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 · 508 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.
Peace tender Sapling, thou art made of tears, And tears will quickly melt thy life away. What dost thou strike at Marcus with knife. At that that I have killed my Lord, a Flies Out on the murderour: thou kill'st my hart, Mine eyes cloyed with view of Tyranny: A deed of death done on the Innocent Becomes not Titus' brother: get thee gone, I see thou art not for my company. Alas (my Lord) I have but killed a fly. But? How: if that Fly had a father and mother? How would he hang his slender gilded wings And buzz lamenting doings in the air, Poor harmless Fly, That with his pretty buzzing melody, Came here to make us merry, And thou hast killed him. Pardon me sir, It was a black illfauoured Fly, Like to the Empress Moor, therefore I killed him. O, o, o, Then pardon me for reprehending thee, For thou hast done a Charitable deed: Give me thy knife, I will insult on him, Flattering myself's, as if it were the Moor, Come hither purposely to poison me. There's for thyself, and that's for Tamira: Ah sirrah, Yet I think we are not brought so low, But that between us, we can kill a Fly, That comes in likeness of a Coal-black Moor. Alas poor man, grief has so wrought on him, He takes false shadows, for true substances. Come, take away: Lavinia, go with me, I'll to thy closet, and go read with thee Sad stories, chanced in the times of old. Come boy, and go with me, thy sight is young, And thou shalt read, when mine begin to dazzle. Help Grandsire help, my Aunt Lavinia, Follows me every where I know not why. Good Uncle Marcus see how swift she comes, Alas sweet Aunt, I know not what you mean. Stand by me Lucius, do not fear thy Aunt. She loves thee boy too well to do thee harm I when my father was in Rome she did. What means my Niece Lavinia by these signs? Fear not Lucius, somewhat doth she mean: See Lucius see, how much she makes of thee: Some whether would she have thee go with her. Ah boy, Cornelia never with more care Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee, Sweet Poetry, and Tully's Orator: Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? My Lord I know not I, nor can I guess, Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her: For I have heard my Grandsire say full oft, Extremity of griefs would make men mad. And I have read that Hecubae of Troy, Ran mad through sorrow, that made me to fear, Although my Lord, I know my noble Aunt, Loves me as dear as ere my mother did, And would not but in fury fright my youth, Which made me down to throw my books, and fly Causeless perhaps, but pardon me sweet Aunt, And Madam, if my Uncle Marcus go, I will most willingly attend your Ladyship.
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)
Peace tender Sapling, thou art made of teares, And teares will quickly melt thy life away. What doeſt thou ſtrike at Marcus with knife. At that that I haue kil'd my Lord, a Flys Out on the murderour: thou kil'ſt my hart, Mine eyes cloi'd with view of Tirranie: A deed of death done on the Innocent Becoms not Titus broher: get thee gone, I ſee thou art not for my company. Alas (my Lord) I haue but kild a flie. But? How: if that Flie had a father and mother? How would he hang his ſlender gilded wings And buz lamenting doings in the ayer, Poore harmeleſſe Fly, That with his pretty buzing melody, Came heere to make vs merry, And thou haſt kil'd him. Pardon me ſir, It was a blacke illfauour'd Fly, Like to the Empreſſe Moore, therefore I kild him. O, o, o, Then pardon me for reprehending thee, For thou haſt done a Charitable deed: Giue me thy knife, I will inſult on him, Flattering my ſelfes, as if it were the Moore, Come hither purpoſely to poyſon me. There's for thy ſelfe, and thats for Tamira: Ah ſirra, Yet I thinke we are not brought ſo low, But that betweene vs, we can kill a Fly, That comes in likeneſſe of a Cole-blacke Moore. Alas poore man, griefe ha's ſo wrought on him, He takes falſe ſhadowes, for true ſubſtances. Come, take away: Lauinia, goe with me, Ile to thy cloſſet, and goe read with thee Sad ſtories, chanced in the times of old. Come boy, and goe with me, thy ſight is young, And thou ſhalt read, when mine begin to dazell. Helpe Grandſier helpe, my Aunt Lauinia, Followes me euery where I know not why. Good Vncle Marcus ſee how ſwift ſhe comes, Alas ſweet Aunt, I know not what you meane. Stand by me Lucius, doe not feare thy Aunt. She loues thee boy too well to doe thee harme I when my father was in Rome ſhe did. What meanes my Neece Lauinia by theſe ſignes? Feare not Lucius, ſomewhat doth ſhe meane: See Lucius ſee, how much ſhe makes of thee: Some whether would ſhe haue thee goe with her. Ah boy, Cornelia neuer with more care Read to her ſonnes, then ſhe hath read to thee, Sweet Poetry, and Tullies Oratour: Canſt thou not geſſe wherefore ſhe plies thee thus? My Lord I know not I, nor can I geſſe, Vnleſſe ſome fit or frenzie do poſſeſſe her: For I haue heard my Grandſier ſay full oft, Extremitie of griefes would make men mad. And I haue read that Hecubae of Troy, Ran mad through ſorrow, that made me to feare, Although my Lord, I know my noble Aunt, Loues me as deare as ere my mother did, And would not but in fury fright my youth, Which made me downe to throw my bookes, and flie Cauſles perhaps, but pardon me ſweet Aunt, And Madam, if my Vncle Marcus goe, I will moſt willingly attend your Ladyſhip.