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 (?) T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil typicality 0.81 · 496 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
Thy hand once more, I will not lose again, Till thou art here aloft, 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 did it descend, Into this gaping hollow of the earth? The unhappy son 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 him there. We know not where you left him all alive, 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 knowst 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 Bassianuss 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 heardof 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 proved in them. If it be proved? 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. Andronicus I will entreat the King, Fear not thy Sons, they shall do well enough.
Peele, George / Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas
Publication year (edition)
1623
First performance / composition (Annals)
1594 [Jan 23 (24); poss. written 1590-1592]
First performance (BritDrama)
1592 [1584-1594]
Company (BritDrama)
Pembroke's Men (?)
Genre (British Drama)
tragedy
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 214 · TCP A11954 · DEEP 5081.27
Edition role
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 944–1008 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 15 of 40 in this edition
Length
496 words · 648 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T40 — Sin, guilt and violent loss within familiescross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.810 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
Thy hand once more, I will not looſe againe, Till thou art heere aloft, or I below, Thou can'ſt not come to me, I come to thee. Along with me, Ile ſee what hole is heere, And what he is that now is leapt into it. Say, who art thou that lately did it deſcend, Into this gaping hollow of the earth? The vnhappie ſonne of old Andronicus, Brought hither in a moſt vnluckie houre, To finde thy brother Baſsianus dead. My brother dead? I know thou doſt but ieſt, He and his Lady both are at the Lodge, Vpon the North-ſide of this pleaſant Chaſe, 'Tis not an houre ſince I left him there. We know not where you left him all aliue, But out alas, heere haue we found him dead. Where is my Lord the King? Heere Tamora, though grieu'd with killing griefe. Where is thy brother Baſsianus? Now to the bottome doſt thou ſearch my wound, Poore Baſsianus heere lies murthered. Then all too late I bring this fatall writ, The complot of this timeleſſe Tragedie, And wonder greatly that mans face can fold, In pleaſing ſmiles ſuch murderous Tyrannie. And if we miſſe to meete him hanſomely, Sweet huntſman, Baſſianus 'tis we meane, Doe thou ſo much as dig the graue for him, Thou know'ſt our meaning, looke for thy reward Among the Nettles at the Elder tree: Which ouer-ſhades the mouth of that ſame pit: Where we decreed to bury Baſſianuss 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 finde the huntſman out, That ſhould haue murthered Baſsianus heere. My gracious Lord heere is the bag of Gold. Two of thy whelpes, fell Curs of bloody kind Haue heere bereft my brother of his life: Sirs drag them from the pit vnto the priſon, There let them bide vntill we haue deuis'd Some neuer heard-of tortering paine for them. What 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 prou'd in them. If it be prou'd? 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 Tombe I vow 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 then death, That end vpon them ſhould be executed. Andronicus I will entreat the King, Feare not thy Sonnes, they ſhall do well enough.