Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) T26 Devils, hell and fiends typicality 0.79 · 472 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T26: devil, hell, devils, sure, soul, fiend, sr, wife, lord, men.
Stay you that bear the corpse and set it down. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds. Villain set down the corpse, or by S. Paul, I'll make a corpse of him that disobeies. My Lord, stand back and let the coffin pass, Vanmanerd dog, stand thou when I command, Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, Or by Saint Paul I'll strike thee to my foot, And spurn upon thee beggar for thy boldness. What do you tremble, are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. Avaunt thou dreadful minister of hell, Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, His soul thou canst not have, therefore be gone. Sweet Saint, for Charity be not so cursed. Fowl Devil, for God's sake hence & trouble us not, For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell: Filled it with cursing cries and deep exclaims. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. Oh gentlemen see, see dead Henry's wounds, Open their congealed mouths and bleed a fresh, Blush blush thou lump of foul deformity, For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood, From cold and empty veins where no blood dwells. Thy deed inhuman and unnatural, Provokes this deluge most unnatural. Oh God which this blood madest, revenge his death, Oh earth which this blood drinkst, revenge his death: Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead, Or earth gape open wide and eat him quick. As thou dost swallow up this good King's blood, Which his hell-governd arm hath butchered. Lady you know no rules of charity▪ Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. Villain thou knowest no law of God nor man: No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast. Oh wonderful when Devils tell the troth. More wonderful when Angels are so angry vouchsafe divine perfection of a woman, Of these supposed evils to give me leave, By circumstance but 〈◊〉 acquit myself. Vouchsafe defused infection of a man, For these known evils but to give me leave, By circumstance to curse thy cursed self. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patiented leisure to excuse myself. Fouler than heart can think thee thou canst make No excuse currant but to hang thyself. By such despair I should accuse myself. And by despairing shouldst thou stand excused, For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others. Say that I slew them not. Why then they are not dead, But dead they are, and devilish slave by thee. I did not kill your husband. Why then he is alive. Nay, he is dead, and slain by Edward's hand.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 193–254 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 4 of 54 in this edition
Length
472 words · 625 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T26 — Devils, hell and fiendscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.793 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T23 · seed 44: T23 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Stay you that beare the corse and set it dowe. What blacke magitian coniures vp this fiend, To stop deuoted charitable deedes. Villaine set downe the corse, or by S. Paule, Ile make a corse of him that disobeies. My Lord, stand backe and let the coin pase, Vanmanerd dog, stand thou when I command, Aduance thy halbert higher than my brest, Or by Saint Paul Ile strike thee to my oote, And spurne vpon thee begger for thy boldnes. What doe you tremble, are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortall, And mortall eies cannot endure the diuell. Auaunt thou dreadfull minister of hell, Thou hadst but power ouer his mortall body, His soule thou canst not haue, therefore be gone. Sweete Saint, for Charity be not so curst. Foule Diuell, for Gods sake hence & trouble vs not, For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell: Fild it with cursing cries and deepe exclaimes. If thou delight to view thy hainous deedes, Behold this patterne of thy butcheries. Oh gentlemen see, see dead Henries woundes, Open their congeald mouthes and bleede a fresh, Blush blush thou lumpe of foule deformity, For tis thy presence that exhales this bloud, From cold and empty veines where no bloud dwells. Thy deed inhumane and vnnaturall, Prouokes this deluge most vnnaturall. Oh God which this bloud madest, reuenge his death, Oh earth which this bloud drinkst, reuenge his death: Ether heauen with lightning strike the murtherer dead, Or earth gape open wide and eate him quicke. As thou doest swallow vp this good Kings bloud, Which his hell-gouernd arme hath butchered. Lady you know no rules of charity▪ Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. Villaine thou knowest no law of God nor man: No beast so fierce but knowes some touch of pitty. But I know none, and therefore am no beast. Oh wonderfull when Diuels tell the troth. More wonderfull when Angels are so angy Vousafe deuine perfection of a woman, Of these supposed euils to giue me leaue, By circumstance but acquite my selfe. Vouchsafe defused infection of a man, For these knowne euils but to giue me leaue, By circumstance to curse thy cursed selfe. Fairer then tongue can name thee, let me haue Some patient leisure to excuse my selfe. Fouler then heart can thinke thee thou canst make No excuse currant but to hang thy selfe. By such despaire I should accuse my selfe. And by despairing shouldst thou stand excusd, For doing worthy vengeance on thy selfe, Which didst vnworthy slaughter vpon others. Say that I slew them not. Why then they are not dead, But dead they are, and diuelish slaue by thee. I did not kill your husband. Why then he is aliue. Nay, he is dead, and slaine by Edwards hand.