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Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: A Yorkshire Tragedy (Third Folio, 1664)

  • Copyright Digital Renaissance Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Authors: Thomas Middleton, William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    A Yorkshire Tragedy (Third Folio, 1664)

    Ser. Oh, I am scarce able to heave up my self,
    He has so bruis'd me with his devillish weight,
    585And torn my flesh with his bloud-hasty spur,
    A man before of easie constitution,
    Till now hells power supplied, to his souls wrong,
    Oh how damnation can make weak men strong.
    Enter Master and two servants.
    590 Ser. Oh the most pittious deed, sir, since you came.
    Mr. A deadly greeting; hath he sum'd up these
    To satisfie his brother? here's another,
    And by the bleeding infants, the dead mother.
    Wife. Oh, oh.
    595 Ma. Surgeons, Surgeons, she recovers life,
    One of his men all faint and bloudied.
    1. Ser. Follow, our murderous Master has took
    Horse to kill his child at nurse, oh follow quickly.
    Ma. I am the readiest, it shall be my charge
    600To raise the Town upon him.
    Exit Master and Servants.
    1. Ser. Good sir follow him.
    Wife. Oh my children.
    1. Ser. How is it my most afflicted Mistress?
    605 Wife. Why do I now recover? why half live?
    To see my children bleed before mine eyes,
    A sight, able to kill a Mothers breast without an Execu-
    tioner; what, art thou mangled too?
    1. Ser. I thinking to prevent what his quick mischiefs
    610had so soon acted, came and rusht upon him,
    We strugled, but a fouler strength then his
    Ore-threw me with his armes, then he did bruise me,
    And rent my flesh, and rob'd me of my hair,
    Like a man mad in execution,
    615Made me unfit to rise and follow him.
    Wife. What is it hath beguil'd him of all grace?
    And stole away humanity from his breast,
    To slay his children, purposed to kill his wife,
    And spoil his servants.
    620Enter two Servants.
    Both. Please you leave this accursed place,
    A Surgeon waits within.
    Wife. Willing to leave it;
    'Tis guilty of sweet bloud, innocent bloud,
    625Murder hath took this chamber with full hands,
    And will not out as long as the house stands.Exeunt.