The Misfortunes of Arthur (Certain Devices and Shows Presented to Her Majesty) · chunk 5 of 35
Hughes, Thomas / Fulbecke, William · published 1587 · first performed or written 1588 [Feb 28] (Annals) tragedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
THE hour which erst I always feared most, The certain ruin of my desperate state, Is happened now: why turnst thou (mind) thy back? Why at the first assault dost thou recoil? Trust to't: the angry Heavens contrive some spite, And dreadful doom, t'augment thy cursed hap. Oppose to each revenge thy guilty head, And shun no pain nor plague fit for thy fact. What shouldst thou fear, that seést not what to hope? No danger's left before, all's at thy back. He safely stands, that stands beyond his harms. Thine (death) is all, that East, or West can see, For thee we live, our coming is not long, Spare us, but whiles we may prepare our graves, Though thou wert slow, we hasten of ourselves. The hour that gave, did also take our lives: No sooner men, then mortal were we borne. I see mine end draws on, I feel my plagues. No plague for one ill borne, to die as ill. O Queen! my sweet associate in this plunge, And desperate plight, behold, the time is come, That either justifies our former faults, Or shortly sets us free from every fear. My fear is past, and wedlock love hath won. Retire we thither yet, whence first we ought Not to have stirred. Call back chaste faith again. The way, that leads to good, is ne'er to late: Who so repents, is guiltless of his crimes. What means this course? Is Arthur's wedlock safe? Or can he love, that hath just cause to hate? That nothing else were to be feared: Is most apparent, that he hates at home, whate'er he be, whose fancy strays abroad? Think then, our love is not unknown to him: Whereof what patience can be safely hoped? Nor love, nor sovereignty can bear a peer. Why dost thou still stir up my flames delayed? His strays and errors must not move my mind. A law for private men binds not the King. What, that I ought not to condemn my liege, Nor can, thus guilty to mine own offence? Where both have done amiss, both will relent. He will forgive, that needs must be forgiven. A likely thing▪ your faults must make you friends: What sets you both at odds, must join you both: Think well he casts already for revenge, And how to plague us both. I know his law, A judge severe to us, mild to himself. What then avails you to return to late, When you have passed to far? You feed vain hopes. The further passed, the more this fault is yours: It served your turn, t'usurp your father's Crown. His is the crime, whom crime stands most in stead. They, that conspire in faults offend a like: Crime makes them equal, whom it jointly stains. If for my sake you then partook my guilt, You cannot guiltless seem, the crime was joint.
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)
THE houre which earst I alwaies feared most, The certaine ruine of ny desperate state, Is happened now: why turnst thou (minde) thy back? Why at the first assault doest thou recoile? Trust to't: the angry Heauens contriue some spight, And dreadfull doome, t'augment thy cursed hap. Oppose to ech reuenge thy guiltie heade, And shun no paine nor plague fit for thy fact. What shouldst thou feare, that seést not what to hope? No danger's left before, all's at thy backe. He safely stands, that stands beyond his harmes. Thine (death) is all, that East, or West can seé, For theé we liue, our comming is not long, Spare vs, but whiles we may prepare our graues, Though thou wert sowe, we hasten of our selues. The houre that gaue, did also take our liues: No sooner men, then mortall were we borne. I seé mine end drawes on, I feéle my plagues. No plague for one ill borne, to dye as ill. O Queéne! my sweéte associate in this plunge, And desperate plight, beholde, the time is come, That either iustifies our former faults, Or shortly sets vs freé from euery feare. My feare is past, and wedlock loue hath woonne. Retire we thither yet, whence first we ought Not to haue stird. Call backe chast faith againe. The way, that leads to good, is ne'r to late: Who so repents, is guiltlesse of his crimes. What meanes this course? Is Arthurs wedlocke safe? Or can he loue, that hath iust cause to hate? That nothing else were to be feard: Is most apparant, that he hates at home, What e'r he be, whose fansie strayes abroad? Thinke then, our loue is not vnknowen to him: Whereof what patience can be safely hopte? Nor loue, nor soueraignetie can beare a peére. Why dost thou still stirre vp my flames delayde? His strayes and errors must not moue my minde. A law for priuate men bindes not the King. What, that I ought not to condemne my liedge, Nor can, thus guiltie to myne owne offence? Where both haue done amisse, both will relent. He will forgiue, that neédes must be forgiuen. A likely thing▪ your faults must make you friends: What sets you both at odds, must ioine you both: Thinke well he casts already for reuenge, And how to plague vs both. I know his law, A Iudge seuere to vs, milde to himselfe. What then auailes you to returne to late, When you haue past to farre? You feéde vaine hopes. The further past, the more this fault is yours: It seru'd your turne, t'usurpe your fathers Crowne. His is the crime, whom crime stands most in steéde. They, that conspire in faults offend a like: Crime makes them equall, whom it iointly staines. If for my sake you then pertooke my guilt, You cannot guiltlesse seéme, the crime was ioint.