Marston, John / Machin, Lewis / Barkstead, William · published 1613 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1607-1608; revised 1609-1613] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels (?); Children of the King's Revels (?) · Whitefriars T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.75 · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
A bastard, a bastard, a bastard: I might have lived like a gentleman, And now I must die like a Hanger on: Show tricks upon a wooden horse, And run through an Alphabet of scurvy faces: Do not expect a good look from me. O me unfortunate! O to think whilst we are singing the last Hymn, And ready to be turned off, Some new tune is inventing, by some Metermonger, To a scurvy Ballad of our death. Again at our funeral Sermons, To have the Divine, divide his text into fair branches: Oh, flesh and blood cannot endure it, Yet I will take it patiently like a grave man, Hangman, tie not my halter of a true lovers knot, I shall burst it if thou dost. Husband, I do beseech you on my knees, I may but speak with you. I'll win your pardon, Or with tears like Niobe bedew a. Hold thy water Crocodile, and say I am bound To do thee no harm: were I free yet I could not Be looser than thou: For thou art a whore. Agamemnon's daughter that was sacrificed For a good wind, felt but a blast of the torments: Thou shouldst endure, I'd make thee swoon Oftener, than that fellow that by his continual practice Hopes to become Drum major. What sayst thou to tickling to death with bodkins? But thou hast laughed too much at me already, whore. justice O Duke, and let me not hang in suspense. Husband: I'll nail me to the earth, but I'll Win your pardon. My jewels, jointure, all I have shall fly: Apparel, bedding, I'll not leave a Rug; So you may come off fairly. I'll come off fairly. Then beg my pardon, I had rather chirurgeons hall should beg my dead body For an Anatomy, than thou beg my life: justice O Duke, and let us die. signor, think, and dally not with heaven, But freely tell us, did you do the murder? I have confessed it, to my ghostly father, And done the Sacrament of penance for it. What would your highness more? The like have I, what would your highness more? And here before you all take't o'my death. In God's name then on to the death with them, For the poor widows that you leave behind, Though by the law, their goods are all confiscate, Yet we'll be their good Lord, and give 'em them. Oh hell of hells. Why did not we hire some villain to fire our houses? I thought not of that, my mind was altogether of the gallows. May the wealth I leave behind me, help to damn her, And as the cursed fate of courtesan, What she gleans with her traded art, May one as a most due plague cheat from, In the last dotage of her tired lust, And leave her an unpitied age of woe. Amen, Amen. I never heard men pray more fervently.
Marston, John / Machin, Lewis / Barkstead, William
Publication year (edition)
1613
First performance / composition (Annals)
1607 [c.1607-1608; revised 1609-1613]
First performance (BritDrama)
1610 [1608-1613]
Company (BritDrama)
Children of the Queen's Revels (?); Children of the King's Revels (?)
Theater
Whitefriars;Indoor Professional
Genre (British Drama)
tragedy
Play type
Boys Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 721 · TCP A07067 · DEEP 599
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 2055–2115 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 38 of 40 in this edition
Length
491 words · 650 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.749 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
A bastard, a bastard, a bastard: I might haue liu'd like a gentleman, And now I must die like a Hanger on: Shew trickes vpon a woodden horse, And runne through an Alphabet of scuruie faces: Doe not expect a good looke from me. O mee vnfortunate! O to thinke whil'st we are singing the last Hymne, And readie to be turn'd off, Some new tune is inuenting, by some Metermonger, To a scuruie Ballad of our death. Againe at our funerall Sermons, To haue the Diuine, diuide his text into faire branches: Oh, flesh and bloud cannot indure it, Yet I will take it patiently like a graue man, Hangman, tie not my halter of a true louers knot, I shall burst it if thou doost. Husband, I doe beseech you on my knees, I may but speake with you. I'le winne your pardon, Or with teares like Niobe bedew a. Hold thy water Crocodile, and say I am bound To doe thee no harme: were I free yet I could not Be looser then thou: For thou art a whore. Agamemnons daughter that was sacrific'd For a good winde, felt but a blast of the torments: Thou should'st indure, I'de make thee swownd Oftner, then that fellow that by his continuall practise Hopes to become Drum Maior. What saist thou to tickling to death with bodkins? But thou hast laught too much at me alreadie, whore. Iustice O Duke, and let me not hang in suspence. Husband: I'le naile me to the earth, but I'le Winne your pardon. My Iewels, iointure, all I haue shall flye: Apparell, bedding, I'le not leaue a Rugge; So you may come off fairely. I'le come off fairely. Then beg my pardon, I had rather Chirurgions hall should begge my dead bodie For an Anatomie, then thou begge my life: Iustice O Duke, and let vs die. Signior, thinke, and dally not with heauen, But freely tell vs, did you doe the murther? I haue confest it, to my ghostly father, And done the Sacrament of penance for it. What would your highnesse more? The like haue I, what would your highnesse more? And here before you all tak't o'my death. In Gods name then on to the death with them, For the poore widdowes that you leaue behinde, Though by the law, their goods are all confiscate, Yet wee'll be their good Lord, and giue 'em them. Oh hell of hels. Why did not we hire some villaine to fire our houses? I thought not of that, my minde was altogether of the gallowes. May the wealth I leaue behinde me, help to damne her, And as the cursed fate of curtezan, What she gleanes with her traded art, May one as a most due plague cheat from, In the last dotage of her tired lust, And leaue her an vnpittied age of woe. Amen, Amen. I neuer heard men pray more feruently.