S., S. · published 1616 · first performed or written 1615 [c.1614-1615] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.77 · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Tarry. Here comes another jackdaw: let's pluck him, and take his feathers with us— stand. Thou durst not say so, were we on just terms. You should be some Lawyer, you stand so on your terms Faith, we must change professions with you, you must give's our fees. You'll earn them first? Brave Sir, so do not Lawyers always. But when you're paid yourself, you'll give's our due. Hold, Gentlemen, this is my friend. Thine, noble Valois? thou shalt beg his ransom then. He stands secure. Haste to your chamber. There I'll meet you presently, and then we'll share. Are thy ends good in this given liberty? Or dost it here alone to murder me? Not with my sword, but with a tale shall wound thy amazed heart— come, let's sit down. What tale? good friend, be plain and short. Woe to a heart, by expectation centuples the smart. I have commendations to you from one Vaster: For by's description you should be the man. Lives Vaster then? 'Las Sir, you know he's dead. And by your bloody hand was murdered. By me? Is not your name Sir Benjamin Gripe! What then? You killed him, Sir. Poor man he died With penitence to heaven, to you remission. Said, that you did it like a man, provoked By his intemperate rage. Fate gave that I Keeping his walk, came to close up his eye. Heaven pardon me. What said the dying Vaster? He charged me seek you out, and gave me gold, To bury him in secret; lest his death Should hazard yours, and charmed my silent breath. His love gives fire to my green pile of sorrows. May his bones rest in peace: in grief I live; Less he and heaven do my black fault forgive. He hath forgiven you, only this he begs; That to the scattered pieces of himself, Left to survive his miseries uncomplete, His Widow and his Orphans, you would yield Some pity for your own, heavens, and his sake: And teach that hand, (from which he hoped some good) To succour theirs, that took away his blood. He bade me tell you, now all means were gone, To expiate that sin, save only one: To hold those up, that on the world's sea swim: Since he had them undone, you undone him. That you would be to them, as he should be: This he bequeathed you as a Legacy. I'll be a just Executor of his will. Good friend, great thanks: my purse thouhast spared to seize But what is worse, haste robbed me of my peace. Vaster, thouart dead: if thy transformed soul, Could from the battlements of you high Tower, Behold the vowed endeavours of my heart, To satisfy thy will and my huge debt, In thee, to thine, thou wouldst my merit set 'Mongst thy best friends: yet narrow are my bounds; To give them plasters, that first gave them wounds.
nodes 674–730 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 16 of 42 in this edition
Length
489 words · 656 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.773 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Tarry. Here comes another Iack-daw: let's plucke him, and take his feathers with vs—ſtand. Thou durſt not ſay ſo, were we on iuſt tearmes. You ſhould bee ſome Lawyer, you ſtand ſo on your termes Faith, we muſt change profeſſions with you, you muſt giue's our fees. Youle earne them firſt? Braue Sir, ſo do not Lawyers alwayes. But when you'r payd your ſelfe, you'l giue's our due. Hold, Gentlemen, this is my friend. Thine, noble Valoys? thou ſhalt begge hisranſome then. Hee ſtands ſecure. Haſte to your chamber. There Ile meet you preſently, and then wee'l ſhare. Are thy ends good in this giuen libertie? Or doſt it here alone to murder me? Not with my ſword, but with a tale ſhall wound thy amazed heart—come, let's ſit downe. What tale? good friend, be plaine and ſhort. Woe to a heart, by expectation centuples the ſmart. I haue commendations to you from one Vaster: For by's deſcription you ſhould be the man. Liues Vaster then? 'Las Sir, you know he's dead. And by your bloudy hand was murdered. By me? Is not your name Sir Beniamin Gripe! What then? You kill'd him, Sir. Poore man he dy'd With penitence to heauen, to you remiſsion. Sayd, that you did it like a man, prouok'd By his intemperate rage. Fate gaue that I Keeping his walke, came to cloſe vp his eye. Heauen pardon me. What ſayd the dying Vaſter? He charg'd me ſeeke you out, and gaue me gold, To bury him in ſecret; leſt his death Should hazard yours, and charm'd my ſilent breath. His loue giues fire to my greene pile of ſorrowes. May his bones reſt in peace: in griefe I liue; Leſſe he and heauen do my blacke fault forgiue. He hath forgiuen you, only this he begges; That to the ſcatter'd pieces of himſelfe, Left to ſuruiue his miſeries vncomplete, His Widow and his Orphans, you would yeeld Some pittie for your owne, heauens, and his ſake: And teach that hand, (from which he hop'd ſome good) To ſuccour theirs, that tooke away his blood. He bad me tell you, now all meanes were gone, To expiate that ſinne, ſaue only one: To hold thoſe vp, that on the worlds ſea ſwimme: Since he had them vndone, you vndone him. That you would be to them, as he ſhould be: This he bequeath'd you as a Legacie. Ile be a iuſt Executor of his will. Good friend, great thankes: my purſe th'haſt ſpar'd to ceaz But what is worſe, haſt robb'd me of my peace. Ʋaſter, th'art dead: if thy transformed ſoule, Could from the battlements of you high Tower, Behold the vow'd endeuours of my heart, To ſatisfie thy will and my huge debt, In thee, to thine, thou wouldſt my merit ſet 'Mongſt thy beſt friends: yet narrow are my bounds; To giue them plaiſters, that firſt gaue them wounds.