Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1619 · first performed or written 1610 [c.1610-1611] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.81 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
You are not merry, brother drink wine, Sit you all still, Callianax I cannot trust thus, I have thrown out words, That would have fetched warm blood upon the cheeks Of guilty men, and he is never moved, He knows no such thing. Impudence may scape, when feeble virtue is accused. A must if he were guilty feel an alteration At this our whisper, whilst we point at him, You see he does not. Let him hang himself, What care I what he does, this he did say. Melant. you can easily conceive What I have meant, for men that are in faults Can subtly apprehend when others aim At what they do amiss, but I forgive Freely before this man, heaven do so too; I will not touch thee so much as with shame Of telling it, let it be so no more. Why this is very fine. I cannot tell What 'tis you mean, but I am apt enough Rudely to thrust into ignorant fault, But let me know it, happily 'tis nought But misconstruction, and where I am clear I will not take forgiveness of the gods, Much less of you. Nay if you stand so stiff, I shall call back my mercy. I want smoothness To thank a man for pardoning of a crime I never knew. Not to instruct your knowledge, but to show you my ears are everywhere, you meant to kill me, and get the fort to scape. Pardon me Sir, my bluntness will be pardoned, you preserve A race of idle people here about you, Facers, and talkers to defame the world Of those that do things worthy, the man that uttered this Had perished without food, be't who it will, But for this arm that fenced him from the Foe. And if I thought you gave a faith to this, The plainness of my nature would speak more, Give me a pardon, for you ought to do't To kill him that spoke this. I that will be the end of all, Than I am fairly paid for all my care and service. That old man, who calls my enemy, and of whom I (Though I will never match my hate so low,) Have no good thought, would yet I think excuse me, And swear he thought me wronged in this. Who I, thou shameless Fellow that hast spoke to me Of it thyself. O then it came from him. From me, who should it come from but from me? Nay I believe your malice is enough, But I ha' lost my anger, Sir I hope You are well satisfied. Licip: cheer Amintor and his Lady, there's no sound Comes from you, I will come and do't myself. You have done all ready Sir for me I thank you. Melantius I do credit this from him, How sleight soe'er you make't. 'tis strange you should. 'tis strange a should believe an old man's word, That never lied in's life.
nodes 1954–2016 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 31 of 42 in this edition
Length
497 words · 626 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.814 (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)
You are not merry, brother drinke wine, Sit you all still, Callianax I cannot trust thus, I haue throwne out words, That would haue fetcht warme bloud vpon the cheekes Of guilty men, and he is neuer mou'd, He knowes no such thing. Impudence may scape, when feeble virtue is accusd. A must if he were guilty feele an alteration At this our whisper, whilst we point at him, You see he does not. Let him hang himselfe, What care I what he does, this he did say Melant. you can easily conceiue What I haue meant, for men that are in faults Can subtly apprehend when others aime At what they doe amisse, but I forgiue Freely before this man, heauen doe so too; I will not touch thee so much as with shame Of telling it, let it be so no more. Why this is very fine. I cannot tell What tis you meane, but I am apt enough Rudely to thrust into ignorant fault, But let me know it, happily tis naught But misconstruction, and where I am cleare I will not take forgiuenesse of the gods, Much lesse of you. Nay if you stand so stiffe, I shall call back my mercy. I want smoothnes To thanke a man for pardoning of a crime I neuer knew. Not to instruct your knowledge, but to show you my eares are euery where, you meant to kill me, and get the fort to scape. Pardon me Sir, my bluntnesse will be pardoned, you preserue A race of idle people here about you, Facers, and talkers to defame the world Of those that doe things worthy, the man that vttered this Had perisht without food, bee't who it will, But for this arme that fenst him from the Foe. And if I thought you gaue a faith to this, The plainenese of my nature would speake more, Giue me a pardon, for you ought to doo't To kill him that spake this. I that will be the end of all, Then I am fairely paide for all my care and seruice. That old man, who calls my enemy, and of whom I (Though I will neuer match my hate so low,) Haue no good thought, would yet I thinke excuse me, And sweare he thought me wrong'd in this. Who I, thou shamelesse Fellow that hast spoke to me Of it thy selfe. O then it came from him. From me, who should it come from but from me? Nay I beleeue your malice is enough, But I ha lost my anger, Sir I hope You are well satisfied. Licip: cheare Amintor and his Lady, theres no sound Comes from you, I will come and doo't my selfe. You haue done all ready Sir for me I thanke you. Melantius I doe credit this from him, How sleight so ere you mak't. Tis strange you should. Tis strang a should beleeue an old mans word, That neuer lied ins life.