Marlowe, Christopher · published 1594 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1593] (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
O stay my lord, they will not injure you. I will not trust them, Gaveston away. Farewell my Lord. Lady, farewell. Farewell sweet uncle till we meet again. Farewell sweet Gaveston, and farewell Niece. No farewell, to poor Isabell, thy Queen? Yes, yes, for Mortimer your lovers sake. Heavens can witness, I love none but you, From my embracements thus he breaks away, O that mine arms could close this isle about, That I might pull him to me where I would, Or that these tears that drizzle from mine eyes, Had power to mollify his stony heart, That when I had him we might never part. I wonder how he scaped. whose's this, the Queen? I Mortimer, the miserable Queen, Whose pining heart, her inward sighs have blasted, And body with continual morning wasted: These hands are tired, with haling of my lord From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston, And all in vain, for when I speak him fair, He turns away, and smiles upon his minion. Cease to lament, and tell us where's the king? What would you with the king, be't him you seek? No madam, but that cursed Gaveston, Far be it from the thought of Lancaster, To offer violence to his sovereign, We would but rid the realm of Gaveston, Tell us where he remains, and he shall die. he's gone by water unto Scarborough, Pursue him quickly, and he cannot scape, The king hath left him, and his train is small. foreslow no time, sweet Lancaster let's march. How comes it, that the king and he is parted? That this your army going several ways, Might be of lesser force, and with the power That he intendeth presently to raise, Be easily suppressed: and therefore be gone. Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy, Let's all aboard, and follow him amain. The wind that bears him hence, will fill our sails, Come, come aboard, 'tis but an hours sailing. Madam, stay you within this castle here. No Mortimer, i'll to my lord the king. Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough. You know the king is so suspicious, As if he hear I have but talked with you, Mine honour will be called in question, And therefore gentle Mortimer be gone. Madam, I cannot stay to answer you, But think of Mortimer as he deserves. So well hast thou deserved sweet Mortimer, As Isabel could live with thee for ever, In vain I look for love at Edward's hand, Whose eyes are fixed on none but Gaveston: Yet once more i'll importune him with prayers, If he be strange and not regard my words, My son and I will over into France, And to the king my brother there complain, How Gaveston hath robbed me of his love: But yet I hope my sorrows will have end, And Gaveston this blessed day be slain.
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)
O stay my lord, they will not iniure you. I will not trust them, Gaueston away. Farewell my Lord. Ladie, farewell. Farewell sweete vnckle till we meete againe. Farewell sweete Gaueston, and farewell Neece. No farewell, to poore Isabell, thy Queene? Yes, yes, for Mortimer your louers sake. Heauens can witnesse, I loue none but you, From my imbracements thus he breakes away, O that mine armes could close this Ile about, That I might pull him to me where I would, Or that these teares that drissell from mine eyes, Had power to mollifie his stonie hart, That when I had him we might neuer part. I wonder how he scapt. Whose this, the Queene? I Mortimer, the miserable Queene, Whose pining heart, her inward sighes haue blasted, And body with continuall moorning wasted: These hands are tir'd, with haling of my lord From Gaueston, from wicked Gaueston, And all in vaine, for when I speake him faire, He turnes away, and smiles vpon his minion. Cease to lament, and tell vs wheres the king? What would you with the king, ist him you seek? No madam, but that cursed Gaueston, Farre be it from the thought of Lancaster, To offer violence to his soueraigne, We would but rid the realme of Gaueston, Tell vs where he remaines, and he shall die. Hees gone by water vnto Scarborough, Pursue him quicklie, and he cannot scape, The king hath left him, and his traine is small. Forslowe no time, sweet Lancaster lets march. How comes it, that the king and he is parted? That this your armie going seuerall waies, Might be of lesser sorce, and with the power That he intendeth presentlie to raise, Be easilie supprest: and therefore be gone. Heere in the riuer rides a Flemish hoie, Lets all aboord, and follow him amaine. The wind that bears him hence, wil fil our sailes, Come, come aboord, tis but an houres sailing. Madam, stay you within this castell here. No Mortimer, ile to my lord the king. Nay, rather saile with vs to Scarborough. You know the king is so suspitious, As if he heare I haue but talkt with you, Mine honour will be cald in question, And therefore gentle Mortimer be gone. Madam, I cannot stay to answer you, But thinke of Mortimer as he deserues. So well hast thou deseru'de sweete Mortimer, As Isaebell could liue with thee for euer, In vaine I looke for loue at Edwards hand, Whose eyes are fixt on none but Gaueston: Yet once more ile importune him with praiers, If he be straunge and not regarde my wordes, My sonne and I will ouer into France, And to the king my brother there complaine, How Gaueston hath robd me of his loue: But yet I hope my sorrowes will haue end, And Gaueston this blessed day be slaine.