Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men 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.
To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? O perilous mouths That bear in them, one and the selfsame tongue, Either of condemnation, or approof, Bidding the Law make curtsy to their will, Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite, To follow as it draws. I'll to my brother, Though he hath fall'n by prompture of the blood, Yet hath he in him such a mind of Honour, That had he twenty heads to tender down On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up, Before his sister should her body stoop, To such abhorred pollution. Then Isabella live chaste, and brother die; More than our Brother, is our Chastity. I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request, And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. So than you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo? The miserable have no other medicine But only hope: I have hope to live, and am prepared to die. Be absolute for death: either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art, Servile to all the skyie-influences, That dost this habitation where thou keep'st Hourly afflict: Merely, thou art death's fool, For him thou labourst by thy flight to shun, And yet run'st toward him still. Thou art not noble, For all th' accommodations that thou bear'st, Are nursed by baseness: Thou'rt by no means valiant, For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm: thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft prouoakst, yet grossly fearest Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself, For thou exists on many a thousand grains That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not, For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get, And what thou hast forgettest. Thou art not certain, For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the Moon: If thou art rich, thou'rt poor, For like an Ass, whose back with Ingots bows; Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee; Friend hast thou none. For thine own bowels which do call thee, fire The mere effusion of thy proper loins Do curse the Gout, Sapego, and the Rheum For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth, nor age But as it were an after-dinners sleep Dreaming on both, for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied-Eld: and when thou art old, and rich Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty To make thy riches pleasant: what's yet in this That bears the name of life? Yet in this life Lie hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear That makes these odds, all even. I humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find I seek to die, And seeking death, find life: Let it come on.
nodes 970–1029 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 18 of 43 in this edition
Length
497 words · 668 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.806 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
To whom ſhould I complaine? Did I tell this, Who would beleeue me? O perilous mouthes That beare in them, one and the ſelfeſame tongue, Either of condemnation, or approofe, Bidding the Law make curtſie to their will, Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite, To follow as it drawes. Ile to my brother, Though he hath falne by prompture of the blood, Yet hath he in him ſuch a minde of Honor, That had he twentie heads to tender downe On twentie bloodie blockes, hee'ld yeeld them vp, Before his ſiſter ſhould her bodie ſtoope, To ſuch abhord pollution. Then Iſabell liue chaſte, and brother die; "More then our Brother, is our Chaſtitie. Ile tell him yet of Angelo's requeſt, And fit his minde to death, for his ſoules reſt. So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo? The miſerable haue no other medicine But onely hope: I' haue hope to liue, and am prepar'd to die. Be abſolute for death: either death or life Shall thereby be the ſweeter. Reaſon thus with life: If I do looſe thee, I do looſe a thing That none but fooles would keepe: a breath thou art, Seruile to all the skyie-influences, That doſt this habitation where thou keepſt Hourely afflict: Meerely, thou art deaths foole, For him thou labourſt by thy flight to ſhun, And yet runſt toward him ſtill. Thou art not noble, For all th' accommodations that thou bearſt, Are nurſt by baſeneſſe: Thou'rt by no meanes valiant, For thou doſt feare the ſoft and tender forke Of a poore worme: thy beſt of reſt is ſleepe, And that thou oft prouoakſt, yet groſſelie fearſt Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thy ſelfe, For thou exiſts on manie a thouſand graines That iſſue out of duſt. Happie thou art not, For what thou haſt not, ſtill thou ſtriu'ſt to get, And what thou haſt forgetſt. Thou art not certaine, For thy complexion ſhifts to ſtrange effects, After the Moone: If thou art rich, thou'rt poore, For like an Aſſe, whoſe backe with Ingots bowes; Thou bearſt thy heauie riches but a iournie, And death vnloads thee; Friend haſt thou none. For thine owne bowels which do call thee, fire The meere effuſion of thy proper loines Do curſe the Gowt, Sapego, and the Rheume For ending thee no ſooner. Thou haſt nor youth, nor age But as it were an after-dinners ſleepe Dreaming on both, for all thy bleſſed youth Becomes as aged, and doth begge the almes Of palſied-Eld: and when thou art old, and rich Thou haſt neither heate, affection, limbe, nor beautie To make thy riches pleaſant: what's yet in this That beares the name of life? Yet in this life Lie hid moe thouſand deaths; yet death we feare That makes theſe oddes, all euen. I humblie thanke you. To ſue to liue, I finde I ſeeke to die, And ſeeking death, finde life: Let it come on.