Anonymous · published 1609 · first performed or written 1607 [1599-1608] (Annals) comedy · Children of the King's Revels T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.85 · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Gentle sir, Lay not that leaden load of foul reproach, Upon so weak a prop, what's done is past recall, If aught is done, unfitting to be done, The worst is done, my life must answer it. I, you shall answer it in the Senate house, the Emperor shall know it: if she be my child, I will rule her, i'll bridle her: i'll curb her: i'll rain her, if she will not, let her go, starve, beg. hang, draw, sink, swim she gets not a do it, a deneire, i'll not own her. Reverend Sir be more patiented. I am impatient: I am troubled: I am vexed: I am scoffed: I am pointed at: i'll not endure it: i'll not abide it: i'll be revenged, I will: of her: of you both: proud boy: wanton giglot, a spiring haughty, know your equals, she's not for ye, if ye persist, by my holy maker you shall answer it, look to it, you shall, you shall indeed. I shall, I must, I will, I will indeed, Even to the greatest I will answer it: If great men's ears be ope to innocency, If greatness be not partial with greatness, Even to the greatest I will answer it, Perhaps some shallow censurer will say, The Orator was proud, he would climb too high, But heaven and truth will say the contrary. My greatest grief is, I have my friend betrayed, The treason's done, I, and the Traitor's free, Yet innocent Treason needs not to flee, His loyalty bids me abide his frown, And he hath power to raise, or hurl me down. What ails my Tully, wherefore look'st thou sad? What discontent hath stopped the crimson current Which ran so cheerfully within that brow, And makes it sullen like a standing pool? Tell me, who is't hath wrong my Cicero? Oh wrong him not. Who is it then that wrongs my Tully so? What hath Terentia ought offended thee? Dost thou recall thy former promises? Dost thou repent thee of— Oh wrong me not. What hath my Father done this injury? There, there, thy thoughts accord to say 'tis so, I will deny him then, he's not my father, he's not my friend will envy Cicero. Wrong not thyself. What heavy string dost thou divide upon? Wrong not him, wrong not me, wrong not thyself, Where didst thou learn that doleful mandrake's note, To kill the hearers? Tully, Canst thou not endure a little danger for my love? The fiery spleen of an angry Father, Who like a storm will soon consume itself, I have endured a thousand jarring hours, Since first he did mistrust my fancies aim: And will endure a thousand thousand more, If life or discord either live so long. The like will I for sweet Terentia, Fear not, I have approved armour on, Will bide the brunt of popular reproach, Or whatsoever. Enough Tully, we are discovered.
nodes 641–693 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 20 of 35 in this edition
Length
489 words · 681 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.846 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Gentle ſir, Lay not that leaden loade of foule reproach, Vpon ſo weake a prop, what's done is paſt recall, If ought is done, vnfitting to be done, The worſt is done, my life muſt anſwere it. I, you ſhall anſwere it in the Senate houſe, the Emperor ſhall knowe it: if ſhe be my childe, I will rule her, ile bridle her: ile curbe her: ile raine her, if ſhe will not, let her goe, ſtarue, begge. hang, drawe, ſinck, ſwimme ſhe gets not a do it, a deneire, ile not owne her. Reuerend Sir be more patient. I am impatient: I am troubled: I am vext: I am ſcoft: I am pointed at: ile not endure it: ile not abide it: ile be reuenged, I wil: of her: of you both: proud boy: wanton giglot, a ſpyring hautie, knowe your equals, ſhee's not for ye, if ye perſiſt, by my holy maker you ſhall anſwere it, looke to it, you ſhall, you ſhall indeede. I ſhall, I muſt, I will, I will indeede, Euen to the greateſt I will anſwere it: If great mens eares be ope to innocency, If greatneſſe be not partiall with greatneſſe, Euen to the greateſt I will anſwere it, Perhaps ſome ſhallowe cenſurer will ſay, The Orator was proud, he would climbe too hie, But heauen and truth will ſay the contrarie. My greateſt griefe is, I haue my friend betraide, The treaſon's done, I, and the Traitor's free, Yet innocent Treaſon needes not to flee, His loyaltie bids me abide his frowne, And he hath power to raiſe, or hurle me downe. What ailes my Tully, wherefore look'ſt thou ſad? What diſcontent hath ſtopt the crimſon current Which ran ſo cheerefully within that brow, And makes it ſullen like a ſtanding poole? Tell me, who iſt hath wrong my Cicero? Oh wrong him not. Who is it then that wrongs my Tully ſo? What hath Terentia ought offended thee? Dooſt thou recall thy former promiſes? Doſt thou repent thee of— Oh wrong me not. What hath my Father done this iniurie? There, there, thy thoughts accord to ſay tis ſo, I will deny him then, hee's not my father, Hee's not my friend will enuie Cicero. Wrong not thy ſelfe. What heauie ſtring dooſt thou deuide vpon? Wrong not him, wrong not me, wrong not thy ſelfe, Where didſt thou learne that dolefull mandrakes note, To kill the hearers? Tully, Canſt thou not indure a little danger for my loue? The fierie ſpleene of an angrie Father, Who like a ſtorme will ſoone conſume it ſelfe, I haue indurde a thouſand iarring houres, Since firſt he did miſtruſt my fancies aime: And will indure a thouſand thouſand more, If life or diſcord either liue ſo long. The like will I for ſweete Terentia, Feare not, I haue approoued armour on, Will bide the brunt of popular reproach, Or whatſoeuer. Enough Tully, we are diſcouered.