Yarington, Robert · published 1601 · first performed or written 1594 [1594-c.1598] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
What doth the boy know whereabouts you dwell? I that torments me worse than pangs of hell, He must be slain to, else he'll utter all. Hark brother, hark, methinks I hear on call. Go down and see, pray God my man keep close: If he prove long-tongued then my days are done, The boy must die, there is no help at all: For on his life, my very life depends, Besides I cannot compass what I would, Unless the boy be quickly made away, This that abridged his hapless masters days, Shall leave such sound memorials one his head, That he shall quite forget who did him harm, Or trained his master to this bloody feast: Why how now Rachel? who did call below? A maid that came to have a penny loaf. I would a penny loaf cost me a pound, Provided Beech's boy had eat his last. Perchance the boy doth not remember you. It may be so, but i'll remember him. And send him quickly with a bloody scroll, To greet his master in another world. I'll go to Beeches on a feigned excuse, To see if he will ask me for his master. No, get you up, you shall not stir abroad, And when I call, come quickly to the door. Brother, or that, or any thing beside, To please your mind, or ease your misery. I am knee deep, i'll wade up to the waist, To end my heart of fear, and to attain, The hoped end of my intention? But I may see, if I have eyes to see, And if my understanding be not blind, How many dangers do already weight, Upon my steps of bold security, Williams is fled, perchance to utter all, That's but perchance, nay rather flatly no, But should he tell, I can but die a death, Should he conceal, the boy would utter it, The boy must die, there is no remedy I wonder that my master stays so long, He had not wont to be abroad so late Yonder comes one, I think that same is he. I see the boy sits at his masters door, Or now, or never, Merry stir thyself, And rid thy heart from fear and jealousy: Thomas Winchester go quickly to your shop, What sit you still your master is at hand. Oh God I think there's thieves in Beech's shop. What cruel hand hath done so foul a deed, Thus to bemangle a distressed youth: Without all pity or a due remorse, See how the hammer sticketh in his head, Wherewith this honest youth is done to death, Speak honest Thomas, if any speech remain, What cruel hand hath done this villainy: He cannot speak, his senses are bereft, Hoe neighbour Loney, pray come down with speed, Your tenant Beech's man is murdered. What would you have some Mustard? Your tenant Beech's man, is murdered. Whose smothered, I think you lack your wit, What neighbour? what make you here so late?
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 doth the boy know wherabouts you dwel? I that tormentes me worse then panges of hell, He must be slaine to, else hele vtter all. Harke brother, hake, me thinkes I here on call. Go downe and see, pray God my man keep close: If he proue long-tongd then my daies are done, The boy must die, there is no helpe at all: For on his life, my verie life dependes, Besides I cannot compasse what I would, Vnlesse the boy be quicklie made away, This that abridgde his haplesse maisters daies, Shall leaue such sound memorials one his head, That he shall quite forget who did him harme, Or train'd his maister to this bloodie feast: Why how now Rachell? who did call below? A maide that came to haue a pennie loafe. I would a pennie loafe cost me a pound, Prouided Beeches boy had eate his last. Perchaunce the boy doth not remember you. It maie be so, but ile remember him. And send him quicklie with a bloodie scrowle, To greete his maister in another world. Ile goe to Beeches on a faind excuse, To see if he will aske me for his maister. No, get you vp, you shall not stir abroade, And when I call, come quicklie to the dore. Brother, or that, or any thing beside, To please your minde, or ease your miserie. I am knee deepe, ile wade vp to the wast, To end my hart of feare, and to attaine, The hoped end of my intention? But I maie see, if I haue eyes to see, And if my vnderstanding be not blind, How manie dangers do alreadie waight, Vpon my steppes of bold securitie, Williams is fled, perchaunce to vtter all, Thats but perchance, naie rather flatlie no, But should he tell, I can but die a death, Should he conceale, the boy would vtter it, The boy must de, there is no remedie I wonder that my maister staies so long, He had not wont to be abroade so late Yonder comes one, I thinke that same is he. I see the boye sits at his maisters door, Or now, or neuer, Merry stir thy selfe, And rid thy hart from feare and iealousie: Thomas Winchester go quicklie to your shoppe, What sit you still your maister is at hand. Oh God I thinke theres theeues in Beeches shop. What cruell hand hath done so foule a dede, Thus to be mangle a distressed youth: Without all pittie or a due remorse, See how the hammer sticketh in his head, Wherewith this honest youth is done to death, Speake honest Thomas, if any speach remaine, What cruell hand hath done this villanie: He cannot speake, his sences are bereft, Hoe neighbour Loney, pray come downe with speede, Your tennant Beeches man is murthered. What would you haue some Mustard? Your tennant Beeches man, is murthered. Whose smothered, I thinke you lack your wit, What neighbor? what make you here so late?