Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
The woe's to come, the children yet unborn, Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. You holy Clergy men, is there no plot, To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? My Lo. before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the Sacrament, To bury mine intents, but also to effect, What ever I shall happen to devise: I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears: Come home with me to supper, I'll lay a plot, Shall show us all a merry day. This way the King will come, this is the way, To Iulius Caesar's ill erected Tower, To whose flint bosom, my condemned Lord, Is doomed a prisoner by proud Bullingbrooke▪ Hear let us rest, if this rebellious earth, Have any resting for her true King's Queen. But soft, but see, or rather do not see, My fair Rose whither, yet look up, behold, That you in pity may dissolve to dew▪ And wash him fresh again with true love tears. Ah thou the model where old Troy did stand! Thou map of honour, thou King Richard's tomb, And not King Richard: thou most beauteous Inn, Why should hard favoured grief be lodged in thee, When triumph is become an alehouse guest? join not with grief fair woman, do not so, To make my end too sudden, learn good soul, To think our former state a happy dream, From which awaked the truth of what we are Shows us but this: I am sworn brother (sweet) To grim necessity, and he and I, Will keep a league till death. High thee to France, And cloister thee in some religious house, Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, Which our profane hours here have thrown down. what is my Richard both in shape and mind Transformed and weakened? hath Bullingbrooke, Deposed thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? The Lion dying thrusteth forth his paw, And wounds the earth if nothing else with rage, To be ore-powr'd, and wilt thou pupill-like Take the correction, mildly kiss the rod, And fawn on Rage with base humility, Which art a Lion and the king of beasts. a King of beasts indeed, if aught but beasts, I had been skill a happy King of men. Good (sometimes Queen) prepare thee hence for France, Think I am dead, and that even here thou takest As from my death bed thy last living leave; In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire, with good old folks, and let them tell the tales, Of woeful ages long ago betide: And ere thou bid good night to quite their griefs, Tell thou the lamentable tale of me, And send the hearers weeping to their beds: For why, the senseless brands will sympathize The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, And in compassion weep the fire out, And some will mourn in ashes, some coal black, For the deposing of a rightful King.
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)
The woe's to come, the children yet vnborn Shall feele this day as sharp to them as thorne. You holy Clergy men, is there no plot, To ridde the realme of this pernitious blot? My Lo. before I freely speake my mind heerein, You shall not onely take the Sacrament, To burie mine intents, but also to effect, What euer I shall happen to deuise: I see your browes are full of discontent, Your harts of sorrow, and your eies of teares: Come home with me to supper, Ile lay a plot, Shall shew vs all a merrie daie. This way the King will come, this is the way, To Iulius Caesars ill erected Tower, To whose flint bosome, my condemned Lord, Is doomde a prisoner by proud Bullingbrooke▪ Heere let vs rest, if this rebellious earth, Haue any resting for her true Kings Queene. But soft, but see, or rather doe not see, My faire Rose wither, yet looke vp, behold, That you in pittie may dissolue to dew▪ And wash him fresh againe with true loue eares. Ah thou the modle where olde Troy did stand! Thou mappe of honour, thou King Richards tombe, And not King Richard: thou most beauteous Inne, Why should hard fauourd greife be Iodged in thee, When triumph is become an alehouse guest? ioyne not with greife faire woman, doe not so, To make my end too sudden, learne good soule, To thinke our former state a happie dreame, From which awakt the trueth of what we are Shewes vs but this: I am swone brother (sweet) To grim necessitie, and he and I, Will keepe a league till death. Hie thee to Fraunce, And cloister thee in some religious house, Our holy liues must win a new worlds crowne, VVhich ou prophane houres heere haue throwne downe. what is my Richard both in shape and minde Transformd and weakned? hath Bullingbrooke, Deposde thine intellect? hath he been in thy hart? The Lyon dying thrusteth foorth his pawe, And woundes the earh if nothing else with rage, To be ore-powr'd, and wilt thou pupill-like Take the correction, mildly kisse the rod, And fawne on Rage with base humilitie, VVhich art a Lion and the king of beasts. a King of beasts indeed, if aught but beasts, I had been a happie King of men. Good (sometimes Queene) prepare thee hence for France, Thinke I am dead, and that euen here thou takest As from my death bed thy last liuing leaue; In winters tedious nights sit by the fire, with good old folkes, and let them tell the tales, Of woefull ages long agoe be tidde: And ere thou bid good night to quite their griefes, Tell thou the lamentable tale of me, And send the hearers weeping to their beds: For why, the senslesse brands will simpathize The heauy accent of thy moouing tong, And in compassion weepe the fire out, And some wil mourne in ashes, some cole blacke, For the deposing of a rightfull King.