The Royal King and the Loyal Subject · chunk 34 of 39
Heywood, Thomas · published 1637 · first performed or written 1602 [1602-1618] (Annals) romance · Unknown T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation typicality 0.80 · 498 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
And why so sad my Lord? I am all dulness, There's no life in me, I have lost my spirit, And fluence of my brain: observe you not In what a height you fellow now resides That was so late dejected; trebly grafted Into the Royal blood? what can succeed, But that we all our honours must resign, And he of them be repossessed again? The Marriages indeed are celebrated. And they have all our pointed stratagems Turned back upon ourselves. What, no prevention? His Bases are so fixed he cannot shrink, Being so many ways engraft and planted In the king's blood: but our supporters stand As shaked with Earthquakes, or else built on sand. My Lords attend the King, and clear this chamber, For this nights revels 'tis the place prepared. Your duties Lords, the King's upon his entrance. ay, so 'tmust be, each man hand his own: For I am where I love; we are even coupled, Some Music then. Here's one falls off from me. How now my Lord, dejected in your looks? Or doth our sports distaste you? Pardon me, I cannot dance my Liege. You can look on: My Lord, you take his place, we'll have a measure, And I will lead it; bid the Music strike. So, well done Ladies: but we miss the Husband To our fair Daughter, what's become of him? Gone discontented hence. What might this mean? Doth he distaste his Bride, or envy us That are degreed above him? where's our Queen? My Liege? You shall unto him instantly, Attended with a beauteous train of Ladies, And to his Chamber bear his princely Bride. Bonvile, take you her royal Dower along, You shall receive it of our Treasurer. I shall my Lord. Usher the Queen and Ladies, be their guide, That done, each one to bed with his fair Bride. I am so high, that when I look but down, To see how far the earth is under me, It quakes my body, and quite chills my blood: And in my fear although I stand secure, I am like him that falls. I but a subject, And married to the Daughter of the King, Though some may think me happy in this match, To me 'tis fearful: who would have a wife Above him in command, to embrace with awe, Whom to displease, is to distaste the King? It is to have a Mistress, not a wife, A Queen, and not a subject's bedfellow. State I could wish abroad to crown my head, But never yet loved Empire in my bed. The Queen your daughter with your princely Bride, And other Ladies, make way towards your chamber. 'Tis open to receive them, pray them in. My Lord the King commends his love to you In your fair Bride, whom royally conducted He hath sent to be the partner of your bed. Whom we receive in the arms of gratitude, Duty to him, and nuptial love to her.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T9 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And why so sad my Lord? I am all dulnesse, There's no life in me, I have lost my spirit, And fluence of my braine: observe you not In what a height you fellow now resides That was so late dejected; trebly grafted Into the Royall blood? what can succeed, But that we all our honours must resigne, And he of them be repossest againe? The Marriages indeed are celebrated. And they have all our pointed stratagems Turn'd backe upon our selves. What, no prevention? His Basses are so fixt he cannot shrinke, Being so many wayes ingrast and planted In the Kings blood: but our supporters stand As shak't with Earthquakes, or else built on sand. My Lords attend the King, and cleare this chamber, For this nights revells 'tis the place prepar'd. Your duties Lords, the King's upon his entrance. Ey, so 'tmust be, each man hand his owne: For I am where I love; we are even coupled, Some Musicke then. Here's one falls off from me. How now my Lord, dejected in your looks? Or doth our sports distaste you? Pardon me, I cannot dance my Liege. You can looke on: My Lord, you take his place, wee'le have a measure, And I will lead it; bid the Musicke stricke. So, well done Ladies: but we misse the Husband To our faire Daughter, what's become of him? Gone discontented hence. What might this meane? Doth he distaste his Bride, or envy us That are degree'd above him? where's our Queene? My Liege? You shall unto him instantly, Attended with a beauteous traine of Ladies, And to his Chamber beare his princely Bride. Bonvile, take you her royall Dower along, You shall receive it of our Treasurer. I shall my Lord. Vsher the Queene and Ladies, be their guide, That done, each one to bed with his faire Bride. I am so high, that when I looke but downe, To see how farre the earth is under me, It quakes my body, and quite chills my blood: And in my feare although I stand secure, I am like him that falls. I but a subject, And married to the Daughter of the King, Though some may thinke me happy in this match, To me 'tis fearefull: who would have a wife Above him in command, to imbrace with awe, Whom to displease, is to distaste the King? It is to have a Mitris, not a wife, A Queene, and not a subjects bed-fellow. State I could wish abroad to crowne my head, But never yet lov'd Empire in my bed. The Queene your daughter with your princely Bride, And other Ladies, make way towards your chamber. 'Tis open to receive them, pray them in. My Lord the King commends his love to you In your faire Bride, whom royally conducted He hath sent to be the partner of your bed. Whom we receive in the armes of gratitude, Duty to him, and nuptiall love to her.