Chapman, George · published 1612 · first performed or written 1604 [1604-1605] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.78 · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
ay, you shall find me constant. ay, so I have, most prodigiously constant, Here's a rare halter to hug him with. Better you and I join our hands and bear him thither, you take his head. ay, for that was always heavier than's whole body besides You can tell best that loaded it. I'll be at the feet; I am able to bear against you I warrant you. Hast thou prepared weak nature to digest A sight so much distasteful; hast served thy heart I bleed not at the bloody spectacle? Hast armed thy fearful eyes against th'affront Of such a direful object? Thy murmured husband ghastly staring on thee; His wounds gaping to affright thee; his body soiled with Gore? fore heaven my heart shrugs at it. So does not mine, love's resolute; and stands not to consult With petty terror; but in full carrier Runs blindfold through an Army of misdoubts, And interposing fears; perhaps I'll weep Or so, make a forc't face and laugh again. O most valiant love! I was thinking with myself as I came; how if this broke to light; his body known; (As many notes might make it) would it not fix Upon thy fame, an unremoved Brand Of shame, and hate; they that in former times Adored thy virtue; would they not abhor Thy loathest memory? All this I know. But yet my love to thee Swallows all this; or whatsoever doubts Can come against it. Shame's but a feather balanced with thy love. Neither fear nor shame? you are steel toth' Proof (but I shall iron you): Come then let's to work. Alas poor Corpse how many martyrdoms Must thou endure? mangled by me a villain, And now exposed to foul shame of the Gibbet? Fore, piety, there is somewhat in me strives Against the deed, my very arm relents To strike a stroke so inhuman, To wound a hallowed hearse? suppose 'twere mine, Would not my Ghost start up and fly upon thee? No, I'd maul it down again with this. How now? Nay, then I'll assay my strength; a Soldier and a arrayed a dead man? A soft-r'ode milksop? come I'll do't myself. And I look on? give me the iron. No, I'll not lose the glory an't. This hand, etc. Pray thee sweet, let it not be said the savage act was thine; deliver me the engine. Content yourself, 'tis in a fitter hand. Wilt thou first? art not thou the most. Ill-destined wife of a transformed monster; Who to assure himself of what he knew, Hath lost the shape of man. Ha? cross-capers? Poor soldiers case; do not we know you Sir? But I have given thee what thou cam'st to seek. Go Satire, run affrighted with the noise Of that harsh sounding horn thyself hast blown, Farewell; I leave thee there my husband's Corpse, Make much of that.
nodes 1217–1278 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 39 of 43 in this edition
Length
482 words · 656 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.778 (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)
I, you shall finde me constant. I, so I haue, most prodigiously constant, Here's a rare halter to hugge him with. Better you and I ioyne our handes and beare him thether, you take his head. I, for that was alwaies heauier then's whole bodie besides You can tell best that loded it. Ile be at the feet; I am able to beare against you I warrant you. Hast thou prepar'd weake nature to digest A sight so much distastfull; hastser'd thy heart I bleede not at the bloudie spectacle? Hast arm'd thy fearefull eies against th'affront Of such a direfull obiect? Thy murther'd husband ghastly staring on thee; His wounds gaping to affright thee; his bodie soild with Gore? fore heauen my heart shruggs at it. So does not mine, Loue's resolute; and stands not to consult With pettie terrour; but in full carrier Runnes blind-fold through an Armie of misdoubts, And interposing feares; perhaps Ile weepe Or so, make a forc't face and laugh againe. O most valiant loue! I was thinking with my selfe as I came; how if this Brake to light; his bodie knowne; (As many notes might make it) would it not fixe Vpon thy fame, an vnremoued Brand Of shame, and hate; they that in former times Ador'd thy vertue; would they not abhorre Thy lothest memorie? All this I know. But yet my loue to thee Swallowes all this; or whatsoeuer doubts Can come against it. Shame's but a feather ballanc't with thy loue. Neither feare nor shame? you are steele toth' Proofe (but I shall yron you): Come then lets to worke. Alas poore Corps how many martyrdomes Must thou endure? mangl'd by me a villaine, And now expos'd to foule shame of the Gibbet? Fore, pietie, there is somewhat in me striues Against the deede, my very arme relents To strike a stroke so inhumane, To wound a hallow'd herse? suppose twere mine, Would not my Ghost start vp and flie vpon thee? No, I'de mall it down againe with this. How now? Nay, then Ile assay my strength; a Souldier and a raid of a dead man? A soft-r'ode milk-sop? come Ile doot my selfe. And I looke on? giue me the yron. No, Ile not lose the glorie ant. This hand, &c. Pray thee sweet, let it not bee said the sauage act was thine; deliuer me the engine. Content your selfe, tis in a fitter hand. Wilt thou first? art not thou the most. Ill-destin'd wife of a transform'd monster; Who to assure him selfe of what he knew, Hath lost the shape of man. Ha? crosse-capers? Poore Souldiers case; doe not we know you Sir? But I haue giuen thee what thou cam'st to seeke. Goe Satyre, runne affrighted with the noise Of that harsh sounding horne thy selfe hast blowne, Farewell; I leaue thee there my Husbands Corps, Make much of that.