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 · 488 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.
Peace children, peace, the King doth love you well, Incapable and shallow innocents, You cannot guess who caused your father's death. Granam we can: For my good Uncle Gloucester Told me, the King provoked by the Queen, Devisd impeachments to imprison him: And when he told me so, he wept, And hugged me in his arm, and kindly kissed my cheek▪ And bade me rely on him as in my father, And he would love me dearly as his child. Oh that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, And with a virtuous visaid hide foul guile: He is my son, yea, and therein my shame: Yet from my dogs he drew not this deceit. Think you my Uncle did dissemble Granam? I boy. I cannot think it, hark what noise is this. Oh who shall hinder me to wail and weep? To chide my fortune, and torment myself? I'll join with black despair against my soul, And to myself become an enemy. What means this scene of rude impatience. To make an act of tragic violence; Edward, my Lord, your son our King is dead. Why grow the branches, now the root is withered? Why whither not the leaves, the sap being gone? If you will live, lament: if die, be brief: That our swiftwinged souls may catch the Kings, Or like obedient subjects, follow him To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. Ah somuch interest have I in thy sorrow, As I had title in thy noble husband: I have bewept a worthy husband's death, And lmed by looking on his images. But now two mirrors of his Princely semblance, Are cracked in pieces by malignant death: And I for comfort have but one false glass, Which grieves me when I see my shame in him. Thou art a widow, yet thou art a mother, And hast the comfort of thy children left thee: But death hath snatched my children from mine arms, And plucked two crutches from my feeble lummes, Edward and Clarence, Oh what cause have I Then, being but moiety of my grief, To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries? Good Aunt, you wept not for our father's death, How can we aid you with our kindred's ●●ares. Our fatherless distress was left vnmoand. Your widows dolours likewise be unwept. Give me no help in lamentation, I am not barren to bring forth laments: All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I being governed by the warry moan, May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world: Oh for my husband, for my heir Lo: Edward. Oh for our father, for our dear Lo: Clarence. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence. What stay had I but Edward, and he is gone? What stay had we but Clarence, and he is gone? What stays had I but they, and they are gone? Was neuer Widow, had so dear a loss.
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)
Peace children, peace, the King doth loue you wel, Incapable and shallow innocents, You cannot guesse who causde your fathers death. Granam we can: For my good Vnckle Glocester Tould me, the King prouoked by the Queene, Deuisd impeachments to imprison him: And when he tould me so, he wept, And hugd me in his arme, and kindly kist my cheeke▪ And bad me rely on him as in my father, And he would lou me dearely as his child. Oh that deceit should steale such gentle shapes, And with a vertuous visaid hide foule guile: He is my sonne, yea, and therein my shame: Yet from my dogs he drew not this deceit. Thinke you my Vnckle did dissemble Granam? I boy. I cannot thinke it, hark what noise is this. Oh who shal hinder me to waile and weepe? To chide my fortune, and torment my selfe? Ile ioine with blacke despaire against my soule, And to my selfe become an enemy. What meanes this sceane of rude impatience. To make an act of tragicke violence; Edward, my Lord, your sonne our King is dead. Why grow the branches, now the roote is witherd? Why wither not the leaues, the sap being gone? If you will liue, lament: if die, be briefe: That our swiftwinged soules may catch the Kings, Or like obedient subiects, follow him To his new kingdome of perpetuall rest. Ah somuch interest haue I in thy sorrow, As I had title in thy noble husband: I haue bewept a worthy husbands death, And lm'd by looking on his images. Bt now two mirrours of his Princely semblance, Are crackt in pieces by malignant death: And I for comfort haue but one false glasse, Which grieues me when I see my shame in him. Thou art a widdow, yet thou art a mother, And hast the comfort of thy children left thee: But death hath snatcht my children from mine armes, And pluckt two crutches from my feeble lummes, Edward and Clarence, Oh what cause haue I Then, being but moity of my griefe, To ouergo thy plaints and drowne thy cries? Good Aunt, you wept not for our fathers death, How can we aide you with our kindreds ares. Our fatherlesse distresse was left vnmoand. Your widdowes dolours likewise be vnwept. Giue me no help in lamentation, I am not barren to bring foorth laments: All springs reduce their currents to mine eies, That I being gouernd by the warry moane, May send foorth plenteous teares to drowne the world: Oh for my husband, for my eire Lo: Edward. Oh for our father, for our deare Lo: Clarence. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence. What stay had I but Edward, and he is gone? What stay had we but Clarence, and he is gone? Wha staies had I but they, and they are gone? Wa neucr Widdow, had so deare a losse.