Yarington, Robert · published 1601 · first performed or written 1594 [1594-c.1598] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown T42 English historical figures: a mixed clus typicality 0.82 · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T42: harry, percy, lord, king, god, falstalffe, frances, mowbray, life, mortimer.
That willbe done without all question, For thou hast slain Allenso with the boy: And Rachel doth not wish to overlive, The sad remembrance of her brother's sin, Leave faithful love, to teach them how to die, That they may share their kinsfolks misery. I have bestowed a watery funeral, On the half body of my butchered friend, The head and legs I'll leave in some dark place, I care not if they find them yea or no. Where do you mean to leave the head and legs, In some dark place near to Baynard's castle, But do it closely that you be not seen, For all this while you are without suspect. Take you no thought, i'll have a care of that, Only take heed you have a special care, To make no show of any discontent, Nor use too many words to any one. I will return when I have left my load, Be merry Rachel half the fear is past. But I shall never think myself secure, This deed would trouble any quiet soul, To think thereof, much more to see it done, Such cruel deeds can never long be hid, Although we practise near so cunningly, Let others open what I do conceal, Lo he is my brother, I will cover it, And rather die then have it spoken rife, Lo where she goes, betrayed her brother's life. Why how now Harry what should be the cause, That you are grown so discontent of late: Your sighs do show some inward heaviness, Your heavy looks, your eyes brimful of tears, Bears testimony of some secret grief, Reveal it Harry, I will be thy friend, And help thee to my poor ability. If I am heavy, if I often sigh, And if my eyes bear records of my woe, Condemn me not, for I have mighty cause, More than I will impart to any one. Do you misdoubt me, that you dare not tell That woe to me, that moves your discontent. Good master Cowley you were ever kind, But pardon me, I will not utter it, To any one, for I have passed my word, And therefore urge me not to tell my grief. But those that smother grief too secretly, May waste themselves in silent anguishment, And bring their bodies to so low an ebb, That all the world can never make is flow, Unto the happy height of former health: Then be not injurious to thyself, To waste thy strength in lamentation, But tell thy case, we'll seek some remedy. My cause of grief is now remediless, And all the world can never lessen it, Then since no means can make my sorrows less, Suffer me wail a woe which wants redress. Yet let me bear a part in thy laments, I love thee not so ill, but I will moan, Thy heavy haps, thou shalt not sigh alone.
seed 43: T43 · seed 44: T43 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
That wilbe done without all question, For thou hast slaine Allenso with the boy: And Racell doth not wish to ouerliue, The sad remembrance of her brothers sinne, Leaue faithfull loue, to teach them how to dye, That they may share their kinsfolkes miserie. I haue bestow'd a watrie funerall, On the halfe bodie of my butchered friend, The head and legges Ile leaue in some darke place, I care not if they finde them yea or no. Where do you meane to leaue the head and legs, In some darke place nere to Bainardes castle, But doe it closelie that you be not seene, For all this while you are without suspect. Take you no thought, ile haue a care of that, Onelie take heede you haue a speciall care, To make no shew of any discontent, Nor vse too many words to any one. I will returne when I haue left my loade, Be merrie Rachell halfe the feare is past. But I shall neuer thinke my selfe secure, This deede would trouble any quiet soule, To thinke thereof, much more to see it done, Such cruell deedes can neuer long be hid, Although we practice nere so cunningly, Let others open what I doe conceale, Lo he is my brother, I will couer it, And rather dye then haue it spoken rife, Lo where she goes, betrai'd her brothers life. Why how now Harry what should be the cause, That you are growne so discontent of late: Your sighes do shew some inward heauinesse, Your heauy lookes, your eyes brimfull of teares, Beares testimonie of some secret griefe, Reueale it Harry, I will be thy friend, And helpe thee to my poore habillity. If I am heauie, if I often sigh, And if my eyes beare recordes of my woe, Condemne me not, for I haue mightie cause, More then I will impart to any one. Do you misdoubt me, that you dare not tell That woe to me, that moues your discontent. Good maister Cowley you were euer kinde, But pardon me, I will not vtter it, To any one, for I haue past my worde, And therefore vrge me not to tell my griefe. But those that smother griefe too secretly, May wast themselues in silent anguishment, And bring their bodies to so low an ebbe, That all the world can neuer make is flowe, Vnto the hppy hight of former health: Then be not iniuious to thy selfe, To wast thy strength in lamentation, But tell thy case, wele seeke some remedie. My cause of griefe is now remedilesse, And all the world can neuer lessen it, Then since no meanes can make my sorrowes lesse, Suffer me waile a woe which wants redresse. Yet let me beare a part in thy lamentes, I loue thee not so ill, but I will mone, Thy heauie haps, thou shalt not sigh alone.