Barry, Lording · published 1611 · first performed or written 1608 [1608-1610(?)] (Annals) comedy · Children of the King's Revels T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.77 · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
ay me accursed: help, help, murder murder, Cursed be the day and hour that gave me breath, Murder, murder: if any Gentleman Can hear my plaints, come forth and assist me. What outcries call me from my naked bed, Who calls Ieronimo, speak here I am. Good sir leave your struggling and acting, And help to save the life of a distressed man, O help if you be Gentlemen! What's here? A man hanged up and all the murderers gone? And at my door to lay the guilt on me. This place was made to pleasure citizens wives, And not to hang up honest Gentlemen Where be these lazy knaves? some raise the house, What meant the cry of murder? where's my love? Come Isabella, help me to lament, For sighs are stopped, and all my tears are spent. These clothes I oft have seen, ay me my friend: Pursue the murderers, raise all the street It shall not need, 'a stirs, give him breath. Is there yet life, Horatio my dear boy, Horatio! Horatio, what hast thou misdone, To lose thy life when life was new begun? 'sheart a man had as good be hanged outright, As to endure this clapping: shame to thy sex, Perfidious perjured woman, where's thy shame? How can thy modesty forbear to blush, And know'st I know thee an adulteress? Have not thy vows made thee my lawful wife Before the face of heaven? where is thy shame? But why speak I of shame to thee, whose face, Is steeled with customed sin, whose thoughts want grace: The custom of thy sin so lulls thy sense: Women near blush, though near so foul th'offence, To break thy vow to me and straight to wed, A doting stinkard. But hold your tongue, Or by this light I'll truss you up again, 'sheart rail on my wife, am I a stinkard, Or do I dote? speak such another word, And up you truss again, am I a stinkard? The knight your father is: Why who denies it. He suppliants thee and I supplanted him. Come come, you shall be friends come forgive her: For by this light there is no remedy, Unless you will betake you to my leavings. Rather than so I'll help you to a wife: rich, well borne, and by some accounted fair, And for the worth of her Virginity, I dare presume to pawn my honesty: What say you to Constantia Somerfield? Dost know where she is boy? I do, nay more, If he but swear to embrace her constant love, I'll fetch her to this place. A shall do it boy, A shall do it, go fetch her boy, foot my father, Stand to't now old wench, stand to't now. Now fresh and youthful as the month of May, I'll bid my Bride good morrow, Musicians on, Lightly, lightly, and by my knighthood's spur, This year you shall have my protection, And yet not buy your livery coats yourselves: God morrow Bride, fresh, fresh, as the month of May, I come to kiss thee on thy wedding day.
nodes 2710–2776 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 40 of 42 in this edition
Length
517 words · 702 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.770 (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)
Aye mee accurst: helpe, helpe, murther murther, Curst be the day and houre that gaue me breath, Murther, murther: if any Gentleman Can heare my plaints, come forth and assist me. What out-cryes call me from my naked bed, Who calls Ieronimo, speake here I am. Good sir leaue your struggling and acting, And helpe to saue the life of a distressed man, O helpe if you be Gentlemen! Whats here? A man hangd vp and all the murtherers gone? And at my doore to lay the guilt on me. This place was made to pleasure Cittizens wiues, And not to hange vppe honest Gentlemen Where be these lazie knaues? some raise the house, What ment the cry of murther? where's my loue? Come Isabella, helpe me to lament, For sigthes are stopt, and all my teares are spent. These clothes I oft haue seene, aye me my friend: Pursue the murtherers, rayse all the street It shall not need, a stirs, giue him breath. Is there yet life, Horatio my deere boy, Horatio! Horatio, what hast thou mis-done, To lose thy life when life was new begunne? Zeart a man had as good be hangd outright, As to indure this clapping: shame to thy sexe, Perfidious periur'd woman, wher's thy shame? How can thy modesty forbeare to blush, And knowst I know thee an adultresse? Haue not thy vowes made thee my lawfull wife Before the face of heauen? where is thy shame? But why speake I of shame to thee, whose face, Is steel'd with custom'd sinne, whose thoughts want grace: The custome of thy sinne so luls thy sence: Women nere blush, though nere so foule th'offence, To breake thy vow to me and straight to wed, A doting stinckerd. But hold your tongue, Or by this light Ile trusse you vp againe, Zeart rayle on my wife, am I a stinkerd, Or do I dote? speake such another word, And vp you trusse againe, am I a stinkerd? The knight your father is: VVhy who denies it. He supplants thee and I supplanted him. Come come, you shall be friends come forgiue her: For by this light there is no remedy, Vnlesse you will betake you to my leauings. Rather then so Ile helpe you to a wife: Ritch, well borne, and by some accounted fayre, And for the worth of her Virginity, I dare presume to pawne my honesty: VVhat say you to Constantia Somerfield? Do'st know where she is boy? I do, nay more, If he but sweare to imbrace her constant loue, Ile fetch her to this place. A shall do it boy, A shall do it, goe fetch her boy, foote my father, Stand too't now old wench, stand too't now. Now fresh and youthfull as the month of May, Ile bid my Bryde good morrow, Musitions on, Lightly, lightly, and by my knighthoods spurre, This yeere you shall haue my protection, And yet not buy your liuery coates your selues: God morrow Bride, fresh, fresh, as the month of May, I come to kisse thee on thy wedding day.