The White Devil (Vittoria Corombona) · chunk 43 of 49
Webster, John · published 1612 · first performed or written 1612 [Winter 1612-1613] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Anne's Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.69 · 476 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Your reverend mother Is grown a very old woman in two hours. I found them winding of Marcello's corpse; And there is such a solemn melody 'tween doleful songs, tears, and sad elegies: Such, as old grandames, watching by the dead, Were wont t'outwear the nights with; that believe me I had no eyes to guide me forth the room, They were so o'ercharged with water. I will see them. 'Twere much uncharity in you: for your sight Will add unto their tears. I will see them. They are behind the travers. I'll discover Their superstitious howling. This rosemary is withered, pray get fresh; I would have these herbs grow up in his grave When I am dead and rotten. Reach the bays, I'll tie a garland here about his head: 'Twill keep my boy from lightning. This sheet I have kept this twenty year, and every day Hallowed it with my prayers, I did not think He should have wore it. Look you; who are yonder. O reach me the flowers. Her ladyships foolish. Alas! her grief Hath turned her child again. You're very welcome. There's Rosemary for you, and Rue for you, Hearts-ease for you. I pray make much of it. I have left more for myself. Lady, who's this? You are, I take it, the grave-maker. So. 'Tis Flamineo. Will you make me such a fool? here's a white hand: Can blood so soon be washed out? Let me see, When screech-owls croak upon the chimney tops, And the strange Cricket i'th' oven sings and hops, When yellow spots do on your hands appear, be certain then you of a Course shall hear. Out upon't, how 'tis speckled! h'as handled a toad sure. cowslip-water is good for the memory: pray buy me 3. ounces of't. I would I were from hence. Do you here, I'll give you a saying which my grandmother (sir? Was wont, when she heard the bell tolle, to sing over unto her lute Do and you will, do. Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funeral Dole The ant, the fieldmouse, and the mole To rear him hillocks, that shall keep him warm, And (when gay tombs are robbed) sustain no harm, But keep the wolf far thence: that's foe to men, For with his nails he'll dig them up again. They would not bury him 'cause he died in a quarrel But I have an answer for them. Let holy Church receive him duly Since he paid the Church tithes truly. His wealth is summed, and this is all his store: This poor men get; and great men get no more. Now the wares are gone, we may shut up shop. Bless you all good people,
nodes 2670–2736 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 43 of 49 in this edition
Length
476 words · 658 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.687 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Your reuerend mother Is growne a very old woman in two howers. I found them winding of Marcello's coarse; And there is such a solemne melodie 'Tweene dolefull songes, teares, and sad elegies: Such, as old grandames, watching by the dead, Were wont t'out-weare the nights with; that beleeue mee I had no eies to guide mee forth the roome, They were so ore-charg'd with water. I will see them. 'Twere much vncharety in you: for your sight Will adde vnto their teares. I will see them. They are behind the trauers. Ile discouer Their superstitious howling. This rosemarie is wither'd, pray get fresh; I would haue these herbes grow vp in his graue When I am dead and rotten. Reach the bayes, Ile tye a garland heere about his head: 'Twill keepe my boy from lightning. This sheet I haue kept this twentie yere, and euerie daie Hallow'd it with my praiers, I did not thinke Hee should haue wore it. Looke you; who are yonder. O reach mee the flowers. Her Ladiships foolish. Alas! her grief Hath turn'd her child againe. You're very wellcome. There's Rosemarie for you, and Rue for you, Hearts-ease for you. I pray make much of it. I haue left more for my selfe. Ladie, who's this? You are, I take it, the graue-maker. So. 'Tis Flamineo. Will you make mee such a foole? heere's a white hand: Can bloud so soone bee washt out? Let mee see, When scritch-howles croke vpon the chimney tops, And the strange Cricketith ouen singes and hoppes, When yellow spots doe on your handes appeare, Bee certaine then you of a Course shall heare. Out vpon't, how 'tis speckled! h'as handled a toad sure. Couslep-water is good for the memorie: pray buy mee 3. ounces of't. I would I were from hence. Do you heere, Ile giue you a saying which my grandmother (sir? Was wont, when she heard the bell tolle, to sing ore vnto her lute Doe and you will, doe. Call for the Robin-Red-brest and the wren, Since ore shadie groues they houer, And with leaues and flowres doe couer The friendlesse bodies of vnburied men. Call vnto his funerall Dole The Ante, the field-mouse, and the mole To reare him hillockes, that shall keepe him warme, And (when gay tombes are rob'd) sustaine no harme, But keepe the wolfe far thence: that's foe to men, For with his nailes hee'ldig them vp agen. They would not bury him' cause hee died in a quarrell But I haue an answere for them. Let holie Church receiue him duly Since hee payd the Church tithes truly. His wealth is sum'd, and this is all his store: This poore men get; and great men get no more. Now the wares are gone, wee may shut vp shop. Blesse you all good people,