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 0.85 · 527 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
My brother Frankford showed too mild a spirit In the revenge of such a loathed crime; Less than he did, no man of spirit could do, I am so far from blaming his revenge That I commend it: had it been my case Their souls at once had from their breasts been freed, Death to such deeds of shame is the due meed. O my mistress, my mistress, my poor mistress. Alas that ever I was born, what shall I do, for my poor mistress. Why, what of her? O Lord sir, she no sooner heard that her brother And his friends were come to see how she did, But she for very shame of her guilty conscience, fell Into a swoon, and we had much ado to Get life into her. Alas that she should bear so hard a fate, Pity it is, repentance comes to late. Is she so weak in body? O sir I can assure you there's no help of life In her, for she will take no sustenance, she hath plainly Starved herself, that now she is as lean As a lath, she ever Looks for the good hour: many Gentlemen and gentlewomen of the country are come to, Comfort her. How fare you mistress Frankford? Sick, sick, oh sick, give me some air I pray you. Tell me, oh tell me, where's master Frankford? Will not he deign to see me ere I die? Yes mistress Frankford, divers gentlemen, Your loving neighbours with that just request, Have moved and told him of your weak estate, Who though with much ado to get belief. Examining of the general circumstance, Seeing your sorrow and your penitence And hearing there withal the great desire You have to see him ere you left the world, He gave to us his faith to follow us, And sure he will be here immediately. You half revived me with those pleasing news, Raise me a little higher in my bed. Blush I not master Frankford? blush I not sir Charles? Can you not read my fault writ in my cheek? Is not my crime there? tell me gentlemen? Alas good mistress, sickness hath not left you Blood in your face enough to make you blush: Then sickness like a friend my fault would hide, Is my husband come? My soul but tarries His arrive and I am fit for heaven. I came to chide you, but my words of hate, Are turned to pity and compassionate grief: I came to rate you, but my brawls you see, Melt into tears, and I must weep by thee. Here's master Frankford now. Good morrow brother, good morrow gentlemen, God that hath laid this cross upon our heads, Might had he pleased have made our cause of meeting On a more fair and a more contented ground, But he that made us, made us to this woe. And is he come, methinks that voice I know How do you woman? Well, master Frankford, well: but shall be better I hope within this hour? will you vouchsafe Out of your grace and your humanity, To take a spotted strumpet by the hand?
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)
My brother Franckford showd too mild a spirit In the reuenge of such a loathed crime; Lese then he did, no man of spyrit could do, I am so far from blaming his reuenge That I commend it: had it bin my case Their soules at once had from their brests bin freed, Death to such deedes of shame is the due meede. O my mistris, my mistris, my poore mistris. Alas that euer I was born, what shall I do, for my poor mistris. Why, what of her? O Lord sir, she no sooner heard that her brother And his friends were come to see how she did, But she for very shame of her guilty conscience, fell Into a swoune, and we had much ado to Get life into her. Alasse that she should beare so hard a fate, Pitty it is, repentance comes to late. Is she so weake in body? O sir I can assure you thers no help of life In her, for she will take no sustenance, she hath plainly Starued her selfe, that now she is as leane As a lath, she euer Lookes for the good hower: many Gentlemen and gentlewomen of the country are come to, Comfort her. How fare you mistris Frankford? Sicke, sicke, oh sicke, giue me some aire I pray you. Tell me, oh tell me, where maister Frankford? Will not he daigne to see me er I dye? Yes mistris Frankford, diuers gentlemen, Your louing neighbors with that iust request, Haue mou'd and told him of your weake estate, Who though with much adoe to get beliefe. Examining of the generall circumstance, Seeing your sorrow and your penitence And hearing there withall the great desire You haue to see him ere you left the world, He gaue to vs his faith to follow vs, And sure he will be here immediatly. You halfe reuiude me with those pleasing newes, Raise me a little higher in my bed. Blush I not maister Frankord? blush I not sir Charles? Can you not read my fault writ in my cheeke? Is not my cryme there? tell me gentlemen? Alasse good mistris, sicknesse hath not left you Bloud in your face enough to make you blush: Then sicknesse like a friend my fault would hide, Is my husband come? My soule but tarries His ariue and I am fit for heauen. I came to chide you, but my wordes of hate, Are turnd to pitty and compassionate griefe: I came to rate you, but my bralles you see, Melt into teares, and I must weepe by thee. Heres maister Frankford now. Good morrow brother, good morrow gentlemen, God that hath laid this crosse vpon our heads, Might had he pleasd haue made our cause of meeting On a more faire and a more contented ground, But he that made vs, made vs to this woe. And is he come, methinks that voyce I know How do you woman? Well, maister Franckford, well: but shall be better I hope within this hower? will you vouchsafe Out of your grace and your humanity, To take a spotted strumpet by the hand?