Tomkis, Thomas · published 1615 · first performed or written 1615 [Mar 9] (Annals) comedy · before the Court T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.75 · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
My father! Would thou wert in his place. Antonio's dead, Dead, under water drowned. That dead and drowned Am I. I love not to converse with dead men. Open the door sweet Flavia. Sir I am afeared: Horror encloses me, my hairs stand up, I sweat to hear a dead man speak, you smell Of putrefaction: Fie I feel't hither. thouart much abused, I live: come down, and know me. Mistress let me have some sport too. Who's there? Let me come in. Soft, soft sir, You're too hasty. Quickly, or else— Good words, good words, I pray sir, In stranger's houses! were the doors your own, You might be bolder. I'll beat the doors and windows About your ears. Are you so hot? we'll cool you. Since your late drowning, your grey and reverent head Is smeared with Oes, and stuck with cockleshells, This is to wash it. Impudent whore! Out Carter. Hence dirty whipstock, hence you foul clown: be gone, Or all the water I can make, or borrow, Shall once more drown you. ARmellina? whom do you draw your tongue upon so sharply? Sir, 'tis your father's ghost, that strives by force To break the doors and enter. This his grave looks! In every lineament himself no liker. Had I not haply been advertised, What could have forced me think 'twere Trincalo? Doubtless, th'ginger hath raised a ghost That walks in th'reverend ghost of my dead father. These ghosts, these Trincalo's, and Astrologers, Strike me beside myself. Who will receive me When mine own son refuseth? o Antonio! Infinite power of Art! who would believe The planet's influence could transform a man To several shapes! I could now beat him soundly But that he wears the awful countenance Of my dead father, whose memory I reverence. If I be changed beyond thy knowledge, son, Consider that th'excess of heat in Barbarie, The fear of shipwreck, and long tedious journeys, Have tanned my skin, and shrunk my eyes and cheeks; Yet still this face, though altered, may be known. This scar bears witness, 'twas the wound thou curedst With thine own hands. He that changed Trincalo T' Antonio's figure, omitted not the scar As a main character. I have no other marks Or reasons to persuade thee; methinks, this word I am thy father, were argument sufficient To bend my knees, and creep to my embracements. A sudden coldness strikes me, my tender heart Beats with compassion of I know not what. Sirrah be gone, truss up your goodly speeches, Sad shipwrecks, and strange transformations. Your plot's discovered, 'twill not take: thy impudence For once I pardon. The pious reverence. I owe to th'grave resemblance of my father Holds back my angry hands. Hence, if I catch you Haunting my doors again, I'll bastonado you Out of Antonio's skin. Away. I go sir, And yield to such cross fortune as thus drives me.
nodes 1894–1966 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 30 of 43 in this edition
Length
485 words · 683 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.752 (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)
My father! Would thou wert in his place. Antonio's dead, Dead, vnder water drown'd. That dead and drown'd Am I. I loue not to conuerse with dead men. Open the dore sweete Flauia. Sir I am afear'd: Horrour incloses mee, my haires stand vp, I sweate to heare a dead man speake, you smell Of putrifaction: Fy I feel't hither. Th'art much abus'd, I liue: come downe, and know mee. Mistresse let mee haue some sport too. Who's there? Let mee come in. Soft, soft sir, Y'are too hasty. Quickly, or else — Good words, good words, I pray sir, In strangers houses! were the dores your owne, You might bee bolder. I'le beate the dores and windowe's About your eares. Are you so hot? wee'le coole you. Since your late drowning, your gray and reuerent head Is smear'd with Oes, and stucke with Cockle-shels, This is to wash it. Impudent whoore! Out Carter. Hence durtie whipstocke, hence you foule clowne: be gone, Or all the water I can make, or borrow, Shall once more drowne you. ARmellina? whō do you draw your tongue vpon so sharply? Sir, 'tis your fathers ghost, that striues by force To breake the doores and enter. This his graue lookes! In every lineament himselfe no liker. Had I not haply been advertiz'd, What could haue forc'd me thinke 'twere Trincalo? Doubtlesse, th'Astrologer hath rais'd a ghost That walkes in th'reverend ghost of my dead father. These ghosts, these Trincalo's, and Astrologers, Strike me beside my selfe. Who will receiue me When mine owne sonne refuseth? ô Antonio! Infinite power of Art! who would beleeue The planets influence could transforme a man To seuerall shapes! I could now beate him soundly But that he weares the awfull countenance Of my dead father, whose memory I reverence. If I be chang'd beyond thy knowledge, sonne, Consider that th'excesse of heate in Barbarie, The feare of shipwrack, and long tedious iournies, Haue tan'd my skin, and shrunk my eyes and cheekes; Yet still this face, though alter'd, may be knowne. This skarre beares witnesse, 'twas the wound thou cur'dst With thine owne hands. He that chang'd Trincalo T' Antonio's figure, omitted not the skarre As a maine character. I haue no other markes Or reasons to perswade thee; me thinkes, this word I am thy father, were argument sufficient To bend my knees, and creepe to my embracements. A sudden coldnesse strikes me, my tender heart Beates with compassion of I know not what. Sirra be gone, trusse vp your goodly speeches, Sad shipwracks, and strange transformations. Your plot's discouer'd, 'twill not take: thy impudence For once I pardon. The pious reuerence. I owe to th'graue resemblance of my father Holds backe my angry hands. Hence, if I catch you Haunting my doores againe, I'le bastonado you Out of Antonio's skin. Away. I goe sir, And yeeld to such crosse fortune as thus driues me.