Marlowe, Christopher · published 1594 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1593] (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an typicality 0.84 · 566 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
MY father is deceased, come Gaveston, And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend Ah words that make me surfeit with delight: What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston, Then live and be the favourite of a king? Sweet prince I come, these these thy amorous lines, Might have enforced me to have swum from France, And like Leander gasped upon the sand, So thou wouldst smile and take me in thy arms. The sight of London to my exiled eyes, Is as Elysium to a new come soul, Not that I love the city or the men, But that it harbours him I hold so dear, The king, upon whose bosom let me die, And with the world be still at enmity: What need the artic people love starlight, To whom the sun shines both by day and night. Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers, My knee shall bow to none but to the king, As for the multitude that are but sparks, raked up in embers of their poverty, Tanti: I'll fan first on the wind, That glanceth at my lips and flieth away; But how now, what are these? Such as desire your worship's service. What canst thou do? I can ride. But I have no horses. What art thou? A traveler. Let me see, thou wouldst do well To wait at my trencher, & tell me lies at dinner time, And as I like your discoursing, i'll have you. And what art thou? A soldier, that hath served against the Scot. Why there are hospitals for such as you, I have no war, and therefore sir be gone. Farewell, and perish by a soldiers hand, That wouldst reward them with an hospital. ay, ay, these words of his move me as much, As if a Goose should play the Porpentine, And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my breast, But yet it is no pain to speak men fair, I'll flatter these, and make them live in hope: You know that I came lately out of France, And yet I have not viewed my Lord the king, If I speed well, i'll entertain you all. We thank your worship. I have some business, leave me to myself. We will wait here about the court. Do: these are not men for me, I must have wanton Poets, pleasant wits, musicians, that with touching of a string May draw the pliant king which way I please: Music and poetry is his delight, Therefore i'll have Italian masks by night, Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows, And in the day when he shall walk abroad, Like Silvian nymphs my pages shall be clad, My men like satires grazing on the lawns, Shall with their Goat feet dance an antic hay, Sometime a lovely boy in Diane's shape, With hair that gilds the water as it glides, Crownets of pearl about his naked arms, And in his sportful hands an Olive tree, To hide those parts which men delight to see, Shall bathe him in a spring, and there hard by, One like Actaeon peeping through the grove, Shall by the angry goddess be transformed, And running in the likeness of an heart, By yelping hounds pulled down, and seem to die, Such things as these best please his majesty. My lord, here comes the king and the nobles From the parliament, i'll stand aside.
seed 43: T57 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
MY father is deceast, come Gaueston, And share the kingdom with thy deerest friend Ah words that make me surfet with delight: What greater blisse can hap to Gaueston, Then liue and be the fauorit of a king? Sweete prince I come, these these thy amorous lines, Might haue enforst me to haue swum from France, And like Leander gaspt vpon the sande, So thou wouldst smile and take me in thy armes. The sight of London to my exiled eyes, Is as Elizium to a new come soule, Not that I loue the citie or the men, But that it harbors him I hold so deare, The king, vpon whose bosome let me die, And with the world be still at enmitie: What neede the artick people loue star-light, To whom the sunne shines both by day and night. Farewell base stooping to the lordly peeres, My knee shall bowe to none but to the king, As for the multitude that are but sparkes, Rakt vp in embers of their pouertie, Tauti: Ile fanne first on the winde, That glaunceth at my lips and flieth away; But how now, what are these? Such as desire your worships seruice. What canst thou doe? I can ride. But I haue no horses. What art thou? A traueller. Let me see, thou wouldst do well To waite at my trencher, & tell me lies at dinner time, And as I like your discoursing, ile haue you. And what art thou? A souldier, that hath seru'd against the Scot. Why there are hospitals for such as you, I haue no warre, and therefore sir be gone. Farewell, and perish by a souldiers hand, That wouldst reward them with an hospitall. I, I, these wordes of his moue me as much, As if a Goose should play the Porpintine, And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my brest, But yet it is no paine to speake men faire, Ile flatter these, and make them liue in hope: You know that I came lately out of France, And yet I haue not viewd my Lord the king, If I speed well, ile entertaine you all. We thanke your worship. I haue some busines, leaue me to my selfe. We will wait heere about the court. Do: these are not men for me, I must haue wanton Poets, pleasant wits, Musitians, that with touching of a string May draw the pliant king which way I please: Musicke and poetrie is his delight, Therefore ile haue Italian maskes by night, Sweete speeches, comedies, and pleasing showes, And in the day when he shall walke abroad, Like Siluian Nimphes my pages shall be clad, My men like Satyres grazing on the lawnes, Shall with their Goate feete daunce an antick hay, Sometime a louelie boye in Dians shape, With haire that gilds the water as it glides, Crownets of pearle about his naked armes, And in his sportfull hands an Oliue tree, To hide those parts which men delight to see, Shall bathe him in a spring, and there hard by, One like Actaeon peeping through the groue, Shall by the angrie goddesse be transformde, And running in the likenes of an Hart, By yelping hounds puld downe, and seeme to die, Such things as these best please his maiestie. My lord, heere comes the king and the nobles From the parlament, ile stand aside.