Marlowe, Christopher · published 1596 · first performed or written 1593 [Jan 26; Jan 30] (Annals) tragedy · Derby's (Strange's) Men unassigned nearest T31 Popes, cardinals and the crown · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T31: cardinal, pope, king, lord, majesty, holy, rome, france, church, lords.
Stand close, he is coming, I know him by his voice. As pale as ashes, nay then 'tis time to look about. Down with him, down with him. Oh I have my death's wound, give me leave to speak. Then pray to God, and ask forgiveness of the King. Trouble me not, I near offended him. Nor will I ask forgiveness of the King. Oh that I have not power to stay my life, Nor immortality to be revenged: To die by peasants, what a grief is this? Ah Sextus, be revenged upon the King, Philip and Parma, I am slain for you: Pope excommunicate, Philip depose, The wicked branch of cursed Valois his line. Vive la messa, perish Huguenots, Thus Caesar did go forth, and thus he died. What have you done? then stay a while and I'll go call the King, but see where he comes. My Lord, see where the Guise is slain. Ah this sweet sight is physic to my soul, Go fetch his son for to behold his death: Surcharged with guilt of thousand massacres: Monsieur of Lorraine sink away to hell, And in remembrance of those bloody broils: To which thou didst allure me being alive: And here in presence of you all I swear, I near was King of France until this hour: This is the traitor that hath spent my gold, In making foreign wars and civil broils. Did he not draw a sort of English priests, From Douai to the Seminary at Rheims, To hatch forth treason 'gainst their natural Queen? Did he not cause the King of Spain's huge fleet, To threaten England and to menace me? Did he not injure Monsieur that's deceased? Hath he not made me in the pope's defence, To spend the treasure that should strength my land: In civil broils between Navarre and me? Tush, to be short, he meant to make me Monk, Or else to murder me, and so be King. Let Christian princes that shall hear of this, (As all the world shall know our Guise is dead) Rest satisfied with this that here I swear, near was there King of France so yoked as I. My Lord here is his son. Boy, look where your father lies, My father slain, who hath done this deed? Sirrah 'twas I that slew him, and will slay thee too, and thou prove such a traitor. Art thou King, and hast done this bloody deed? I'll be revenged. A way to prison with him, I'll clip his wings or ere he pass my hands, away with him. But what availeth that this traitor's dead, When Duke Dumaine his brother is alive, And that young Cardinal that is grown so proud? Go to the Governor of Orleans, And will him in my name to kill the Duke. Get you away and strangle the Cardinal, These two will make one entire Duke of Guise, Especially with our old mother's help.
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)
Stand close, he is comming, I know him by his voice. As pale as ashes, nay then tis time to look about. Downe with him, downe with him. Oh I haue my deaths wound, giue me leaue to speak. Then pray to God, and aske forgiuenes of the King. Trouble me not, I neare offended him. Nor will I aske forgiuenes of the King. Oh that I haue not power to stay my life, Nor immortalitie to be reueng'd: To dye by Pesantes, what a greefe is this? Ah Sextus, be reueng'd vpon the King, Philip and Parma, I am slaine for you: Pope excommunicate, Philip depose, The wicked branch of curst Valois his line. Viue la messa, perish Hugonets, Thus Coesar did goe foorth, and thus he dyed. What haue you done? then stay a while and Ile goe call the King, but see where he comes. My Lord, see where the Guise is slaine. Ah this sweet sight is phisick to my soule, Goe fetch his sonne for to beholde his death: Surchargde with guilt of thousand massacres: Mounser of Loraine sinke away to hell, And in remembrance of those bloudy broyles: To which thou didstalure me being aliue: And heere in presence of you all I sweare, I nere was King of France vntill this houre: This is the traitor that hath spent my golde, In making forraine warres and ciuile broiles. Did he not drawa sorte of English priestes, From Doway to the Seminary at Remes, To hatch forth treason gainst their naturall Queene? Did he not cause the King of Spaines huge fleete, To threaten England and to menace me? Did he not iniure Mounser thats deceast? Hath he not made me in the Popes defence, To spend the treasure that should strength my land: In ciuill broiles between Nauarre and me? Tush, to be short, he meant to make me Munke, Or else to murder me, and so be King. Let Christian princes that shall heare of this, (As all the world shall know our Guise is dead) Rest satisfied with this that heer I sweare, Nere was there King of France so yoakt as I. My Lord heer is his sonne. Boy, look where your father lyes, My father slaine, who hath done this deed? Sirra twas I that slew him, and will slay thee too, and thou proue such a traitor. Art thou King, and hast done this bloudy deed? Ile be reuengde. A way to prison with him, Ile clippe his winges or ere he passe my handes, away with him. But what auaileth that this traitors dead, When Duke Dumaine his brother is aliue, And that young Cardinall that is growne so proud? Goe to the Gouernour of Orleance, And will him in my name to kill the Duke. Get you a way and strangle the Cardinall, These two will make one entire Duke of Guise, Especially with our olde mothers helpe.