Yarington, Robert · published 1601 · first performed or written 1594 [1594-c.1598] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T52 Prodigals, portions and poor kin · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
Where gold rewardeth, were apparent death Before mine eyes, bold, hearty, visible, I'd wrestle with him for a deadly fall, Or I would lose my guerdon promised: I'd hang my brother for to wear his coat, That all that saw me might have cause to say, There is a heart more firm than Adamant, To practise execrable butcheries. I know that well for were I not assured, Of your performance in this enterprise, I would not ope the closet of my breast, To let you know my close intention, There is a little boy, an urchin lad, That stands between me and the glorious rays, Of my soul-wishing sun of happiness: There is a thicket ten miles from this place, Whose secret ambush, and unused ways, Doth seem to join with our conspiracy, There murder him, and when the deed is done, Cast his dead body in some dirty ditch, And leave him for the Fowls to feed upon: Do this, here is two hundredth marks in gold, To hearten on your resolution: Two hundredth more, after the deed is done, I'll pay you more for satisfaction. 'swounds her's rewards would make one kill himself, To leave his progeny so rich a prize, Were twenty lives engaged for this coin, I'd end them all, to have the money mine, Who would not hazard life, nay soul and all, For such a frank and bounteous paymaster, 'sblood, what labour is't to kill a boy, It is but thus, and then the task is done, It grieves me most, that when this task is past, I have no more to occupy myself, Two hundredth marks to give a paltry stab, I am impatient till I see the brat. That must be done with cunning secrecy, I have devised to send the boy abroad, With this excuse, to have him fostered, In better manners than this place affords, My wife, though loath indeed to part with him, Yet for his good, she will forego her joy, With hope in time to have more firm delights, Which she expects from young Pertillo's life. Call you him Pertillo, faith leave out the T. Why so? Because Perillo will remain, For he shall surely perish if I live: What do you call the father of the child? Why man, he hath no father left alive. Yes such a father, that doth see and know, How we do plot this little infant's woe. Why then his little son is much to blame, That doth not keep his father company. When shall we have delivery of the boy? Tomorrow morning by the break of day, And you must swear you'll see him safely brought, Unto the place that I do send him to. That may we safely, for you mean to send Him to the wood, and there his journey ends: Both soul and limbs shall have a place to rest, In earth the last, the first in Abraham's breast.
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)
Where golde rewardeth, were apparent death Before mine eyes, bolde, hartie, visible, Ide wrastle with him for a deadly fall, Or I would loose my guerdon promised: Ide hang my brother for to weare his coate, That all that sawe me might haue cause to say, There is a hart more firme then Adamant, To practise execrable butcheries. I know that well for were I not assur'd, Of your performance in this enterprice, I would not ope the closet of my brest, To let you know my close intention, There is a little boy, an vrchin lad, That stands betweene me and the glorious rayes, Of my soule-wishing sunne of happinesse: There is a thicket ten miles from this place, Whose secret ambush, and vnvsed wayes, Doth seeme to ioyne with our conspiracie, There murther him, and when the deed is done, Cast his dead body in some durtie ditch, And leaue him for the Fowles to feed vpon: Do this, here is two hundreth markes in golde, To harten on your resolution: Two hundreth more, after the deed is done, Ile pay you more for satisfaction. Swones her's rewards would make one kill himselfe, To leaue his progenie so rich a prize, Were twentie liues engadged for this coine, Ide end them all, to haue the money mine, Who would not hazard life, nay soule and all, For such a franke and bounteous pay-maister, Sblood, what labour is't to kill a boy, It is but thus, and then the taske is done, It grieues me most, that when this taske is past, I haue no more to occupie my selfe, Two hundreth markes to giue a paltrie stab, I am impacient till I see the brat. That must be done with cunning secrecie, I haue deuisde to send the boye abroade, With this excuse, to haue him fostred, In better manners then this place affoords, My wife, though loath indeed to part with him, Yet for his good, she will forgoe her ioy, With hope in time to haue more firme delights, Which she expects from young Pertillos life. Call you him Pertllo, faith leue out the T. Why so? Because Perill will remaine, For he shall surely perish if I liue: What do you call the father of the child? Why man, he hath no father left aliue. Yes such a father, that doth see and know, How we do plot this little infants woe. Why then his little sonne is much to blame, That doth not keepe his father company. When shall we haue deliuerie of the boy? To morrow morning by the breake of day, And you must sweare youle see him safely brought, Vnto the place that I do send him to. That may we safely, for you meane to send Him to the wood, and there his iourney ends: Both soule and limbes shall haue a place to rest, In earth the last, the first in Abrams brest.