Marlowe, Christopher · published 1594 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1593] (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.92 · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Look up my lord. Baldock, this drowsiness Betides no good, here even we are betrayed. Upon my life, those be the men ye see Fellow enough, my lord I pray be short, A fair commission warrants what we do. The queen's commission, urged by Mortimer, What cannot gallant Mortimer with the Queen? Alas, see where he sits, and hopes unseen, T'escape their hands that seek to reave his life: Too true it is, quem dies vidit veniens superbum, Hunc dies vidit fugiens iacentem. But Leister leave to grow so passionate, Spencer and Baldock, by no other names, I arrest you of high treason here, Stand not on titles, but obey th'arrest, 'tis in the name of Isabell the Queen: My lord, why droop you thus? O day! the last of all my bliss on earth; Centre of all misfortune. O my stars! Why do you lower unkindly on a king? Comes Leister then in Isabella's name, To take my life, my company from me? Here man, rip up this panting breast of mine, And take my heart, in rescue of my friends. Away with them. It may be come thee yet, To let us take our farewell of his grace. My heart with pity earns to see this sight, A king to bear these words and proud commands. Spencer, a sweet Spencer, thus then must we part. We must my lord, so will the angry heavens. Nay so will hell, and cruel Mortimer, The gentle heavens have not to do in this. My lord, it is in vain to grieve or storm, Here humbly of your grace we take our leaves, Our lots are cast, I fear me so is thine. In heaven we may, in earth never shall we meet, And Leister say, what shall become of us? Your majesty must go to Killingworth. Must! 'tis somewhat hard, when kings must go. Here is a Litter ready for your grace, That waits your pleasure, and the day grows old. As good be gone, as stay and be benighted. A litter hast thou, lay me in a hearse, And to the gates of hell convey me hence, Let Pluto's bells ring out my fatal knell, And hags howl for my death at Charon's shore, For friends hath Edward none, but these, and these, And these must die under a tyrant's sword. My lord, be going, care not for these, For we shall see them shorter by the heads. Well, that shallbe, shallbe: part we must, Sweet Spencer, gentle Baldock, part we must, Hence feigned weeds, unfeigned are my woes, Father, farewell: Leister, thou stayest for me, And go I must, life farewell with my friends. O is he gone! is noble Edward gone, Parted from hence, never to see us more, Rent sphere of heaven, and fire forsake thy orb, Earth melt to air, gone is my sovereign, Gone, gone alas, never to make return.
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)
Looke vp my lord. Baldock, this drowsines Betides no good, here euen we are betraied. Vpon my life, those be the men ye see Fellow enough, my lord I pray be short, A faire commission warrants what we do. The Queenes commission, vrgd by Mortimer, What cannot gallant Mortimer with the Queene? Alas, see where he sits, and hopes vnseene, T'escape their hands that seeke to reaue his life: Too true it is, quem dies vidit veniens superbum, Hunc dies vidit fugiens iacentem. But Leister leaue to growe so passionate, Spencer and Baldocke, by no other names, I arrest you of high treason here, Stand not on titles, but obay th'arrest, Tis in the name of Isabell the Queene: My lord, why droope you thus? O day! the last of all my blisse on earth; Center of all misfortune. O my starres! Why do you lowre vnkindly on a king? Comes Leister then in Isabellas name, To take my life, my companie from me? Here man, rip vp this panting brest of mine, And take my heart, in reskew of my friends. Away with them. It may be come thee yet, To let vs take our farewell of his grace. My heart with pittie earnes to see this sight, A king to beare these words and proud commaunds. Spencer, a sweet Spencer, thus then must we part. We must my lord, so will the angry heauens. Nay so will hell, and cruell Mortimer, The gentle heauens haue not to do in this. My lord, it is in vaine to greeue or storme, Here humblie of your grace we take our leaues, Our lots are cast, I feare me so is thine. In heauen wee may, in earth neuer shall wee meete, And Leister say, what shall become of vs? Your maiestie must go to Killingworth. Must! tis somwhat hard, when kings must go. Here is a Litter readie for your grace, That waites your pleasure, and the day growes old. As good be gon, as stay and be benighted. A litter hast thou, lay me in a hearse, And to the gates of hell conuay me hence, Let Plutos bels ring out my fatall knell, And hags howle for my death at Charons shore, For friends hath Edward none, but these, and these, And these must die vnder a tyrants sword. My lord, be going, care not for these, For we shall see them shorter by the heads. Well, that shalbe, shalbe: part we must, Sweete Spencer, gentle Baldocke, part we must, Hence fained weeds, vnfained are my woes, Father, farewell: Leister, thou staist for me, And go I must, life farewell with my friends. O is he gone! is noble Edward gone, Parted from hence, neuer to see vs more, Rent sphere of heauen, and fier forsake thy orbe, Earth melt to ayre, gone is my soueraigne, Gone, gone alas, neuer to make returne.