Peele, George · published 1593 · first performed or written 1591 [1590-1593] (Annals) history · Unknown T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.86 · 518 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Gloster thy King is partner of thy heaviness, Although nor tongue nor eyes bewray his mean, For I have lost a flower as fair as thine, A love more dear, For Elinor is dead, But since the heaven lie ordinance decrees, That all things change in their prefixed time, Be thou content and bear it in thy breast, Thy swelling grief as needs I must mine, Thy Joan of Acon and my Queen deceased, Shall have that Honour as beseems their state. You peers of England, see in royal pomp, These breathless bodies be entombed straight With tried colours covered all with black, Let Spanish steeds as swift as fleeting wind, Convey these Princes to their funeral, Before them let a hundred mourners ride, In every time of their enforced abode, Rear up a cross in token of their work, Whereon fair Elinor's picture shall be placed, Arrived at London near our Pallas bounds, Inter my lovely Elinor late deceased, And in remembrance of her royalty, Erect a rich and stately carved Cross, Whereon her stature shall with glory shine, And hence forth see you call it Charing cross, For why the chancest and the choicest Queen, That ever did delight my royal eyes, Their dwell in darkness whilst I die in grief, But soft, what tidings with these Pursuivants? Sir Roger Mortimor with all Sussex as erst your Grace by message did command, is here at hand in purpose to present your Highness with his signs of victory, and trothless Balliol their accursed King, with fire and sword doth threat Northumberland. How one affliction calls another over, First death torments me, than I feel disgrace, Again Lluellen he rebels in Wales, And false Balliol means to brave me to, But I will find provision for them all, My constancy shall conquer death and shame, And Mortimor 'tis thou must haste to wales, And rouse that Rebel from his starting holes, And rid thy King of his contentions foe. Whilst I with Elinor, Gloster, and the rest, With speedy journey gather up our force, And beat these braving Scots from out our bounds, Courage brave Soldiers fates hath done their worst, Now Virtue let me triumph in thine aide. Now Joan of Acon let me mourn thy fall, Sole here alone now set thee down and sigh, Sigh hapless Gloster for thy sudden loss, Pale death alas hath banished all thy pride, Thy wedlock vows how ought have I beheld? Thy eyes thy looks thy lips and every part, How nature store in them to show their Art, In shine, in shape, in colour and compare, But now hath death the enemy of love, Stained and deformed, the shine, the shape, the reed, With pale and dimness, and my love is dead. Ah dead my love, vile wretch why came I living? So willeth fates, and I must be contented, All pomp in time must fade and grow to nothing, Wept I like Niobe, yet it profits nothing, Then cease my sighs since I may not regain her, And woe to wretched death that this hath slain her.
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)
Gloster thy King is partner of thy heauines, Although nor tongue nor eies bewraie his meane, For I haue lost a flowre as faire as thine, A loue more deare, For Elinor is dead, But since the heauen lie ordinance decrees, That all thinges change in their prefixed time, Be thou content and beare it in thy breast, Thy swelling griefe as needes I must mine, Thy Ione of Acon and my Queene deceast, Shall haue that Honor as beseemes their state. You peeres of England, see in roall pompe, These bodies be entombed straight With tried colours couered all with blacke, Let Spanish steedes as swift as sleeting winde, Conuaie these Princes to their sunerall, Before them let a hundred mourners ride, In euerie time of their enforste aboade, Reare vp a crosse in token of their worke, Whereon faire Elinors picture shall be plaste, Arriued at London neare our Pallas bounds, Interre my louelie Elinor late deceast, And in remembraunce of her roialtie, Erect a rich and statelie carued Crosse, Whereon her stature shall with glorie shine, And hence forth see you call it Charing crosse, For why the chancest and the choisest Queene, That euer did delight my roiall eies, Their dwell in darkenes whilst I die in griefe, But soft, what tidings with these Purciuants? Sir Roger Mortimor with all Sussex as earste your Grace by message did commaund, is here at hande in purpose to present your Highnes with his signes of victorie, and trothles Balioll their accursed King, with fire and sword doth threat Northumberland. How one at fliction cals another ouer, First death torments me, then I feele disgrace, Againe Lluellen he rebels in VVales, And false Balioll meanes to braue me to, But I will finde prouision for them all, My co shall conquer death and shame, And Mortimor tis thou must hast to wales, And rous that Rebel from his starting holes, And rid thy King of his contentions foe. VVhilst I with Elinor, Gloster, and the rest, With speedie iourney gather vp our force, And beat these brauing Scots from out our bounds, Courage braue Souldiers fates hath done their worst, Now Vertue let me triumphe in Now of Acon let me mourne thy fal, Sole here alone now set thee downe and sigh, Sigaples Gloster for thy so daine lesse, Tale death alas hath banished all thy pride, Thy wedlocke vowes how ought haue I beheld? Thy eies thy lookes thy lippes and euerie part, How nature store in them to shew their Art, In shine, in shape, in colour and compare, But now hath death the enemie of loue, Staind and deformed, the shine, the shape, the reede, With pale and dimnes, and my loue is dead. Ah dead my loue, vile wretch whicam I liuing? So willeth fates, and I must be contented, All pompe in time must fade and grow to nothing, VVept I like Nobe, yet it profits nothing, Then cease my sighs since I maie not regaine her, And woe to wretched death that ths hath slaine her.