Peele, George / Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1594 [Jan 23 (24); poss. written 1590-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Pembroke's Men (?) unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 481 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
So Bassianus, you have played your prize, God give you joy sir of your Gallant Bride. And you of yours my Lord: I say no more, Nor wish no less, and so I take my leave. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have power, Thou and thy Faction shall repent this Rape. Rape call you it my Lord, to cease my own, My true betrothed Love, and now my wife? But let the laws of Rome determine all, Mean while I am possessed of that is mine. 'Tis good sir: you are very short with us, But if we live, we'll be as sharp with you. My Lord, what I have done as best I may, Answer I must, and shall do with my life, Only thus much I give your Grace to know, By all the duties that I own to Rome, This Noble Gentleman Lord Titus here, Is in opinion and in honour wronged, That in the rescue of Lavinia, With his own hand did slay his youngest Son, In zeal to you, and highly moved to wrath. To be controlled in that he frankly gave: Receive him then to favour Saturnine, That hath expre'st himself in all his deeds, A Father and a friend to thee, and Rome. Prince Bassianus leave to plead my Deeds, 'Tis thou, and those, that have dishonoured me, Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge, How I have loved and Honoured Saturnine. My worthy Lord if ever Tamora, Were gracious in those Princely eyes of thine, Then hear me speak indifferently for all: And at my suit (sweet) pardon what is past. What Madam, be dishonoured openly, And basely put it up without revenge? Not so my Lord, The Gods of Rome forfend, I should be Author to dishonour you. But on mine honour dare, I undertake For good Lord Titus innocence in all: Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs: Then at my suit look graciously on him, Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart. My Lord, be ruled by me, be won at last, Dissemble all your griefs and discontents, You are but newly planted in your Throne, Lest then the people, and Patricians too, Upon a just survey take Titus part, And so supplant us for ingratitude, Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin. Yield at entreats, and then let me alone: I'll find a day to massacre them all, And race their faction, and their family, The cruel Father, and his traitorous sons, To whom I sued for my dear son's life. And make them know what 'tis to let a Queen. Kneel in the streets, and beg for grace in vain. Come, come, sweet Emperor, (come Andronicus) Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart, That dies in tempest of thy angry frown.
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
So Baſsianus, you haue plaid your prize, God giue you ioy ſir of your Gallant Bride. And you of yours my Lord: I ſay no more, Nor wiſh no leſſe, and ſo I take my leaue. Traytor, if Rome haue law, or we haue power, Thou and thy Faction ſhall repent this Rape. Rape call you it my Lord, to ceaſe my owne, My true betrothed Loue, and now my wife? But let the lawes of Rome determine all, Meane while I am poſſeſt of that is mine. 'Tis good ſir: you are very ſhort with vs, But if we liue, weele be as ſharpe with you. My Lord, what I haue done as beſt I may, Anſwere I muſt, and ſhall do with my life, Onely thus much I giue your Grace to know, By all the duties that I owe to Rome, This Noble Gentleman Lord Titus heere, Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd, That in the reſcue of Lauinia, With his owne hand did ſlay his youngeſt Son, In zeale to you, and highly mou'd to wrath. To be controul'd in that he frankly gaue: Receiue him then to fauour Saturnine, That hath expre'ſt himſelfe in all his deeds, A Father and a friend to thee, and Rome. Prince Baſsianus leaue to plead my Deeds, 'Tis thou, and thoſe, that haue diſhonoured me, Rome and the righteous heauens be my iudge, How I haue lou'd and Honour'd Saturnine. My worthy Lord if euer Tamora, Were gracious in thoſe Princely eyes of thine, Then heare me ſpeake indifferently for all: And at my ſute (ſweet) pardon what is paſt. What Madam, be diſhonoured openly, And baſely put it vp without reuenge? Not ſo my Lord, The Gods of Rome for-fend, I ſhould be Authour to diſhonour you. But on mine honour dare, I vndertake For good Lord Titus innocence in all: Whoſe fury not diſſembled ſpeakes his griefes: Then at my ſute looke graciouſly on him, Looſe not ſo noble a friend on vaine ſuppoſe, Nor with ſowre lookes afflict his gentle heart. My Lord, be rul'd by me, be wonne at laſt, Diſſemble all your griefes and diſcontents, You are but newly planted in your Throne, Leaſt then the people, and Patricians too, Vpon a iuſt ſuruey take Titus part, And ſo ſupplant vs for ingratitude, Which Rome reputes to be a hainous ſinne. Yeeld at intreats, and then let me alone: Ile finde a day to maſſacre them all, And race their faction, and their familie, The cruell Father, and his trayt'rous ſonnes, To whom I ſued for my deare ſonnes life. And make them know what 'tis to let a Queene. Kneele in the ſtreetes, and beg for grace in vaine. Come, come, ſweet Emperour, (come Andronicus) Take vp this good old man, and cheere the heart, That dies in tempeſt of thy angry frowne.