Peele, George · published 1593 · first performed or written 1591 [1590-1593] (Annals) history · Unknown T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.86 · 526 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Hast from my sight, call Joan of Acon here, The lukewarm spring distilling from his eyes, His oaths, his vows, his reasons rested with remorse, From forth his breast empoisoned with suspect. fain would I deem that false I find too true. I come to know what England's King commands, I wonder why your Highness greets me thus. With strange regard and unacquainted terms. Ah Joan this wonder needs must wound thy breast, For it hath well nigh slain my wretched heart. What is the Queen my sovereign mother dead Woes in unhappy Lady we begun? The Queen is dead, yet Joan lament not thou, Poor soul guiltless art thou of this deceit, That hath more cause to curse then to complain. My dreadful soul assailed with doleful speech, joins me to bow my knees unto the ground, beseeching your most royal Majesty, To rid your woeful daughter of suspect. I daughter Joan, poor soul thou art deceived, The King of England is no scorned Priest. Was not the Lady Elinor your spouse, And am not I the offspring of your loins? ay but when Ladies list to run astray, The poor supposed father wears the horn, And pleating leave their Liege in PRINCE's laps, Joan thou art daughter to a lecherous Friar, A Friar was thy father hapless Joan, Thy mother in profession vows no less, And I wild wretch which sorrowed hard no less, What am I then a friars base borne brat? Presumptuous wretch why press I fore my king, How can I look my husband in the face? Why should I live since my renown is lost? Away thou want on weed, hence world's delight. O sommo Dio come i gu●dneo humans, Spesse offuscan son danu membo oscunro, Hapless and wretched, lift up thy heavy head Nurse not so much as this unhappy chance, Unconstant Fortune still will have her course. My King, my King, let Fortune have her course Fly thou my soul and take a better corpse, Aies me from royal state I now am fain. You purple springs that wander in my veins, And whilom wants to feed my heavy heart, Now all at once make haste and pity me, And stop your powers and change your native course, Dissolve to air your lukewarm bloody streams, And cease to be that I may be no more, Your curled locks draw from this cursed head, A base her pomp for Joan is basely borne, Ah Gloster thou poor Gloster hast the wrong Die wretch, hate death, for Joan hath lived too long. Revive thee hapless Lady grieve not thus, In vain speak I for she revives no more, Poor hapless soul thy own espected moans, Hath wrought her sudden and untimely death. Lords, Ladies haste, ah Gloster art thou come, Then must I now present a Tragedy, Thy Joan is dead, yet grieve thou not her fall, She was too base a spouse for such a Prince. Conspire you then with Heavens to work my harms? O sweet assuagers of our martial miss, Desired death deprive me of my life, That I in death may end my life and love.
seed 43: T44 · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Hast from my sight, call Ione of Acon here, The luke-warme spring distilling from his eies, His othes, his vowes, his reasons rested with remorce, From forth his breast impoisoned with suspect. Faine would I deeme that false I finde too true. I come to know what Englands King commands, I wonder why your Highnes greetes me thus. With strange regarde and vnacquainted tearmes. Ah Ione this wonder needes must wound thy brest, For it hath well nigh slaine my wretched heart. What is the Queen my soueraigne mother dead Woes in vnhappie Ladie we begonne? The Queene is dead, yet Ione lament not thou, Poore soule guiltles art thou of this deceite, That ath more cause to curse then to complaine. My dreadful soule assailed with dolefull speach, Ioynes me to bow my knees vnto the ground, Beseeding your most roiall Maiestie, To rid your woefull daughter of suspect. I daughter Ione, poore soule thou art deceaued, The King of England is no scorned Priest. Was not the Ladie Elinor your spouse, And am not I the ofspring of your Ioins? I but when Ladies liste to runne asraie, The poore supposed father weares the horne, And plating leaue their Liege in Princes laps, Jone thou art daughter to a leacherous Frier, A Frier was thy father haplesse Ione, Thy mother in profession vowes no lesse, And I vilde wretch which sorrowed hard no lesse, What am I then a Friers base borne brat? Presumptuous wretch why preasse I fore my king, How can I looke my husband in the face? Why should I liue since my renowne is lost? Awaie thou want on weede, hence worlds delight. O somo Dio come i gudneo humans, Spesse offuscan son danu membo oscunro, Haplesse and wretched, lift vp thy heauie Nurse not so much as thi vnhappie chance, Vnconstant Fortune still will haue her course. My King, my King, let Fortune haue her course Flie thou my soule and take a better corse, Aies me from roiall state I now am faine. You purple springs that wander in my vaines, And whilom wants to feed my heauie heart, Now all at once make hast and pittie me, And stop your powers and change your natiue course, Disolue to aire your luke-warme blouddie streames, And cease to be that I maie be no more, Your curled lockes draw from this cursed head, A base her pompe for Ione is baselie borne, Ah Gloster thou poore Gloster hast the wrong Die wretch, hate death, for Ione hath liued oo long. Reuiue thee haples Ladie greeue not thus, In vaine speake I for shee reuiues no more, Poore haplesse soule thy owne espected mones, Hath wrought her soddaine and vntimelie death. Lords, Ladies hast, ah Gloster at thou come, Then must I now present a Tragedie, Thy Ione is dead, yet grieue thou not her fall, Shee was too base a spouse for such a Prince. Conspire you then with Heauens to work my harmes? O sweete aflwagers of our martiall misse, Desired death depriue me of my life, That I in death maie end my life and loue.