Marlowe, Christopher · published 1594 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1593] (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea · 478 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Leave of this jesting, here my lady comes. The grief for his exile was not so much, As is the joy of his returning home, This letter came from my sweet Gaveston, What needst thou love, thus to excuse thyself? I know thou couldst not come and visit me, I will not long be from thee though I die: This argues the entire love of my Lord, When I forsake thee, death seize on my heart, But rest thee here where Gaveston shall sleep. Now to the letter of my Lord the King, He wils me to repair unto the court, And meet my Gaveston: why do I stay, Seeing that he talks thus of my marriage day? whose's there, Baldock? See that my coach be ready, I must hence. It shall be done madam. And meet me at the park pale presently: Spencer, stay you and bear me company, For I have joyful news to tell thee of, My lord of Cornwall is a coming over, And will be at the court as soon as we. I knew the King would have him home again. If all things sort out, as I hope they will, Thy service Spencer shallbe thought upon. I humbly thank your ladyship. Come lead the way, I long till I am there. The wind is good, I wonder why he stays, I fear me he is wracked upon the sea. Look Lancaster how passionate he is, And still his mind runs on his minion. My Lord. How now, what news, is Gaveston arrived? Nothing but Gaveston, what means your grace? You have matters of more weight to think upon, The King of France sets foot in Normandie. A trifle, we'll expel him when we please: But tell me Mortimer, what's thy device, Against the stately triumph we decreed? A homely one my lord, not worth the telling. Prithee let me know it. But seeing you are so desirous, thus it is: A lofty Cedar tree fair flourishing, On whose top-branches Kingly Eagles perch, And by the bark a canker creeps me up, And gets unto the highest bough of all, The motto: Aeque tandem. And what is yours my lord of Lancaster? My lord, mines more obscure than Mortimer's, Plinie reports, there is a flying Fish, Which all the other fishes deadly hate, And therefore being pursued, it takes the air: No sooner is it up, but there's a foul, That seizeth it: this fish my lord I bear, The motto this: undique mors est. Proud Mortimer, ungentle Lancaster, Is this the love you bear your sovereign? Is this the fruit your reconcilement bears? Can you in words make show of amity, And in your shields display your rancorous minds? What call you this but private libeling, Against the Earl of Cornwall and my brother? Sweet husband be content, they all love you.
seed 43: T22 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Leaue of this iesting, here my lady comes. The greefe for his exile was not so much, As is the ioy of his returning home, This letter came from my sweete Gaueston, VVhat needst thou loue, thus to excuse thy selfe? I know thou couldst not come and visit me, I will not long be from thee though I die: This argues the entire loue of my Lord, VVhen I forsake thee, death seaze on my heart, But rest thee here where Gaueston shall sleepe. Now to the letter of my Lord the King, He wils me to repaire vnto the court, And meete my Gaueston: why do I stay, Seeing that he talkes thus of my mariage day? VVhose there, Balduck? See that my coache be readie, I must hence. It shall be done madam. And meete me at the parke pale presentlie: Spencer, stay you and beare me companie, For I haue ioyfull newes to tell thee of, My lord of Cornewall is a comming ouer, And will be at the court as soone as we. I knew the King would haue him home againe. If all things sort out, as I hope they will, Thy seruice Spencer shalbe thought vpon. I humbly thanke your Ladieship. Come lead the way, I long till I am there. The winde is good, I wonder why he stayes, I feare me he is wrackt vpon the sea. Looke Lancaster how passionate he is, And still his minde runs on his minion. My Lord. How now, what newes, is Gaueston arriude? Nothing but Gaueston, what means your grace? You haue matters of more waight to thinke vpon, The King of Fraunce sets foote in Normandie. A triflle, weele expell him when we please: But tell me Mortimer, whats thy deuise, Against the stately triumph we decreed? A homely one my lord, not worth the telling. Prethee let me know it. But seeing you are so desirous, thus it is: A loftie Cedar tree faire flourishing, On whose top-branches Kinglie Eagles pearch, And by the barke a canker creepes me vp, And gets vnto the highest bough of all, The motto: Aeque tandem. And what is yours my lord of Lancaster? My lord, mines more obscure then Mortimers, Plinie reports, there is a flying Fish, Which all the other fishes deadly hate, And therefore being pursued, it takes the aire: No sooner is it vp, but thers a foule, That seaseth it: this fish my lord I beare, The motto this: Vndique mors est. Proud Mortimer, vngentle Lancaster, Is this the loue you beare your soueraigne? Is this the fruite your reconcilement beares? Can you in words make showe of amitie, And in your shields display your rancorous minds? What call you this but priuate libelling, Against the Earle of Cornewall and my brother? Sweete husband be content, they all loue you.