Marlowe, Christopher · published 1594 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1593] (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.82 · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
So now must I about this gear, near was there any So finely handled as this king shallbe, Foh, here's a place in deed with all my heart. whose's there, what light is that, wherefore comes thou? To comfort you, and bring you joyful news. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks, Villain, I know thou comest to murder me. To murder you my most gracious lord, Far is it from my heart to do you harm, The Queen sent me, to see how you were used, For she relents at this your misery. And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears, To see a king in this most piteous state? Weepest thou already, list a while to me, And then thy heart, were it as Gurneys is, Or as Matrevis, hewn from the Caucasus, Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale, This dungeon where they keep me, is the sink, Wherein the filth of all the castle falls. O villains! And there in mire and puddle have I stood, This ten days space, and least that I should sleep, One plays continually upon a Drum, They give me bread and water being a king, So that for want of sleep and sustenance, My minds distempered, and my bodies numbed, And whether I have limbs or no, I know not, O would my blood dropped out from every vain, As doth this water from my tattered robes: Tell Isabell the Queen, I looked not thus, When for her sake I ran at tilt in France, And there unhorsed the duke of Cleremont. O speak no more my lord, this breaks my heart. Lie on this bed, and rest yourself a while, These looks of thine can harbour nought but death. I see my tragedy written in thy brows, Yet stay a while, forbear thy bloody hand, And let me see the stroke before it comes, That and even then when I shall lose my life, My mind may be more steadfast on my God. What means your highness to mistrust me thus? What means thou to dissemble with me thus? These hands were never stained with innocent blood, Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's. Forgive my thought, for having such a thought, One jewel have I left, receive thou this, Still fear I, and I know not what's the cause, But every joint shakes as I give it thee: O if thou harbour'st murder in thy heart, Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul, Know that I am a king, oh at that name, I feel a hell of grief, where is my crown? Gone, gone, and do I remain alive? Your over watched my lord, lie down and rest. But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep, For not these ten days have these eye lids closed, Now as I speak they fall, and yet with fear Open again, O wherefore sits thou hear?
seed 43: T44 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
So now must I about this geare, nere was there any So finely handled as this king shalbe, Foh, heeres a place in deed with all my hart. VVhose there, what light is that, wherefore comes thou? To comfort you, and bring you ioyfull newes. Small comfort findes poore Edward in thy lookes, Villaine, I know thou comst to murther me. To murther you my most gratious lorde, Farre is it from my hart to do you harme, The Queene sent me, to see how you were vsed, For she relents at this your miserie. And what eyes can refraine from shedding teares, To see a king in this most pittious state? VVeepst thou already, list a while to me, And then thy heart, were it as Gurneys is, Or as Matreuis, hewne from the Caucasus, Yet will it melt, ere I haue done my tale, This dungeon where they keepe me, is the sincke, Wherein the filthe of all the castell falles. O villaines! And there in mire and puddle haue I stood, This ten dayes space, and least that I should sleepe, One plaies continually vpon a Drum, They giue me bread and water being a king, So that for want of sleepe and sustenance, My mindes distempered, and my bodies numde, And whether I haue limmes or no, I know not, O would my bloud dropt out from euery vaine, As doth this water from my tattered robes: Tell Isabell the Queene, I lookt not thus, VVhen for her sake I ran at tilt in Fraunce, And there vnhorste the duke of Cleremont. O speake no more my lorde, this breakes my heart. Lie on this bed, and rest your selfe a while, These lookes of thine can harbor nought but death. I see my tragedie written in thy browes, Yet stay a while, forbeare thy bloudie hande, And let me see the stroke before it comes, That and euen then when I shall lose my life, My minde may be more stedfast on my God. VVhat meanes your highnesse to mistrust me thus? What meanes thou to dissemble with me thus? These handes were neuer stainde with innocent bloud, Nor shall they now be tainted with a kings. Forgiue my thought, for hauing such a thought, One iewell haue I left, receiue thou this, Still feare I, and I know not whats the cause, But euerie iointe shakes as I giue it thee: O if thou harborst murther in thy hart, Let this gift change thy minde, and saue thy soule, Know that I am a king, oh at that name, I feele a hell of greefe, where is my crowne? Gone, gone, and doe I remaine aliue? Your ouer watchde my lord, lie downe and rest. But that greefe keepes me waking, I shoulde sleepe, For not these ten daies haue these eye lids closd, Now as I speake they fall, and yet with feare Open againe, O wherefore sits thou heare?