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 · 520 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, when he that is my husband now, Came to me as I followed Henry's course, When scarce the blood was well washed from his hands, Which issued from my other angel husband, And that dead saint, which then, I weeping followed, O, when I say, I looked on Richards face, This was my wish, be thou quoth I accursed, For making me so young, so old a widow, And when thou wedst, let sorrow haunt thy bed, And be thy wife, if any be so mad, As miserable by the death of thee, As thou hast made me by my dear lords death, Lo, ear I can repeat this curse again, Even in so short a space, my woman's heart, grosselie grew captive to his honey words, And proved the subject of my own soul's curse, Which ever since hath kept my eyes from sleep, For never yet, one hour in his bed, Have I enjoyed the golden dew of sleep, But have been waked by his timorous dreams, Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick, And will no doubt, shortly be rid of me. Alas poor soul, I pity thy complaints. No more than from my soul I mourn for yours. Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory. Adieu poor soul, thou tak'st thy leave of it. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee. Go thou to Richard, and good Angels guard thee, Go thou to sanctuary, good thoughts possess thee, I to my grave where peace and rest lie with me, Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, And each hours joy wracked with a week of teen. Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham, Give me thy hand: Thus high by thy advice And thy assistance is king Richard seated: But shall we wear these honours for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them. Still live they, and for ever may they last. O Buckingham, now do I play the touch▪ To try if thou be currant gold indeed: Young Edward lives: think now what I would say. Say on my gracious sovereign. Why Buckingham, ● say I would be king. Why so you are my thrice renowned liege. Ha: am I king? 'tis so, but Edward lives. True noble prince. O bitter consequence, That Edward still should live true noble prince. Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so●dul: Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead▪ And I would have it suddenly performed. What sayst thou? speak suddenly, be brief. Your grace may do your pleasure. Tut, tut, thou art all y●e, thy kindness freezeth, Say, have I thy consent that they shall die? Give me some breath, some little pause my lord, Before I positively speak herein: I will resolve your grace immediately. The king is angry, see, he bites the lip. I will converse with iron witted fools And unrespective boys, none are for me That look into me with considerate ●i●s; Boy, high reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. My Lord. Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold Would tempt unto a close exploit of death.
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, when he that is my husband now, Came to me as I followed Henries course, When scarse the bloud was well washt from his handes, Which issued from my other angel husband, And that dead saint, which then, I weeping followed, O, when I say, I lookt on Richads face, This was my wish, be thou quoth I accurst, For making me so young, so olde a widow, And when thou wedst, let sorrow haunt thy bed, And be thy wife, if any be so madde, As miserable by the death of thee, As thou hast made me by my deare Lordes death, Loe, eare I can repeate this curse againe, Euen in so short a space, my womans hart, rosselie grewe captiue to his honie wordes, And prou'd the subiecte of my owne soules curse, Which euer since hath kept my eyes from sleepe, For neuer yet, one houre in his bed, Haue I enioyed the golden dew of sleepe, But haue bene waked by his timerous dreames, Besides, he hates me for my father Warwicke, And will no doubt, shortlie be rid of me. Alas poore soule, I pittie thy complaints. No more then from my soule I mourne for yours. Farewell, thou wofull welcomer of glorie. Adew poore soule, thou takst thy leaue of it. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee. Go thou to Richard, and good Angels garde thee, Go thou to sanctuarie, good thoughts possesse thee, I to my graue where peace and rest lie with me, Eightie odde yeares of sorrow haue I seene, And each houres ioy wrackt with a weeke of teene. Stand al apart. Coosin of Buckingham, Giue me thy hand: Thus high by thy aduice And thy assistance is king Richard seated: But shal we weare these honours for a day? Or shall they last, and we reioice in them. Stil liue they, and for euer may they last. O Buckingham, now do I plai the touch▪ To trie if thou be currant gold indeed: Young Edwad liues: thinke now what I would say. Saie on my gracious soueraigne. Whie Buckingham, saie I would be king. Whie so you are my thrice renowned liege. Ha: am I king? tis so, but Edward liues. True noble prince. O bitter consequence, That Edward stil should liue true noble prince. Coosin, thou wert not wont to be sodul: Shal I be plaine? I wish te bastards dead▪ And I would haue it suddenlie performde. What saist thou? speake suddenlie, be briefe. Your grace may doe your pleasure. Tut, tut, thou art all ye, thy kindnesse freezeth, Saie, haue I thy consent that they shal die? Giue me some breath, some little pause my lord, Before I positiuelie speake herein: I wil resolue your grace immediatlie. The king is angrie, see, he bites the lip. I wil conuerse with iron witted fooles And vnrespectiue boies, none are for me That looke into me with considerate is; Boy, high reaching Buckingham growes circumspect. My Lord. Knowst thou not any whom corrupting gold Would tempt vnto a close exploit of death.