Heywood, Thomas · published 1607 · first performed or written 1603 [Feb 12-Mar 6, payment] (Annals) tragedy · Worcester's Men T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil typicality 0.83 · 476 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
I know it master Wendol, Go, go, to bed, lest you complain like me, Wife, prithee wife into my bedchamber, The night is raw, and cold, and rheumatic, Leave me my gown and light, I'll walk away my fit. Sweet sir good night. myself good night. Shall I attend you husband? No, gentle wife thou'lt catch cold in thy head, Prithee begone sweet, I'll make haste to bed. No sleep will fasten on mine eyes you know Until you come. Sweet Nan I prithee go, I have bethought me, get me by degrees The keys of all my doors which I will mould In wax, and take their fair impression, To have by them new keys: This being compassed, At a set hour a letter shallbe brought me, And when they think they may securely play, They are nearest to danger: Nick, I must rely Upon thy trust and faithful secrecy. Build on my faith. To bed then, not to rest, Care lodges in my brain, grief in my breast. You say my Nephew is in great distress, Who brought it to him but his own lewd life: I cannot spare a cross: I must confess He was me brother's son: why Niece, what then? This is no world in which to pity men. I was not borne a beggar, though his extremes Enforce this language from me, I protest No fortune of mine could lead my tongue To this base key. I do beseech you uncle, For the name's sake, for Christianity, Nay for God's sake to pity his distress: He is denied the freedom of the prison, And in the hole is laid with men condemned, Plenty he hath of nothing but of irons, And it remains in you to free him thence. Money I cannot spare: men should take heed, He lost my kindred when he fell to need. Gold is but earth: thou earth enough shalt have When thou hast once took measure of thy grave: You know me master Sandy and my suit. I knew you Lady when the old man lived, I knew you ere your brother sold his land, Than you were mistress Sue tricked up in jewels, Than you sung well, played sweetly on the flute, But now I neither know you nor your suit. You master Roder was my brother's tenant. Rent free he placed you in that wealthy farm Of which you are possessed. True he did, And have I not there dwelled still for his sake: I have some business now, but without doubt They that have hurled him in will help him out. Cold comfort still: what say you chosen Tydy? I say this comes of roisting, swaggering, Call me not cozen: each man for himself, Some men are borne to mirth and some to sorrow. I am no cozen unto them that borrow.
seed 43: T37 · seed 44: T36 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I know it maister Wendol, Go, go, to bed, least you complaine like me, Wife, prethy wife into my bed-chamber, The night is raw, and cold, and rheumatick, Leaue me my gowne and light, Ile walke away my fit. Sweet sir good night. My selfe good night. Shall I attend you husband? No, gentle wife thou catch cold in thy head, Prethy begone sweet, Ile make hast to bed. No sleepe will fasten on mine eies you know Vntill you come. Sweet Nan I prethy go, I haue bethought me, get me by degrees The keyes of all my dores which I will mold In wax, and take their faire impression, To haue by them new keyes: This being compast, At a set houre a letter shalbe brought me, And when they thinke they may securely play, They are nearest to danger: Nick, I must rely Vpon thy trust and faithfull secrecy. Build on my faith. To bed then, not to rest, Care lodges in my braine, griefe in my brest. You say my Nephew is in great distresse, Who brought it to him but his owne lewd life: I cannot spare a crosse: I must confesse He was me brothers sonne: why Niece, what then? This is no world in which to pitty men. I was not borne a begger, though his extreames Enforce this language from me, I protest No fortune of mine could lead my tongue To this base key. I do beseech you vncle, For the names sake, for Christianity, Nay for Gods sake to pitty his distresse: He is denied the freedome of the prison, And in the hole is laid with men condemnd, Plenty he hah of nothing but of yrons, And it remaines in you to free him thence. Money I cannot spare: men should take heed, He lost my kindred when he fell to need. Gold is but earth: thou earth inough shalt haue When thou hast once tooke measure of thy graue: You know me maister Sandy and my sute. I knew you Lady when the old man liud, I knew you ere your brother sold his land, Then you were mistris Sue trickt vp in Iewels, Than you sung well, plaid sweetly on the flute, But now I neither know you nor your sute. You maister Roder was my brothers tennant. Rent free he plast you in that wealthy farme Of which you are possest. True he did, And haue I not there dwelt still for his sake: I haue some busiues now, but without doubt They that haue hurld him in wil helpe him out. Cold comfort stil: what say you chosen Tydy? I say this comes of roysting, swaggring, Call me not Cosen: each man for himselfe, Some men are borne to myrth and some to sorrow. I am no Cosen vnto them that borrow.