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 0.85 · 478 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Thou dost not mean this, 'tis impossible, Thou art too sweet and gentle. No I am not, I am as foul as thou art, and can number As many such hells here: I was once fair, Once I was lovely, not a blowing rose More chastened sweet, till thou, thou, thou foul canker, (Stir not) didst poison me, I was a world of virtue, Till your cursed Court and you (hell bless you for't) With your temptations on temptations Made me give up mine honour, for which (King) I am come to kill thee. No. I am. Thou art not. I prithee speak not these things, thou art gentle, And wert not meant thus rugged. Peace and hear me. Stir nothing but your tongue, and that for mercy, To those above us, by whose lights I vow, Those blessed fires, that shot to see our sin, If thy hot soul had substance with thy blood, I would kill that too, which being past my steel, My tongue shall reach: Thou art a shameless villain, A thing out of the overcharge of nature, Sent like a thick cloud to disperse a plague Upon weak catching women, such a tyrant, That for his lust would sell away his subjects, I all his heaven hereafter. Hear Euadne, Thou soul of sweetness, hear, I am thy King. Thou art my shame, lie still, there's none about you Within your cries, all promises of safety Are but deluding dreams, thus, thus thou foul man, Thus I begin my vengeance. Hold Euadne, I do command thee, hold. I do not mean Sir To part so fairly with you, we must change More of these love-tricks yet. What bloody villainy Provoked thee to this murder? Thou, thou monster. Oh. Thou keptst me brave at Court, and whored me, King, Then married me to a young noble Gentleman, And whored me still. Euadne, pity me. Hell take me then, this for my Lord Amintor, This for my noble brother, and this stroke For the most wronged of women. Oh I die. Die all our faults together, I forgive thee. Come now she's gone, let's enter, the King expects it, and will be angry. 'tis a fine wench, we'll have a snap at her one of these nights as she goes from him. Content: how quickly he had done with her, I see Kings can do no more that way then other mortal people. How fast he is! I cannot hear him breath. Either the tapers give a feeble light, or he looks very pale. Let's look: Alas, he's stiff, wounded and dead. Treason. Run forth and call. Treason, treason. This will be laid on us: who can believe A woman could do this? How now? where's the traitor? Fled, fled away, but there her woeful act Lies still. Her act! a woman! Where's the body? There.
nodes 2274–2343 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 36 of 42 in this edition
Length
478 words · 646 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.855 (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)
Thou doest not meane this, tis impossible, Thou art too sweet and gentle. No I am not, I am as foule as thou art, and can number As many such hels here: I was once faire Once I was louely, not a blowing rose More chastly sweet, till thou, thou, thou foule canker, (Stirre not) didst poison me, I was a world of vertue, Till your curst Court and you (hell blesse you for') With your temptatios on temptations Made me giue vp mine honour, for which (King) I am come to kill thee. No. I am. Thou art not. I prethee speake not these things, thou art gentle, And wrt not meant thus rugged. Peace and heare me. Stirre nothing but your tongue, and that for mercy, To those aboue vs, by whose lights I vow, Those blessed fires, that shot to see our sinne, If thy hot soule had substance with thy bloud, I would kill that too, which being past my steele, My tongue shall reach: Thou art a shamelesse villaine, A thing out of the ouercharge of nature, Sent like a thicke cloud to disperse a plague Vpon weake catching women, such a tyrant, That for his lust would sell away his subiects, I all his heauen hereafter. Heare Euadne, Thou soule of sweetnesse, heare, I am thy King. Thou art my shame, lie still, theres none about you Within your cries, all promises of safetie Are but deluding dreames, thus, thus thou foule man, Thus I begin my vengeance. Hold Euadne, I doe command thee, hold. I doe not meane Sir To part so fairely with you, we must change More of these loue-trickes yet. What bloudie villanie Prouok't thee to this murther? Thou, thou monster. Oh. Thou keptst me braue at Court, and whorde me, King, Then married me to a young noble Gentleman, And whorde me still. Euadne, pittie me. Hell take me then, this for my Lord Amintor, This for my noble brother, and this stroke For the most wrongd of women. Oh I die. Die all our faults together, I forgiue thee. Come now shees gone, lets enter, the King expects it, and will be angry. Tis a fine wench, weele haue a snap at her one of these nights as she goes from him. Content: how quickly he had done with her, I see Kings can doe no more that way then other mortall people. How fast he is! I cannot heare him breathe. Either the tapers giue a feeble light, or he lookes very pale. Lets looke: Alas, hees stiffe, wounded and dead. Treason. Run forth and call. Treason, treason. This will be laid on vs: who can beleeue A woman could doe this? How now? wheres the traitor? Fled, fled away, but there her wofull act Lies still. Her act! a woman! Wheres the body? There.