Wilson, Robert / Drayton, Michael / Munday, Anthony / Hathaway, Richard · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [Oct 16, payment] (Annals) history · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.69 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
A murder closely done and in my ground? Search carefully, if anywhere it were, This obscure thicket is the likeliest place. Sir I have found the body stiff with cold, And mangled cruelly with many wounds. Look if thou knowest him, turn his body up, A lack it is my son, my son and heir, Whom two years since, I sent to Ireland, To practise there the discipline of war, And coming home (for so he wrote to me) Some savage heart, some bloody devilish hand, Either in hate, or thirsting for his coin, Hath here sluiced out his blood, unhappy hour, Accursed place, but most inconstant fate, That hadst reserved him from the bullets fire, And suffered him to scape the wood-kern fury, Didst here ordain the treasure of his life, (Even here within the arms of tender peace, And where security gate greatest hope) To be consumed by treasons wasteful hand? And what is most afflicting to my soul, That this his death and murder should be wrought, Without the knowledge by whose means 'twas done, Not so sir, I have found the authors of it, See where they sit, and in their bloody fists, The fatal instruments of death and sin. Just judgement of that power, whose gracious eye, Loathing the sight of such a heinous fact, Dazzled their senses with benumbing-sleep, Till their unhallowed treachery were known: Awake ye monsters, murderers awake, Tremble for horror, blush you cannot choose, Beholding this inhuman deed of yours. What mean you sir to trouble weary souls, And interrupt us of our quiet sleep? Oh devilish! can you boast unto yourselves Of quiet sleep, having within your hearts The guilt of murder waking, that with cries Deafs the loud thunder, and solicits heaven, With more than Mandrake's shrieks for your offence? What murder? you upbraid us wrongfully. Can you deny the fact? see you not here, The body of my son by you misdone? Look on his wounds, look on his purple hue: Do we not find you where the deed was done? Were not your knives fast closed in your hands? Is not this cloth an argument beside, Thus stained and spotted with his innocent blood? These speaking characters, were nothing else To plead against ye, would convict you both. Bring them away, bereavers of my joy, At Hartford where the Sises now are kept, Their lives shall answer for my sons lost life. As we are innocent, so may we speed. As I am wronged, so may the law proceed. What intricate confusion have we here? Not two hours since we apprehended one, In habit Irish, but in speech, not so: And now you bring another, that in speech Is altogether Irish, but in habit Seems to be English: yea and more than so, The servant of that heretic Lord Cobham. Fait me be no servant of the lord Cobham's, Me be Mack Chane of Ulster. Otherwise called Harpoole of Kent, go to sit, You cannot blind us with your broken Irish.
Wilson, Robert / Drayton, Michael / Munday, Anthony / Hathaway, Richard
Publication year (edition)
1600
First performance / composition (Annals)
1599 [Oct 16, payment]
First performance (BritDrama)
1599 [Nov]
Company (BritDrama)
Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men
Genre (British Drama)
history
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 376 · TCP A08469 · DEEP 291
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 1898–1963 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 39 of 42 in this edition
Length
504 words · 658 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.689 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
A murder closely done and in my ground? Search carefully, if any where it were, This obscure thicket is the likeliest place. Sir I haue found the body stiffe with cold, And mangled cruelly with many wounds. Looke if thou knowest him, turne his body vp, A lacke it is my son, my sonne and heire, Whom two yeares since, I sent to Ireland, To practise there the discipline of warre, And comming home (for so he wrote to me) Some sauage hart, some bloudy diuellish hand, Either in hate, or thirsting for his coyne, Hath here slucde out his bloud, vnhappy houre, Accursed place, but most inconstant fate, That hadst reserude him from the bullets fire, And suffered him to scape the wood-karnes fury, Didst here ordaine the treasure of his life, (Euen here within the armes of tender peace, And where security gate greatest hope) To be consumde by treasons wastefull hand? And what is most afflicting to my soule, That this his death and murther should be wrought, Wihout the nowledge by whose meanes twas done, Not so sir, I haue found the authors of it, See where they sit, and in their bloudy fistes, The fatall instruments of death and sinne. Iust iudgement of that power, whose gracious eie, Loathing the sight of such a hainous fact, Dazeled their senses with benumming-sleepe, Till their vnhallowed treachery were knowne: Awake ye monsters, murderers awake, Tremble for horror, blush you cannot chuse, Beholding this inhumane deed of yours. What meane you sir to trouble weary soules, And interrupt vs of our quiet sleepe? Oh diuellish! can you boast vnto your selues Of quiet sleepe, hauing within your hearts The guilt of murder waking, that with cries Deafes the lowd thunder, and sollicites heauen, With moe than Mandrakes shreekes for your offence? What murder? you vpbraid vs wrongfully. Can you deny the fact? see you not heere, The body of my sonne by you mis-done? Looke on his wounds, looke on his purple hew: Do we not finde you where the deede was done? Were not your kniues fast closed in your hands? Is not this cloth an argument beside, Thus staind and spotted with his innocent blood? These speaking characters, were nothing else To pleade against ye, would conuict you both. Bring them away, bereauers of my ioy, At Hartford where the Sises now are kept, Their liues shall answere for my sonnes lost life. As we are innocent, so may we speede. As I am wrongd, so may the law proceede. What intricate confusion haue we heere? Not two houres since we apprehended one, In habite Irish, but in speech, not so: And now you bring another, that in speech Is altogether Irish, but in habite Seemes to be English: yea and more than so, The seruant of that heretike Lord Cobham. Fait me be no seruant of the lord Cobhams, Me be Mack Chane of Vlster. Otherwise calld Harpoole of Kent, go to sit, You cannot blinde vs with your broken Irish.