Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 495 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.) 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived From some fore father grief, mine is not so, For nothing hath begot my something grief, Or something, hath the nothing that I grieve, 'Tis in reversion that I do possess, But what it is, that is not yet known, what I cannot name, 'tis nameless woe I wots. Heaven save your Majesty, and well met Gentlemen: I hope the King is not yet shipped for Ireland. Why hop'st thou so? 'tis better hope he is: For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope, Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipped? That he our hope, might have retired his power, and driven into despair an enemies hope, Who strongly hath set footing in this Land. The banished Bullingbrooke repeals himself, And with up-lifted Arms is safe arrived At Ravenspurg. Now God in heaven forbidden. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse, The L. Northumberland, his young son Henry Percy, The Lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends are fled to him. Why have you not proclaimed Northumberland And the rest of the revolted faction, Traitors? We have: where upon the Earl of Worcester Hath broke his staff, resigned his Stewardship, And all the household servant, fled with him to Bullinbrook So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe, And Bullinbrooke my sorrow's dismal heir: Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy, And I a gasping new delivered mother, Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow joined. Despair not Madam. Who shall hinder me? I will despair, and be at enmity With cozening hope; he is a Flatterer, A Parasite, a keeper back of death, Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, Which false hopes linger in extremity. here comes the Duke of York. With signs of war about his aged neck, Oh full of careful business are his looks: Uncle, for heavens sake speak comfortable words: Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth, Where nothing lives but crosses, care and grief: Your husband he is gone to sail far off, Whilst others come to make him lose at home: here am I left to underprop his Land, Who weak with age, cannot support myself: Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made, Now shall he try his friends that flattered him. My Lord, your son was gone before I came. He was: why so: go all which way it will: The Nobleses they are fled, the Commons they are cold, And will I fear revolt on Herfords side. Sirrah, get thee to Plathie to my sister Gloster, Bid her send me presently a thousand pound, Hold, take my Ring. My Lord, I had forgot To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and called there, But I shall grieve you to report the rest. What is't knave? An hour before I came, the Duchess died.
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)
'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.) 'Tis nothing leſſe: conceit is ſtill deriu'd From ſome fore father greefe, mine is not ſo, For nothing hath begot my ſomething greefe, Or ſomething, hath the nothing that I greeue, 'Tis in reuerſion that I do poſſeſſe, But what it is, that is not yet knowne, what I cannot name, 'tis nameleſſe woe I wot. Heauen ſaue your Maieſty, and wel met Gentlemen: I hope the King is not yet ſhipt for Ireland. Why hop'ſt thou ſo? Tis better hope he is: For his deſignes craue haſt, his haſt good hope, Then wherefore doſt thou hope he is not ſhipt? That he our hope, might haue retyr'd his power, and driuen into diſpaire an enemies hope, Who ſtrongly hath ſet footing in this Land. The baniſh'd Bullingbrooke repeales himſelfe, And with vp-lifted Armes is ſafe arriu'd At Rauenſpurg. Now God in heauen forbid. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worſe, The L. Northumberland, his yong ſonne Henrie Percie, The Lords of Roſſe, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powrefull friends are fled to him. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland And the reſt of the reuolted faction, Traitors? We haue: where upon the Earle of Worceſter Hath broke his ſtaffe, reſign'd his Stewardſhip, And al the houſhold ſeruant, fled with him to Bullinbrook So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe, And Bullinbrooke my ſorrowes diſmall heyre: Now hath my ſoule brought forth her prodegie, And I a gasping new deliuered mother, Haue woe to woe, ſorrow to ſorrow ioyn'd. Diſpaire not Madam. Who ſhall hinder me? I will diſpaire, and be at enmitie With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer, A Paraſite, a keeper backe of death, Who gently would diſſolue the bands of life, Which falſe hopes linger in extremity. Heere comes the Duke of Yorke. With ſignes of warre about his aged necke, Oh full of carefull buſineſſe are his lookes: Vncle▪ for heauens ſake ſpeake comfortable words: Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth, Where nothing liues but croſſes, care and greefe: Your husband he is gone to ſaile farre off, Whilſt others come to make him looſe at home: Heere am I left to vnder-prop his Land, Who weake with age, cannot ſupport my ſelfe: Now comes the ſicke houre that his ſurfet made, Now ſhall he try his friends that flattered him. My Lord, your ſonne was gone before I came. He was: why ſo: go all which way it will▪ The Nobles they are fled, the Commons they are cold, And will I feare reuolt on Herfords ſide. Sirra, get thee to Plathie to my ſiſter Gloſter, Bid her ſend me preſently a thouſand pound, Hold, take my Ring. My Lord, I had forgot To tell your Lordſhip, to day I came by, and call'd there, But ſhall greeue you to report the reſt. What is't knaue? An houre before I came, the Dutcheſſe di'de.