The Spanish Tragedy (Hieronimo is Mad Again) · chunk 26 of 41
Kyd, Thomas · published 1592 · first performed or written 1587 [1585-1589; revised c.1597(?) and 1601-2] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
His highness and my Father were resolved, To come confer with old Hieronimo, Concerning certain matters of estate, That by the Viceroy was determined. And wherein was mine honour touched in that? Have patience Bel-imperia, hear the rest. Me next in sight as messenger they sent, To give him notice that they were so nigh: Now when I came consorted with the Prince, And unexpected in an Arbour there, Found Bel-imperia with Horatio. How than? Why then remembering that old disgrace, Which you for Don Andrea had endured, And now were likely longer to sustain, By being found so meanly accompanied: Thought rather, for I knew no readier mean, To thrust Horatio forth my father's way. And carry you obscurely somewhere else, lest that his highness should have found you there. even so my Lord, and you are witness, That this is true which he entreateth of. You (gentle brother) forged this for my sake, And you my Lord, were made his instrument: A work of worth, worthy the noting too. But what's the cause that you concealed me since? Your melancholy Sister since the news, Of your first favourite Don Andrea's death, My Father's old wrath hath exasperate. And better was't for you being in disgrace, To absent yourself and give his fury place. But why had I no notice of his ire? That were to add more fuel to your fire. Who burned like Aetna for Andrea's loss. Hath not my Father then enquired for me? Sister he hath, and thus excused I thee. But Bel-imperia, see the gentle prince, Look on thy love, behold young Balthazar. Whose passions by thy presence are increased, And in whose melancholy thou mayest see, Thy hate, his love: thy flight, his following thee. Brother you are become an Orator, I know not I, by what experience, Too politic for me, past all compare, Since last I saw you, but content yourself, The Prince is meditating higher things, 'tis of thy beauty then that conquers Kings. Of those thy tresses Ariadne's twines, Where with my liberty thou hast surprised. Of that thine ivory front my sorrows map, Wherein I see no haven to rest my hope. To love, and fear, and both at once my Lord, In my conceit, are things of more import, Than women's wits are to be busied with. 'tis I that love. Whom? Bel-imperia. But I that fear. Whom? Bel-imperia. Fear yourself? I brother. How? As those, that what they love, are loath, and fear to lose. Then fair, let Balthazar your keeper be, No, Balthazar doth fear as well as we. Est tremulo metui pavidum iunxere timorem, Et vanum stolidae proditionis opus. Nay, and you argue things so cunningly, we'll go continue this discourse at Court, Led by the lodestar of her heavenly looks, Wends poor oppressed Balthazar, As o'er the mountains walks the wanderer, Incertain to effect his Pilgrimage. By your leave Sir. Good leave have you, nay, I pray you go, For i'll leave you, if you can leave me so.
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)
His highnes and my Father were resolu'd, To come conferre with olde Hieronimo, Concerning certaine matters of estate, That by the Viceroy was determined. And wherein was mine honour toucht in that? Haue patience Bel-imperia, heare the rest. Me next in sight as messenger they sent, To giue him notice that they were so nigh: Now when I came consorted with the Prince, And vnexpected in an Arbour there, Found Bel-imperia with Horatio. How than? Why then remembring that olde disgrace, Which you for Don Andrea had indurde, And now were likely longer to sustaine, By being found so meanely accompanied: Thought rather, for I knew no readier meane, To thrust Horatio forth my fathers way. And carry you obscurely some where els, Least that his highnes should haue found you there. Euen so my Lord, and you are witnesse, That this is true which he entreateth of. You (gentle brother) forged this for my sake, And you my Lord, were made his instruement: A worke of worth, worthy the noting too. But whats the cause that you concealde me since? Your melancholly Sister since the newes, Of your first fauourite Don Andreas death, My Fathers olde wrath hath exasperate. And better wast for you being in disgrace, To absent your selfe and giue his fury place. But why had I no notice of his ire? That were to adde more fewell to your fire. Who burnt like Atn for Andreas losse. Hath not my Father then enquirde for me? Sister he hath, and thus excusde I thee. But Bel-imperia, see the gentle prince, Looke on thy loue, beholde yong Balthazar. Whose passions by thy presence are increast, And in whose melanchollie thou maiest see, Thy hate, his loue: thy flight, his following thee. Brother you are become an Oratour, I know not I, by what experience, Too pollitick for me, past all compare, Since last I saw you, but content your selfe, The Prince is meditating higher things, Tis of thy beauty then that conquers Kings. Of those thy tresses Ariadnes twines, Where with my libertie thou hast surprisde▪ Of that thine iuorie front my sorrowes map, Wherein I see no hauen to rest my hope. Toloue, and feare, and both at once my Lord, In my conceipt, are things of more import, Then womens wits are to be busied with. Tis I that loue. Whome? Bel-imperia. But I that feare. Whome? Bel-imperia. Feare your selfe? I brother. How? As those, that what they loue, are loath, and feare to loose. Then faire, let Balthazar your keeper be, No, Balthazar doth feare as well as we. Est treulo met pauidum , Et vanum stolidae proditionis opus. Nay, and you argue things so eunningly, Weele goe continue this discourse at Court, Led by the loadstar of her heauenly lookes, Wends poore oppressed Baltbazar, As ore the mountains walkes the wanderer, Incertain to effect his Pilgrimage. By your leaue Sir. Good leaue haue you, nay, I pray you goe, For ile leaue you, if you can leaue me so.