Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1639 · first performed or written 1639 [c.1617-1639] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Anne's Men (?) unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
These eyes did see him; and faith Lady, say If you should meet that worst of villains here, That Treacher, Monster; what would you attempt? His speedy death, I should forget all mercy, Had I but means fully to express my vengeance. You would not, Queen. No? by these infant's tears That weep for hunger, I would throughly do't. See yonder he comes. Oh where? Here, take my sword, Are you yet constant? shame your Sex and be so; will you do't? I see him not. Strike him through his guilt and treachery And let him see the horrors of his perjured soul, Are you ready? Pray let me see him first. You see him now— now do't. Lapirus! Oh fortunate revenge! now all thy villainies Shall be at once requited, thy country's ruin The King thy Uncle's sorrow, my own miseries, Shall at this minute all one vengeance meet. Alas, he doth submit, prays, and relents, Who could wish more? none made from woman can, Small glory 'twere to kill a kneeling man: When he in penitent sighs his soul commends Thou send'st him to the Gods, thyself to th' fiends: But harken to thy piteous infant's cries, And theyare for vengeance, peace then, now he dies. Ingrateful woman, he delivered thee From ravishment, canst thou his murderess be? What's riches to thy honours? that rare treasure Which worlds redeem not, yet 'tis lost at pleasure. Kill him that preserved that? and in thy rescue His noble rage so manfully behaved: Rise, rise, he that repents is ever saved. Will misery yet a longer life afford; To see a Queen so poor, not worth her word? I am better than my word, my word was death. Man's never past grief, till he be past his breath. I pardon all Lapyrus. Do not do't. And only to one penance I enjoin thee For all thy faults past, while we here remain Within this Forest, this thy task shall be, To procure succour to my Babes and me. And if I fail may the earth swallow me. thouart now grown good, here could I ever dwell, Were the old King, my husband safe and well. Come, come, drive away these fits, faith I'll have thee merry. As your son and heir at his father's funeral Thou seest my sister constantly affects thee. There were no mirth nor music else for me. Sir in this Castle the old King my father o'erworn with jealousy keeps his beauteous wife, I think thou never sawst her. No, not I. Why then thy judgements fresh, I'll visit her On purpose for thy censure. I speak my affection. Nay on my knowledge she's worth Jealousy, Though Jealousy be far unworthy a King. My loved Lord? How cheers the Queen? Have I not seen this fellow before now? He has an excellent presence for a Pander, I know not his office.
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)
These eyes did see him; and faith Lady, say If you should meete that worst of villaines here, That Treacher, Monster; what would you attempt? His speedy death, I should forget all mercy, Had I but meanes fully to expresse my vengeance. You would not, Queene. No? by these Infants teares That weepe for hunger, I would throughly doe't. See yonder he comes. Oh wherē? Here, take my sword, Are you yet constant? shame your Sex and be so; will you do't? I see him not. Strike him through his guilt and trechery And let him see the horrors of his perjur'd soule, Are you ready? Pray let me see him first. You see him now — now do't. Lapirus! Oh fortunate revenge! now all thy villanies Shall be at once requited, thy countries ruine The King thy Vncles sorrow, my owne miseries, Shall at this minute all one vengeance meete. Alas, he doth submit, prayes, and relents, Who could wish more? none made from woman can, Small glory 'twere to kill a kneeling man: When he in penitent sighes his soule commends Thou send'st him to the Gods, thy selfe to th' fiends: But hearken to thy piteous Infants cryes, And th'are for vengeance, peace then, now he dyes. Ingratefull woman, he delivered thee From ravishment, canst thou his murthresse be? What's riches to thy honours? that rare treasure Which worlds redeeme not, yet tis lost at pleasure. Kill him that preserv'd that? and in thy rescue His noble rage so manfully behav'd: Rise, rise, he that repents is ever sav'd. Will misery yet a longer life afford; To see a Queene so poore, not worth her word? I am better than my word, my word was death▪ Man's nere past griefe, till he be past his breath. I pardon all Lapyrus. Doe not do't. And onely to one penance I enjoyne thee For all thy faults past, while we here remaine Within this Forrest, this thy taske shall bee, To procure succour to my Babes and me. And if I faile may the earth swallow me. Th'art now growne good, here could I ever dwell, Were the old King, my husband safe and well. Come, come, drive away these fits, faith Ile have thee merry. As your son and heire at his fathers funerall Thou seest my sister constantly affects thee. There were no mirth nor musicke else for me. Sir in this Castle the old King my father Ore-worne with jealousie keepes his beauteous wife, I thinke thou never saw'st her. No, not I. Why then thy judgements fresh, Ile visite her On purpose for thy censure. I speake my affection. Nay on my knowledge she's worth Jealousie▪ Though Jealousie be farre unworthy a King. My lov'd Lord? How cheares the Queene? Have I not seene this fellow before now? He has an excellent presence for a Pander, I know not his office.