Beaumont, Francis · published 1613 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.77 · 440 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Come you whose loves are dead, And whiles I sing Weep and wring Every hand and every head, Bind with cypress and sad Ewe, Ribbons black, and candles blue, For him that was of men most true. Come with heavy mourning, And on his grave Let him have Sacrifice of sighs and groaning, Let him have fair flowers enough, White and purple, green and yellow, For him that was of men most true. Thou sable cloth, said cover of my joys I lift thee up, and thus I meet with death. And thus you meet the living Save me heaven. Nay do not fly me fair, I am no spirit, Look better on me, do you know me yet? O thou dear shadow of my friend. Dear substance, I swear I am no shadow, feel my hand, It is the same it was, I am your jasper, Your Iasper that's yet living, and yet loving, Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proof I put in practice of your constancy, For sooner should my sword have drunk my blood, And set my soul at liberty, then drawn The least drop from that body; for which boldness Doom me to any thing: if death I take it And willingly. This death I'll give you for it, So, now I am satisfied: you are no spirit, But my own truest, truest, truest friend, Why do you come thus to me. First to see you, Than to convey you hence. It cannot be, For I am locked up here and watched at all hours, That 'tis impossible for me to scape. Nothing more possible, within this coffin Do you convey yourself, let me alone, I have the wits of twenty men about me, Only I crave the shelter of your Closet A little, and then fear me not; creep in That they may presently convey you hence: Fear nothing dearest love, I'll be your second, Lie close, so, all goes well yet; Boy. At hand sir. Convey away the Coffin, and be wary. 'Tis done already. Now must I go conjure. Boy, Boy. Your servant sir. Do me this kindness Boy, hold here's a crown: Before thou bury the body of this fellow, carry it to his old merry father, and salute him from me, and bid him sing, he hath cause. I will sir. And then bring me word what tune he is in, and have another crown: but do it truly. I have fitted him a bargain, now, will vex him. God bless your worship's health sir. Farewell boy. Ah old Merrithought, art thou there again, let's here some of thy songs.
nodes 1429–1490 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 34 of 42 in this edition
Length
440 words · 565 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.768 (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)
Come you whose loues are dead, And whiles I sing Weepe and wring Euery hand and euery head, Bind with Cipres and sad Ewe, Ribands blacke, and candles blew, For him that was of men most true. Come with heauy mourning, And on his graue Let him haue Sacrifice of sighes and groaning, Let him haue faire flowers enow, White and purple, greene and yellow, For him that was of men most true. Thou sable cloth, sed couer of my ioies I lift thee vp, and thus I meete with death. And thus you meete the liuing Saue me heauen. Nay do not flie me faire, I am no spirit, Looke better on me, do you know me yet? O thou deere shadow of my friend. Deere substance, I sweare I am no shadow, feele my hand, It is the same it was, I am your Iasper, Your Iasper that's yet liuing, and yet louing, Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proofe I put in practise of your constancy, For sooner should my sword haue drunke my bloud, And set my soule at liberty, then drawne The least drop from that body; for which boldnesse Doome me to any thing: if death I take it And willingly. This death I'le giue you for it, So, now I am satisfied: you are no spirit, But my owne truest, truest, truest friend, VVhy doe you come thus to mee. First to see you, Then to conuey you hence. It cannot bee, For I am lockt vp here and watcht at all howers, That 'tis impossible for me to scape. Nothing more possible, within this coffin Do you conuey your selfe, let me alone, I haue the wits of twenty men about me, Onely I craue the shelter of your Closet A little, and then feare me not; creepe in That they may presently conuey you hence: Feare nothing deerest loue, Il'e be your second, Lie close, so, all goes well yet; Boy. At hand sir. Conuey away the Coffin, and be wary. 'Tis done already. Now must I go coniure. Boy, Boy. Your seruant sir. Do me this kindnesse Boy, hold here's a crowne: Before thou bury the body of this fellow, carry it to his old merie father, and salute him from mee, and bid him sing, he hath cause. I will sir. And then bring me word what tune he is in, and haue another crowne: but do it truely. I haue fitted him a bargaine, now, will vex him. God blesse your VVorships health sir. Fare-well boy. Ah old Merry-thought, art thou there againe, let's here some of thy songs.