along with me, Ile see what hole is here. And what he is that now is leapt into it. Say who art thou that lately didst descend, Into this gaping hollow of the earth. The vhappie sonnes of old Andronicus, Brought hither in a most vnluckie houre, To finde thy brother Bassianus dead. My brother dead, I know thou dot but iest, He and his Ladie both are at the lodge, Vpon the north side of this plesant chase, Tis not an houre since I left them there. VVe know not where you left them all a liue, But out alas, here haue we found him dead. VVhere is my Lord the King? Here Tamora, though gride with killing griefe. VVhere is thy brother Bassianus? Now to the bottome dost thou search my wound, Poore Bassianus here lies murthered. Then all too late I bing this fatall writ. The complot of this timelesse Tragedie, And wonder greatly that mans face can fold, In pleasing smiles such murderous tyrranie. And if wee misse to meete him handsomelie, Sweet huntsman, Bassianus tis we meane, Doe thou so much as dig the graue for him, Thou knowst our meaning looke for thy reward, Among the Nettls at the Elder tree, Which ouer shades the mouth of that same pit, Where we decreed to burie Bassianus, Doe this and purchase vs thy lasting friends. Oh Tamora was euer heard the like, This is the pit, and this the Elder tree, Looke Sirs if you can fide the huntsman out, That should haue murthered Bassianus here. My gratious Lord here is the bag of gold. Two of thy whelps, fell urs of bloody kinde, Haue here bereft my brother of his life: Sirs drag them from the pit vnto the prison, There let them bide vntill we haue deuisd, Some neuer hard of tortering paine for them. VVhat are they in this pit, Oh wondrous thing! How easily murder is discouered. High Emperour, vpon my feeble knee, I beg this boone, with teares not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sonnes, Accursed, if the faults be proud in them. If it be proude, you see it is apparant, Who found this letter, Tamora was it you? Andronicus himselfe did take it vp. I did my Lord, yet let me be their baile, For by my Fathers reuerent toombe I vowe, They shall be ready at your highnes will, To answere their suspition with their liues. Thou shalt not baile them, see thou follow me. Some bring the murthered body, some the murtherers, Let them not speake a word the guilt is plaine, For by my soule, were there worse end than death, That end vpon them should be executed.