Markham, Gervase / Machin, Lewis · published 1608 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1608] (Annals) tragicomedy · Children of the King's Revels T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.75 · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Come my hearts, let's make all things ready for the execution, here's a maiden head must be cut off without a featherbed. It's a sign she deals with sharp tools & a cruel heads man. If I had been her judge, she should have been tossed to death in a blanket. No, I would have had her smothered in a featherbed. They say she would not plead at her trial. No that's true, for she had a great desire to be priest. And I have known some of her sex, have got that favour to be priest for speaking. Then she was unwise to hold her tongue being a woman. What is her crime that she must lose her head? Because she lived honest, contrary to the statute. There is a great number of my neighbours will never suffer for that fault. No nor thou neither if the truth were known, for my part I shun that danger. I think we are all out of danger of the law for that crime. I know I am free, for I am a knave if I have not forgot what wench had my maiden head. Make room there, his majesty is coming to the execution. Come, now all things are ready: let's away. Mercy is banished courts, the King like flint, Hardens his royal temper 'gainst our plaints, And makes our woes most unavoidable. What inauspicious star reigned at her birth, That heaven thus frowns upon her misery; And my good Lord, now innocence must die. As white as untroade snow, or culver down, King's words are laws, and cannot be withstood; Yet 'tis false greatness, which delights in blood. Patience my Lord, I do not think this ill Is yet so big as unrecoverable. The king doth hold you in most choice respect, And whom kings love, they study to oblige. Then call your reason home, make not this civil ware, To suffer makes woes lesser than they are. How well the sound can salve the sick-man's grief! But O how ill he can digest his pills! O my good Lord, you shall not lose a sister, That is the joy and comfort of your breath, 'tis not your blood shall issue from her wound, But mine that runs in rivers from her tears: And rounds my face in her calamity. Well, let her perish, since her soul is clear, And for her death, i'll make a massacre. Your suits are bootless: for my vows have glued And closed mine ears that they retain no sound Of your entreaties, and even now the time Doth run upon his latest minutes, and Save but by speech, there's no recovery. Have mercy good my Lord, O let my tears intrude Betwixt your vows and her calamity. In her you take from me my best of life, My joy, my comfort and my playfellow. Content you madame, for my vow is past, And is like fate still unrevocable: Ascend poor model of calamity.
nodes 840–891 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 17 of 37 in this edition
Length
499 words · 640 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.750 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Come my harts, lets make all things ready for the execution, heer's a maiden head must be cut off without a featherbed. Its a signe she deales with sharp tooles & a cruell heads man. If I had beene her iudge, she should haue beene tost to death in a blanket. No, I would haue had her smothered in a featherbed. They say she would not pleade at her triall. No thats true, for she had a great desire to be prest. And I haue knowne some of her sex, haue got that fauor to be prest for speaking. Then she was vnwise to hold her tongue being a woman. What is her crime that she must loose her head? Because she liued honest, contrary to the statute. There is a great number of my neighbors wll neuer suffer for that fault. No nor thou neither if the truth were knowne, for my part I shunne that danger. I thinke we are all out of danger of the lawe for that crime. I know I am free, for I am a knaue if I haue not forgot what wench had my maiden head. Make roome there, his Maiesty is comming to the execution. Come, now all things are ready: lets away. Mercy is banisht courts, the King like flint, Hardens his royall temper gainst our plaints, And makes our woes most vnauoidable. What inauspicious starre raignd at her birth, That heauen thus frownes vpon her misery; And my good Lord, now innocence must die. As white as vntroade snow, or culuer downe, Kings words are lawes, and cannot be withstood; Yet t'is false greatnesse, which delights in blood. Patience my Lord, I do not thinke this ill Is yet so big as vnrecouerable. The king doth hold you in most choice respect, And whom kings loue, they study to oblige. Then call your reason home, make not this ciuill ware, To suffer makes woes lesser then they are. How wel the sound can salue the sicke-mans griefe! But O how ill he can disgest his pils! O my good Lord, you shall not lose a sister, That is the ioy and comfort of your breath, T'is not your bloud shall issue from her wound, But mine that runs in riuers from her teares: And rounds my face in her calamitie. Well, let her perish, since her soule is cleare, And for her death, ile make a massacrie. Your suits are bootlesse: for my vowes haue glewd And closd mine eares that they retaine no sound Of your intreaties, and euen now the time Doth run vpon his latest minutes, and Saue but by speech, theres no recouery. Haue mercy good my Lord, O let my teares intrude Betwixt your vowes and her calamitie. In her you take from me my best of life, My ioy, my comfort and my play-fellow. Content you madame, for my vow is past, And is like fate still vnreuocable: Ascend poore modell of calamity.