Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) comedy · King's Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.89 · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
To be your comfortress, and to preserve you. Alas, I am passed already! 'pray you, thank him, For his good care, and promptness, but for that, 'Tis a vain labour, e'en to fight, 'gainst heaven; Applying fire to a stone: (vh, vh, vh, vh.) Making a dead leaf grow again. I take His wishes gently, though; and, you may tell him, What I have done for him: marry; my state is hopeless! Will him, to pray for me; and t'use his fortune, With reverence, when he comes to't. Do you hear, sir? Go to him, with your wife. Heart of my father! Wilt thou persist thus? come, I pray thee, come. Thou seest 'tis nothing. CELIA. By this hand, I shall grow violent. Come, do't, I say. Sir, kill me, rather: I will take down poison, Eat burning coals, do any thing— Be damned. (Heart) I will drag thee hence, home, by the hair; Cry thee a strumpet, through the streets; rip up Thy mouth, unto thine ears; and slit thy nose, Like a raw rotchet— Do not tempt me, come. Yield, I am loath— (Death) I will buy some slave, Whom I will kill, and bind thee to him, alive; And at my window, hang you forth: devising Some monstrous crime, which I, in capital letters, Will eat into thy flesh, with aquafortis, And burning corrosives, on this stubborn breast. Now, by the blood, thou hast incensed, I'll do't. Sir, what you please, you may, I am your martyr. Be not thus obstinate. I ha' not deserved it: Think, who it is, entreats you. Pray thee, sweet; (Good faith) thou shalt have jewels, gowns, attires, What thou wilt think, and ask. Do, but, go kiss him. Or touch him, but. For my sake. At my suit. This once. No? not? I shall remember this. Will you disgrace me, thus? do you thirst my undoing? Nay, gentle lady, be advised. No, no. She has watched her time. God's precious, this is scurvy; 'Tis very scurvy: and you are— Nay, good, sir. An errant locust, by heaven, a locust. Whore, Crocodile, that hast thy thy tears prepared, Expecting, how thou'lt bid 'em flow. Nay, Pray you, sir, She will consider. Would my life would serve To satisfy. ('Sdeath) if she would but speak to him, And save my reputation, 'twere somewhat; But, spitefully to affect my utter ruin. ay, now you have put your fortune, in her hands. Why i'faith, it is her modesty, I must quit her; If you were absent, she would be more coming; I know it: and dare undertake for her. What woman can, before her husband? 'pray you, Let us depart, and leave her, here. Sweet CELIA, Thou mayst redeem all, yet; I'll say no more: If not, esteem yourself as lost. Nay, stay there. O god, and his good angels! whether, whether. Is shame fled human breasts? that with such ease, Men dare put off your honours, and their own? Is that, which ever was a cause of life, Now placed beneath the basest circumstance? And modesty an exile made, for money?
nodes 1779–1846 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 29 of 53 in this edition
Length
517 words · 778 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.894 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
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)
To be your comfortresse, and to preserue you. Alasse, I am past already! 'pray you, thanke 'him, For his good care, and promptnesse, but for that, 'Tis a vaine labour, eene to fight, 'gainst heauen; Applying fire to a stone: (vh, vh, vh, vh.) Making a dead leafe grow againe. I take His wishes gently, though; and, you may tell him, What I' haue done for him: mary; my state is hopelesse! Will him, to pray for me; and t'vse his fortune, With reuerence, when he comes to't. Do you heare, sir? Go to him, with your wife. Heart of my father! Wilt thou persist thus? come, I pray thee, come. Thou seest 'tis nothing. CELIA. By this hand, I shall grow violent. Come, do't, I say. Sir, kill me, rather: I will take downe poyson, Eate burning coales, doe any thing— Be damn'd. (Heart) I will drag thee hence, home, by the haire; Cry thee a strumpet, through the streets; rip vp Thy mouth, vnto thine eares; and slit thy nose, Like a raw rotchet—Do not tempt me, come. Yeld, I am loth— (Death) I will buy some slaue, Whom I will kill, and binde thee to him, aliue; And at my windore, hang you forth: deuising Some monstrous crime, which I, in capitall letters, Will eate into thy flesh, with aqua-fortis, And burning cor'siues, on this stubborne brest. Now, by the bloud, thou hast incens'd, ile do't. Sir, what you please, you may, I am your martyr. Be not thus obstinate. I ha' not deseru'd it: Thinke, who it is, intreats you. 'Pray thee, sweet; (Good faith) thou shalt haue iewells, gownes, attires, What thou wilt thinke, and aske. Do, but, go kisse him. Or touch him, but. For my sake. At my sute. This once. No? not? I shall remember this. Will you disgrace me, thus? do' you thirst my'vndoing? Nay, gentle lady, be aduis'd. No, no. She has watch'd her time. God's precious, this is skiruy; 'Tis very skiruie: and you are— Nay, good, sir. An errant locust, by heauen, a locust. Whore, Crocodile, that hast thy thy teares prepar'd, Expecting, how thou'lt bid 'hem flow. Nay, 'Pray you, sir, Shee will consider. Would my life would serue To satisfie. (S'death) if shee would but speake to him, And saue my reputation, 'twere somewhat; But, spightfully to affect my vtter ruine. I, now you' haue put your fortune, in her hands. Why i'faith, it is her modesty, I must quit her; If you were absent, shee would be more comming; I know it: and dare vndertake for her. What woman can, before her husband? 'pray you, Let vs depart, and leaue her, here. Sweet CELIA, Thou mayst redeeme all, yet; I'le say no more: If not, esteeme your selfe as lost. Nay, stay there. O god, and his good angels! whether, whether. Is shame fled humane brests? that with such ease, Men dare put off your honours, and their owne? Is that, which euer was a cause of life, Now plac'd beneath the basest circumstance? And modestie an exile made, for money?