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 0.82 · 497 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.
Nay come agree, whose hand shall go along For fear they die before their pardon come. My hand shall go. By heaven it shall not go. Sirs strive no more, such withered herbs as these Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. Sweet Father, if I shall be thought thy son, Let me redeem my brothers both from death. And for our father's sake, and mother's care, Now let me show a brother's love to thee. Agree between you, I will spare my hand. Then I'll go fetch an Axe. But I will use the Axe. Come hither Aaron, I'll deceive them both, Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine, If that be called deceit, I will be honest, And never whilst I live deceive men so: But I'll deceive you in another sort, And that you'll say ere halfe an hour pass. Now stay you strife, what shall be, is dispatched: Good Aron give his Majesty me hand, Tell him, it was a hand that warded him From thousand dangers: bid him bury it: More hath it merited: That let it have. As for for my sons, say I account of them, As jewels purchased at an easy price, And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. I go Andronicus, and for thy hand, Look by and by to have thy sons with thee: Their heads I mean: Oh how this villainy Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it. Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace, Aron will have his soul black like his face. O here I lift this one hand up to heaven, And bow this feeble ruin to the earth, If any power pities wretched tears, To that I call: what wilt thou kneel with me? Do then dear heart, for heaven shall hear our prayers, Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, And stain the Sun with fog as sometime clouds, When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. Oh brother speak with possibilities, And do not break into these deep extremes. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? Then be my passions bottomless with them. But yet let reason govern thy lament. If there were reason for these miseries, Then into limits could I bind my woes: When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'er flow? If the winds rage, doth not the Sea wax mad, Threatening the welkin with his big-swollen face? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? I am the Sea. Hark how her sighs do flow: She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: Then must my Sea be moved with her sighs, Then must my earth with her continual tears, Become a deluge: overflowed and drowned: For why, my bowels cannot hide her woes, But like a drunkard must I vomit them: Then give me leave, for losers will have leave, To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues,
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 1247–1307 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 20 of 40 in this edition
Length
497 words · 636 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T40 — Sin, guilt and violent loss within familiescross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.820 (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)
Nay come agree, whoſe hand ſhall goe along For feare they die before their pardon come. My hand ſhall goe. By heauen it ſhall not goe. Sirs ſtriue no more, ſuch withered hearbs as theſe Are meete for plucking vp, and therefore mine. Sweet Father, if I ſhall be thought thy ſonne, Let me redeeme my brothers both from death. And for our fathers ſake, and mothers care, Now let me ſhew a brothers loue to thee. Agree betweene you, I will ſpare my hand. Then Ile goe fetch an Axe. But I will vſe the Axe. Come hither Aaron, Ile deceiue them both, Lend me thy hand, and I will giue thee mine, If that be cal'd deceit, I will be honeſt, And neuer whil'ſt I liue deceiue men ſo: But Ile deceiue you in another ſort, And that you'l ſay ere halfe an houre paſſe. Now ſtay you ſtrife, what ſhall be, is diſpatcht: Good Aron giue his Maieſtie me hand, Tell him, it was a hand that warded him From thouſand dangers: bid him bury it: More hath it merited: That let it haue. As for for my ſonnes, ſay I account of them, As iewels purchaſt at an eaſie price, And yet deere too, becauſe I bought mine owne. I goe Andronicus, and for thy hand, Looke by and by to haue thy ſonnes with thee: Their heads I meane: Oh how this villany Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it. Let fooles doe good, and faire men call for grace, Aron will haue his ſoule blacke like his face. O heere I lift this one hand vp to heauen, And bow this feeble ruine to the earth, If any power pitties wretched teares, To that I call: what wilt thou kneele with me? Doe then deare heart, for heauen ſhall heare our prayers, Or with our ſighs weele breath the welkin dimme, And ſtaine the Sun with fogge as ſomtime cloudes, When they do hug him in their melting boſomes. Oh brother ſpeake with poſſibilities, And do not breake into theſe deepe extreames. Is not my ſorrow deepe, hauing no bottome? Then be my paſſions bottomleſſe with them. But yet let reaſon gouerne thy lament. If there were reaſon for theſe miſeries, Then into limits could I binde my woes: When heauen doth weepe, doth not the earth ore flow? If the windes rage, doth not the Sea wax mad, Threatning the welkin with his big-ſwolne face? And wilt thou haue a reaſon for this coile? I am the Sea. Harke how her ſighes doe flow: Shee is the weeping welkin, I the earth: Then muſt my Sea be moued with her ſighes, Then muſt my earth with her continuall teares, Become a deluge: ouerflow'd and drown'd: For why, my bowels cannot hide her woes, But like a drunkard muſt I vomit them: Then giue me leaue, for looſers will haue leaue, To eaſe their ſtomackes with their bitter tongues,