Markham, Gervase / Sampson, William · published 1622 · first performed or written 1622 [c.1619-1622] (Annals) tragedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) · Red Bull T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.76 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
nowhere to be found. 'twas a strange desperate hazard. But a toy; They which dare do, dare suffer; desperate Soul, Do not play with more mischief; but confess, Where is the Poison, which thy treacherous Lord (Having for me provided) did convey Unto thy charge and keeping. Sir, I vow, There ne'er was any given me; neither had My Lord a thought so odious. Come 'tis false; Nor can you now outstrip me; to deny, Is but to add to sorrow; or confess, Or drink of more affliction. Madam, do; It will be too apparent, trust the King; I'll sue and beg your safety. 'tis advice Worthy your best embraces. Quickly speak; For I am sudden in my Cruelty. What shall I speak; but, that you're tyrannous, Thus to compel a falsehood; I protest, He never gave me any; nor know I Of any hidden Poison. Prepare her for the Torture: Shall my life Lie in these rotten Caskets, and not I Dare to consume or break them? Wretched thing, I'll make you speak louder than Tempests do; And true as Oracles; or else, believe't, He crack your strongest heartstrings: so, pull home; Stretch her out like a Lutestring. O, as you're a King have mercy; hold, O hold. Speak truth, or there's no mercy; higher yet. O, my weak strength cannot bear it; hold, O hold. I will confess and perish. Do it with truth there's safety, give her ease. I do confess the Poison; that my Lord Bequeathed it to my keeping; that it was Prepared to kill you: but (great Sir) Never by him. Who then became the Author? Sir, 'twas Antipater. Mischief on mischief, How came she by that knowledge? Antipater! how, from Antipater? Ere his departure unto Rome, he came And feasted with my Lord; declared his hopes; And that betwixt him and the Crown, did stand Nothing but your weak life, and great Augustus' favour: The latter got; the first he said should fall, And vanish in a moment; to which end, He had prepared that poison; and besought My Lord to keep it safely; for he meant At his return to use it. Can you tell by whose means he attained it? He bought it of the Iew Achitophel. What did you with that Poison? As my dead Lord commanded; on the ground I cast most part thereof; only some drops Left in the Viols bottom, with the Glass, (At her most strong entreaty) I bestowed On the Queen Alexandra. Take her down; This at the first had eased your misery: Ha Sir, Antipater; all this Antipater? O Heaven! But 'tis no wonder. Yes, that Truth Should thus come forth by Miracle; till now Mischief hath gone safe guarded: but, I hope, Your Highness will make use on't. Doubt me not. Here comes my second trouble: what the Iew? You have prevented sending for: false Queen, That hast disgraced thy Sex with Cruelty. What poison's in your keeping? Not any Sir. Not any: impudent?
nodes 2296–2374 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 34 of 44 in this edition
Length
501 words · 704 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.755 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
No where to be found. Twas a strange desperate hazard. But a toy; They which dare doe, dare suffer; desperate Soule, Doe not play with more mischiefe; but confesse, VVhere is the Poyson, which thy treacherous Lord (Hauing for me prouided) did conuay Vnto thy charge and keeping. Sir, I vow, There nere was any giuen me; neither had My Lord a thought so odious. Come tis false; Nor can you now outstrip me; to denye, Is but to adde to sorrow; or confesse, Or drinke of more affliction. Madam, doe; It will be too apparant, trust the King; Ile sue and begge your safety. Tis aduice Worthy your best imbraces. Quickly speake; For I am sodaine in my Cruelty. What shall I speake; but, that y'are tirannous, Thus to compell a falshood; I protest, He neuer gaue me any; nor know I Of any hidden Poyson. Prepare her for the Torture: Shall my life Lye in these rotten Caskets, and not I Dare to consume or breake them? Wretched thing, Ile make you speake louder then Tempests doe; And true as Oracles; or else, beleeu't, He cracke your strongest heart-strings: so, pull home; Stretch her out like a Lutestring. O, as y'are a King haue mercy; hold, O hold. Speake truth, or there's no mercy; higher yet. O, my weake strength cannot beare it; hold, O hold. I will confesse and perish. Doe it with truth there's safety, giue her ease. I doe confesse the Poyson; that my Lord Bequeath'd it to my keeping; that it was Prepar'd to kill you: but (great Sir) Neuer by him. Who then became the Author? Sir, 'twas Antipater. Mischiefe on mischiefe, How came shee by that knowledge? Antipat! how, from Antipater? Ere his departure vnto Rome, he came And feasted with my Lord; declar'd his hopes; And that betwixt him and the Crowne, did stand Nothing but your weake life, and great Augustus fauour: The latter got; the first he said should fall, And vanish in a moment; to which end, He had prepar'd that poyson; and besought My Lord to keepe it safely; for he meant At his returne to vse it. Can you tell by whose meanes he attaind it? He bought it of the Iew Achitophel. What did you with that Poyson? As my dead Lord commanded; on the grownd I cast most part thereof; only some drops Left in the Viols bottome, with the Glasse, (At her most strong intreaty) I bestow'd On the Queene Alexandra. Take her downe; This at the first had eas'd your misery: Ha Sir, Antipater; all this Antipater? O Heauen! But tis no wonder. Yes, that Truth Should thus come forth by Miracle; till now Mischiefe hath gone safe guarded: but, I hope, Your Highnesse vvill make vse on't. Doubt me not. Here comes my second trouble: vvhat the Iew? You haue preuented sending for: false Queene, That hast disgrac'd thy Sexe with Cruelty. What Poyson's in your keeping? Not any Sir. Not any: impudent?