Philaster, or Love Lies a-Bleeding · chunk 31 of 40
Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1620 · first performed or written 1609 [May(?)] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I have done ill, my conscience calls me false, To strike at her that would not strike at me, When I did fight, methought I heard her pray, The gods to guard me, she may be abused, And I a loathed villain if she be, she will conceal Who hurt her, he has wounds, and cannot follow, Neither knows he me. Who's this? Bellario sleeping, If thou be'st guilty, there is no justice that thy sleep Should be so sound, and mine whom thou hast wronged, So broken. Hark I am pursued, you gods I'll take This offered means of my escape. They have no mark to know me, but my blood, If she be true, if false, let mischief Light on all the world at once. Sword print my wounds upon his sleeping body, He has none I think are mortal, Nor would I lay greater on thee. O! death I hope is come, blessed be that hand, it wished me well again for pity. I have caught myself, The loss of blood hath stayed my flight here, Here is he that struck thee, take thy full revenge, Use me as I did mean thee, worse than death: I'll teach thee to revenge. This luckless hand Wounded the Princess, tell my followers, thou Didst receive these hurts in staying me, And I will second thee: get a reward. Hide, hide my Lord, and save yourself. How is this? wouldst thou I should be safe? Else it were vain for me to live. These wounds I have, has not bled much, Reach me that noble hand, I'll help to cover you. Art thou then true to me? Or let me perish loathed: Come my Lord, Creep in amongst these bushes, who does know But that the gods may save your breath in't, Shromd, Then I shall die for grief, if not for this, That I have wounded thee: What wilt thou do? Shift for myself: Well, peace, I hear 'em come. Follow, follow, that way they went. With my own wounds I'll bloody my own sword, I need not counterfeit to fall, heaven knows, I can stand no longer. To this place I tracked him by his blood. Yonder my Lord, creeps one away. Stay sir, what are you? A wretched creature, wounded in these woods by beasts, Relieve me, if your names be men, Or I shall perish. This is he my Lord, upon my soul that hurt her, It is the boy, that wicked boy, that served her. O thou damned in thy creation, what cause couldst thou shape to strike the Princess? Then I am betrayed, Betrayed, no, apprehended. I confess, urge it no more, that big with evil thoughts, I set upon her, and did make my aim her death: For charity let fall at once, the punishment you mean. And do not load this weary flesh with torture, I will know who hired thee to this deed.
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)
I haue done ill, my conscience cals me false, To strike at her that would not strike at me, When I did fight, me thought I heard her pray, The gods to guard me, she may be abus'd, And I a loathed villaine if she be, she will conceale Who hurt her, he has wounds, and cannot follow, Neither knowes he me. Who's this? Bellario sleeping, If thou be'st guilty, there is no iustice that thy sleepe Should be so sound, and mine whom thou hast wrong'd, So broken. Harke I am pursu'd, you gods I'le take This offerd meanes of my escape. They haue no marke to know me, but my blood, If she be true, if false, let mischiefe Light on all the world at once. Sword print my wounds vpon his sleeping body, He has none I thinke are mortall, Nor would I lay greater on thee. O! death I hope is come, blest be that hand, it wisht me well againe for pittie. I haue caught my selfe, The losse of blood hath stayed my flight here, Here is he that strooke thee, take thy full reuenge, Vse me as I did meane thee, worse then death: I'le teach thee to reuenge. This lucklesse hand Wounded the Princesse, tell my followers, thou Didst receiue these hurts in staying me, And I will second thee: get a reward. Hide, hide my Lord, and saue your selfe. How is this? wouldst thou I should be safe? Else it were vaine for me to liue. These wounds I haue, has not bled much, Reach me that noble hand, I'le helpe to couer you. Art thou then true to me? Or let me perish loath'd: Come my Lord, Creepe in amongst these bushes, who dos know But that the gods may saue your breeth in't, Shromd, Then I shall die for griefe, if not for this, That I haue wounded thee: What wilt thou do? Shift for my selfe: Well, peace, I heare vm come. Follow, follow, that way they went. With my owne wounds I'le bloudy my owne sword, I neede not counterfeit to fall, heauen knowes, I can stand no longer. To this place I tract him by his blood. Yonder my Lord, creepes one away. Stay sir, what are you? A wretched creature, wounded in these woods by beasts, Releeue me, if your names be men, Or I shall perish. This is he my Lord, vpon my soule that hurt her, It is the boy, that wicked boy, that seru'd her. O thou damn'd in thy creation, what cause couldst thou shape to strike the Princesse? Then I am betrayd, Betrayd, no, apprehended. I confesse, vrge it no more, that big with euill thoughts, I set vpon her, and did make my ayme her death: For charity let fall at once, the punishment you meane. And do not load this weary flesh with tortour, I will know who hir'd thee to this deed.