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 · 502 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.
What canst thou say all this, and never blush? I, like a black Dog, as the saying is. Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds? I, that I had not done a thousand more: Even now I curse the day, and yet I think Few come within few compass of my curse, Wherein I did not some Notorious ill, As kill a man, or else device his death, Ravish a Maid, or plot the way to do it, Accuse some Innocent, and forswear myself, Set deadly Enmity between two Friends, Make poor men's cattle break their necks, Set fire on Barnes and Haystackes in the night, And bid the Owners quench them with the tears: Oft have I digged up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear Friends door, Even when their sorrows almost was forgot, And on their skins, as on the Bark of Trees, Have with my knife carved in Roman Letters, Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead. Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things As willingly, as one would kill a Fly, And nothing grieves me heartily indeed, But that I cannot do ten thousand more. Bring down the devil, for he must not die So sweet a death as hanging presently. If there be devils, would I were a devil, To live and burn in everlasting fire, So I might have your company in hell, But to torment you with my bitter tongue. Sirs stop his mouth, & let him speak no more. My Lord, there is a Messenger from Rome Desires to be admitted to your presence. Let him come near. Welcome Emillius, what the news from Rome? Lord Lucius, and you Princes of the Goths, The Roman Emperor greets you all by me, And for he understands you are in Arms, He craves a parley at your Father's house Willing you to demand your Hostages, And they shall be immediately delivered. What says our General? Emillius, let the Emperor give his pledges Unto my Father, and my Uncle Marcus, And we will come I march away. Thus in this strange and sad Habilliament, I will encounter with Andronicus, And say, I am Revenge sent from below, To join with him and right his heinous wrongs: Knock at his study where they say he keeps, To ruminate strange plots of dire Revenge, Tell him Revenge is come to join with him, And work confusion on his Enemies. Who doth mollest my Contemplation? Is it your trick to make me open the door, That so my sad decrees may fly away, And all my study be, to no effect? You are deceived, for what I mean to do, See here in bloody lines I have set down: And what is written shall be executed. Titus, I am come to talk with thee, No not a word: how can I grace my talk, Wanting a hand to give it action, Thou hast the odds of me, therefore no more.
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)
What canſt thou ſay all this, and neuer bluſh? I, like a blacke Dogge, as the ſaying is. Art thou not ſorry for theſe hainous deedes? I, that I had not done a thouſand more: Euen now I curſe the day, and yet I thinke Few come within few compaſſe of my curſe, Wherein I did not ſome Notorious ill, As kill a man, or elſe deuiſe his death, Rauiſh a Maid, or plot the way to do it, Accuſe ſome Innocent, and forſweare my ſelfe, Set deadly Enmity betweene two Friends, Make poore mens Cattell breake their neckes, Set fire on Barnes and Hayſtackes in the night, And bid the Owners quench them with the teares: Oft haue I dig'd vp dead men from their graues, And ſet them vpright at their deere Friends doore, Euen when their ſorrowes almoſt was forgot, And on their skinnes, as on the Barke of Trees, Haue with my knife carued in Romaine Letters, Let not your ſorrow die, though I am dead. Tut, I haue done a thouſand dreadfull things As willingly, as one would kill a Fly, And nothing greeues me hartily indeede, But that I cannot doe ten thouſand more. Bring downe the diuell, for he muſt not die So ſweet a death as hanging preſently. If there be diuels, would I were a deuill, To liue and burne in euerlaſting fire, So I might haue your company in hell, But to torment you with my bitter tongue. Sirs ſtop his mouth, & let him ſpeake no more. My Lord, there is a Meſſenger from Rome Deſires to be admitted to your preſence. Let him come neere. Welcome Emillius, what the newes from Rome? Lord Lucius, and you Princes of the Gothes, The Romaine Emperour greetes you all by me, And for he vnderſtands you are in Armes, He craues a parly at your Fathers houſe Willing you to demand your Hoſtages, And they ſhall be immediately deliuered. What ſaies our Generall? Emillius, let the Emperour giue his pledges Vnto my Father, and my Vncle Marcus, And we will come I march away. Thus in this ſtrange and ſad Habilliament, I will encounter with Andronicus, And ſay, I am Reuenge ſent from below, To ioyne with him and right his hainous wrongs: Knocke at his ſtudy where they ſay he keepes, To ruminate ſtrange plots of dire Reuenge, Tell him Reuenge is come to ioyne with him, And worke confuſion on his Enemies. Who doth molleſt my Contemplation? Is it your tricke to make me ope the dore, That ſo my ſad decrees may flie away, And all my ſtudie be, to no effect? You are deceiu'd, for what I meane to do, See heere in bloody lines I haue ſet downe: And what is written ſhall be executed. Titus, I am come to talke with thee, No not a word: how can I grace my talke, Wanting a hand to giue it action, Thou haſt the ods of me, therefore no more.