Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 498 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.
No doubt, no doubt, and so shall Clarence too, For they that were your enemies are his, And have prevailed as much on him as you. More pity that the Eagle should be mewed, While k●ihts and bussards prey at liberty. What news abroad? No news so bad abroad as this at home: The King is sickly, weak and melancholy, And his Physicians fear him mightily. Now by Saint Paul this news is bad indeed, Oh he hath kept an evil diet long, And overmuch consumed his royal person, 'tis very grievous to be thought upon: What is he in his bed? He is. Go you before and I will follow you. He cannot live I hope, and must not die, Till George be packed with post horse up to heaven. I'll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence, With lies well steeled with weighty arguments, And if I fail not in my deep intent, Clarence hath not an other day to live Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy And leave the world for me to bustle in, For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter: What though I killed her husband and her father, The readiest way to make the wench amends, Is to become her husband and her father: The which will I, not all so much for love, As for another secret close intent. By marrying her which I must reach unto. But yet I run before my horse to market: Clarence still breathes, Edward still lives and reigns, When they are gone then must I count my gains. Set down set down your honourabler If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, Whilst I a while obsequiously lament The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster: Poor kei-cold figure of a holy King▪ Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster, Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son, Stabbed by the self-same hands that made these holes, Lo in those windows that let forth thy life, I power the helpless balm of my poor eyes, Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes, Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it. More direful hap betide that hated wretch, That makes us wretched by the death of thee: Than I can with to adders, spiders, toads, Or any creeping venomed thing that lives. If ever he have child abortive be it, Prodigious and untimely brought to light: Whose ugly and unnatural aspect, May fright the hopeful mother at the view. If ever he have wife, let her be made As miserable by the death of him, As I am made by my poor Lord and thee. Come now towards Chertsey with your holy load, Taken from Paul's to be interred there: And still as you are weary of the weight, Rest you whiles I lament King Henry's corpse.
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)
No doubt, no doubt, and so shal Clarence too, For they that were your enemies are his, And haue preuaild as much on him as you. More pitty that the Eagle should be mewed, While kihts and bussards prey at liberty. What newes abroad? No newes so bad abroad as this at home: The King is sickly, weake and melancholy, And his Phisitions feare him mightily. Now by Saint Paul this newes is bad indeede, Oh he hath kept an euill diet long, And ouermuch consumed his royall person, Tis very grieuous to be thought vpon: What is he in his bed? He is. Go you before and I will follow you. He cannot liue I hope, and must not die, Till George be packt with post horse vp to heauen. Ile in to vrge his hatred more to Clarence, With lies well steeld with weighty arguments, And if I faile not in my deepe intent, Clarence hath not an other day to liue Which done, God take King Edward to his mer And leaue the world for me to bussell in, For then Ile marry Warwicks yongest daughter: What though I kild her husband and her father, The eadiest way to make the wench amends, Is to become her husband and her father: The which will I, not all so much for loue, As for another secret close intent. By marrying her which I must reach vnto. But yet I run before my horse to market: Clarence still breathes, Edward still liues and raignes, When they are gone then must I count my gaines. Set downe set downe your honourable If honor may be shrowded in a hearse, Whilst I a while obsequiously lament The vntimely fall of vertuous Lancaster: Poore kei-cold figure of a holy King▪ Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster, Thou bloudlesse remnant of that royall bloud Be it lawfull that I inuocate thy ghost, To heare the lamentations of poore Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered sonne, Stabd by the selfesame hands that made these holes, Lo in those windowes that let foorth thy life, I powre the helplesse balme of my poore eies, Curst be the hand that made these fatall holes, Curst be the heart that had the heart to doe it. More direfull hap betide that hated wretch, That makes vs wretched by the death of thee: Than I can with to adders, spiders, toades, Or any creeping venomde thing that liues. If euer he haue child abortiue be it, Prodigious and vntimely brought to light: Whose vgly and vnnaturall aspect, May fright the hopefull mother at the view. If euer he haue wife, let her be made As miserable by the death of him, As I am made by my poore Lord and thee. Come now towards Chertsey with your holy loade, Taken from Paules to be interred there: And still as you are weary of the waight, Rest you whiles I lament King Henries corse.