Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil typicality 0.84 · 509 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
Yes. Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the Law by th' nose, When he would force it? Sure it is no sin, Or of the deadly seven it is the least. Which is the least? If it were damnable, he being so wise, Why would he for the momentary trick Be perdurablie fin'de? Oh Isabella. What says my brother? Death is a fearful thing. And shamed life, a hateful. I, but to die, and go we know not where, To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot, This sensible warm motion, to become A kneaded clod; And the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling Region of thicke-ribbed Ice, To be imprisoned in the viewless winds And blown with restless violence round about The pendant world: or to be worse than worst Of those, that lawless and incertain thought, Imagine howling, 'tis too horrible. The weariest, and most loathed worldly life That Age, Ache, perjury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a Paradise To what we fear of death. Alas, alas. Sweet Sister, let me live. What sin you do, to save a brother's life, Nature dispenses with the deed so far, That it becomes a virtue. Oh you beast, Oh faithless Coward, oh dishonest wretch, Wilt thou be made a man, out of my vice? Is't not a kind of Incest, to take life From thine own sister's shame? What should I think, Heaven shield my Mother played my Father fair: For such a warped slip of wilderness Near issued from his blood. Take my defiance, Die, perish: Might but my bending down Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed. I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, No word to save thee. Nay hear me Isabella. Oh fie, fie, fie: Thy sin's's not accidental, but a Trade; Mercy to thee would prove itself a Bawd, 'Tis best that thou diest quickly. Oh hear me Isabel. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. What is your Will. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewise your own benefit. I have no superfluous leisure, my stay must be stolen out of other affairs: but I will attend you a while. Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you & your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an assay of her virtue, to practise his judgement with the disposition of natures. She (having the truth of honour in her) hath made him that gracious denial, which he is most glad to receive: I am Confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true, therefore prepare yourself to death: do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible, to morrow you must die, go to your knees, and make ready. Let me ask my sister pardon, I am so out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it.
seed 43: T37 · seed 44: T36 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Yes. Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the Law by th' noſe, When he would force it? Sure it is no ſinne, Or of the deadly ſeuen it is the leaſt. Which is the leaſt? If it were damnable, he being ſo wiſe, Why would he for the momentarie tricke Be perdurablie fin'de? Oh Iſabell. What ſaies my brother? Death is a fearefull thing. And ſhamed life, a hatefull. I, but to die, and go we know not where, To lie in cold obſtruction, and to rot, This ſenſible warme motion, to become A kneaded clod; And the delighted ſpirit To bath in fierie floods, or to recide In thrilling Region of thicke-ribbed Ice, To be impriſon'd in the viewleſſe windes And blowne with reſtleſſe violence round about The pendant world: or to be worſe then worſt Of thoſe, that lawleſſe and incertaine thought, Imagine howling, 'tis too horrible. The wearieſt, and moſt loathed worldly life That Age, Ache, periury, and impriſonment Can lay on nature, is a Paradiſe To what we feare of death. Alas, alas. Sweet Siſter, let me liue. What ſinne you do, to ſaue a brothers life, Nature diſpenſes with the deede ſo farre, That it becomes a vertue. Oh you beaſt, Oh faithleſſe Coward, oh diſhoneſt wretch, Wilt thou be made a man, out of my vice? Is't not a kinde of Inceſt, to take life From thine owne ſiſters ſhame? What ſhould I thinke, Heauen ſhield my Mother plaid my Father faire: For ſuch a warped ſlip of wilderneſſe Nere iſſu'd from his blood. Take my defiance, Die, periſh: Might but my bending downe Repreeue thee from thy fate, it ſhould proceede. Ile pray a thouſand praiers for thy death, No word to ſaue thee. Nay heare me Iſabell. Oh fie, fie, fie: Thy ſinn's not accidentall, but a Trade; Mercy to thee would proue it ſelfe a Bawd, 'Tis beſt that thou dieſt quickly. Oh heare me Iſabella. Vouchſafe a word, yong ſiſter, but one word. What is your Will. Might you diſpenſe with your leyſure, I would by and by haue ſome ſpeech with you: the ſatiſfaction I would require, is likewiſe your owne benefit. I haue no ſuperfluous leyſure, my ſtay muſt be ſtolen out of other affaires: but I will attend you a while. Son, I haue ouer-heard what hath paſt between you & your ſiſter. Angelo had neuer the purpoſe to corrupt her; onely he hath made an aſſay of her vertue, to practiſe his iudgement with the diſpoſition of natures. She (hauing the truth of honour in her) hath made him that gracious deniall, which he is moſt glad to receiue: I am Confeſſor to Angelo, and I know this to be true, therfore prepare your ſelfe to death: do not ſatisfie your reſolution with hopes that are fallible, to morrow you muſt die, goe to your knees, and make ready. Let me ask my ſiſter pardon, I am ſo out of loue with life, that I will ſue to be rid of it.