Randolph, Thomas · published 1632 · first performed or written 1632 [Mar 20] (Annals) comedy · before the Court T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.83 · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Bear me witness, heaven! I used no force of Rhetoric, no persuasions (whate'er the wicked and malicious world May rashly censure) to instigate these two To their own deaths. I knew not of the plot, All of you know that I am ignorant. Where is my love? shall sorrow rival me, And hang about thy neck? If grief be got Into thy cheeks, I'll clap it out.— Dear chicken. You sha'not be so sad, indeed you sha'not. Be merry: by this kiss I'll make you merry. Then wipe my eyes.— Thus when the clouds are gone, The day again is gilded by the sun. WHo's within here? What's the matter without there? What art thou? The last of tailors, Sir, that ne'er take measure of you, while you have hope to wear a new suit. How dost thou live? As worms do:— by the dead. A witty rascal. Let's have some discourse with him. Are any soldiers bones in garrison here? Faith, Sir, but few: they like poor travellers Take up their inn by chance: but some there be. Do not those warlike bones in dead of night Rise up in arms, and with tumultuous broils Waken the dormice that dull peace hath lulled Into a lethargy?— Dost not hear 'em knock Against their coffins, till they crack and break The marble into shivers that entombs 'em? Making the temple shake as with an earthquake, And all the statues of the gods grow pale, Affrighted with the horror? No such matter. Do they not call for arms? and fright thee, mortal, Out of thy wits? Do they not break the legs, And crush the skulls that dare approach too near Their honoured graves?— When I shall come to dwell In your dark family, if a noisome carcase Offend my nostrils with too rank a scent, Know— I shall rage— and quarrel,— till I fright The poor inhabitants of the charnel house: That here shall run a toe, a shinbone there: Here creeps a hand, there trolls an arm away. One way a crooked rib shall halting high, Another you shall trundling find a skull. Like the distracted citizens of a town Beleaguered,— and in danger to be taken. For heaven's sake, Sexton, lay my quiet bones By some precise religious officer, One that will keep the peace.— These roaring captains With blustering words and language full of dread, Will make me quit my tomb, and run away Wrapped in my winding sheet,— as if grim Minos, Stern Aeacus, and horrid Rhadamanth Enjoined the corpse a penance. Never fear it. This was a captain's skull, one that carried a storm in his countenance, and a tempest in his tongue. The great bugbear of the city, that threw drawers down the stairs as familiarly as quart-pots; and had a pension from the barber-chirurgeons for breaking of pates. A fellow that had ruined the noses of more bawds and panders, than the disease belonging to the trade.— And yet I remember when he went to burial, another corpse took the wall of him, and the bandog ne'er grumbled.
nodes 2089–2144 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 32 of 47 in this edition
Length
515 words · 694 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.835 (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)
Beare me witnesse, heaven! I us'd no force of Rhetorick, no perswasions (What e're the wicked and malicious world May rashly censure) to instigate these two To their own deaths. I knew not of the plot, All of you know that I am ignorant. Where is my love? shall sorrow rivall me, And hang about thy neck? If grief be got Into thy cheeks, I'le clap it out. —Deare chicken. You sha'not be so sad, indeed you sha'not. Be merry: by this kisse I'le make you merry. Then wipe my eyes.—Thus when the clouds are gone, The day again is gilded by the sunne. WHo's within here? What's the matter without there? What art thou? The last of tailours, Sir, that ne're take measure of you, while you have hope to weare a new suit. How dost thou live? As worms do: —by the dead. A witty rascall. Let's have some discourse with him. Are any souldiers bones in garrison here? Faith, Sir, but few: they like poore travellers Take up their inne by chance: but some there be. Do not those warlike bones in dead of night Rise up in arms, and with tumultuous broyls Waken the dormise that dull peace hath lull'd Into a lethargie?—Dost not heare 'um knock Against their coffins, till they crack and break The marble into shivers that intombes 'um? Making the temple shake as with an earthquake, And all the statues of the gods grow pale, Affrighted with the horrour? No such matter. Do they not call for arms? and fright thee, mortall, Out of thy wits? Do they not break the legs, And crush the skuls that dare approach too neare Their honour'd graves? —When I shall come to dwell In your dark family, if a noysome carcase Offend my nostrils with too ranck a sent, Know—I shall rage—and quarrell,—till I fright The poore inhabitants of the charnell house: That here shall run a toe, a shin-bone there: Here creeps a hand, there trowles an arm away. One way a crooked rib shall halting hie, Another you shall trundling finde a skull. Like the distracted citizens of a town Beleaguer'd,—and in danger to be taken. For heavens sake, Sexton, lay my quiet bones By some precise religious officer, One that will keep the peace.—These roaring captains With blustring words and language full of dread, Will make me quit my tombe, and run away Wrap't in my winding sheet,—as if grim Minos, Stern Aeacus, and horrid Rhadamanth Enjoyn'd the corps a penance. Never fear it. This was a captains skull, one that carried a storm in his countenance, and a tempest in his tongue. The great bug-beare of the citie, that threw drawers down the stairs as familiarly as quartpots; and had a pension from the Barbour-chirurgeons for breaking of pates. A fellow that had ruin'd the noses of more bawds and pandars, then the disease belonging to the trade. —And yet I remember when he went to buriall, another corse took the wall of him, and the ban-dog ne're grumbled.