Yarington, Robert · published 1601 · first performed or written 1594 [1594-c.1598] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Never the like impiety was done, A mother slain, with terror of the son: Help to repair the damage thou hast made, And seek to call back life with diligence. Call back a happy creature to more woe, That were a sin, good Father let her go: O happy I, if my tormenting smart, Could rend like her's, my grief afflicted heart, Would your hard heart extend unto your wife, To make her live an everdying life. What is she dead? oh then thrice happy she, Whose eyes are bar from our calamity. I all too soon, thou viper, parricide, But for thy tongue thy mother had not dyde, That belching voice, that harsh night-raven sound, Untimely sent thy mother to the ground, Upbraid my fault, I did deceive my brother, Cut out thy tongue, that slew thy careful mother. God love my soul, as I in heart rejoice, To have such power in my death bringing voice, See how in stead of tears and hearty sighs: Of folded arms and sorrow speaking looks, I do behold with cheerful countenance, The lifeless root of my nativity: And thank her hasty soul that thence did go, To keep her from her son and husbands woe. Now father give attention to my tale: I will not dip my grief deciphering tongue, In bitter words of reprehension, Your deeds have thrown more mischiefs on your head Then wit or reason can remove again; For to be brief, Pertillo, oh that name Cannot be named without a hearty sigh, Is murdered, and, What and, this news is good. The men which you suborned to murder him. Better and better, than it cannot out, Unless your love will be so scrupulous, That it will overthrow yourself and me. The best is last, and yet you hinder me, The Duke of Padua hunting in the wood: Accompanied with Lords and gentlemen, 'swounds what of that? what good can come of that? Was made acquainted by the one of them, (That had some little remnant of his life:) With all your practice and conspiracy? I would that remnant had fled quick to hell, To fetch fierce finds to rend their carcases, Rather than bring my life in jeopardy: Is this the best, 'swounds do you mock me son, And make a jest at my calamity Not I good father, I will ease your woe, If you but yield unto my policy. Declare it then, my wits are now to seek, That piece of life hath so confounded me, That I am wholly overcome with fear. The duke hath vowed to prosecute your life, With all the strict severity he can, But I will cross his resolution: And keep you from his fury well enough, I'll wear your habit, I will seem the man, That did suborn the bloody murderers, I will not stir from out this house of woe, But weight the coming of the officers, And answer for you fore the angry Duke, And if need be suffer your punishment.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Neuer the like impietie was done, A mother slaine, with terror of the sonne: Helpe to repaire the damadge thou hast made, And seeke to call back life with dilligence. Call back a happie creature to more woe, That were a sinne, good Father let her go: O happy I, if my tormenting smart, Could rend like her's, my griefe afflicted heart, Would your hard hart extend vnto your wife, To make her liue an euerdying life. What is she dead? oh then thrice happy she, Whose eyes are bard from our callamitie. I all too soone, thou viper, paracide, But for thy tongue thy mother had not dyde, That belching voyce, that harsh night-rauen sound, Vntimely sent thy mother to the ground, Vpbraid my fault, I did deceiue my brother, Cut out thy tongue, that slue thy carefull mother. God loue my soule, as I in heart reioyce, To haue such power in my death bringing voice, See how in steade of teares and hartie sighes: Of foulded armes and sorrow speaking lookes, I doe behold with cheerefull countenance, The liuelesse roote of my natiuitie: And thanke her hasty soule that thence did goe, To keepe her from her sonne and husbandes woe. Now father giue attention to my tale: I will not dip my griefe deciphering tongue, In bitter wordes of reprehension, Your deeds haue throwne more mischiefes on your head Then wit or reason can remoue againe For to be briefe, Pertillo, oh that name Cannot be nam'de without a hearty sgh, Is murthered, and, What and, this newes is good. The men which you suborn'd to murther him. Better and better, then it cannot out, Vnlesse your loue will be so scripulous, That it will ouerthrowe your selfe and me. The best is last, and yet you hinder me, The Duke of Padua hunting in the wood: Accompanied with Lordes and gentlemen, Swones what of that? what good can come of that? Was made acquainted by the one of them, (That had some little remnant of his life:) With all your practice and conspiracie? I would that remnant had fled quicke to hell, To fetch fierce findes to rend their carcases, Rather then bring my life in ieopardie: Is this the best, swones doe you mocke me sonne, And make a est at my calamitie Not I good father, I will ase your woe, If you but yeeld vnto my pollicie. Declare it then, my wits are now to seeke, That peece of life hath so confounded mee, That I am wholly ouercome with feare. The duke hath vow'd to prosecute your life, With all the strict seueritie he can, But I will crosse his resolusion: And keepe you from his furie well enough, Ile weare your habit, I will seeme the man, That did suborne the bloodie murtherers, I will not stir from out this house of woe, But waight the comming of the officers, And answere for you fore the angrie Duke, And if neede be suffer your punishment.