Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
Ah for our Father, for our dear Lord Clarence. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence. What stay had I but Edward, and he's gone? What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone. What stays had I, but they? and they are gone. Was never widow had so dear a loss. Were never Orphans had so dear a loss. Was never Mother had so dear a loss. Alas! I am the Mother of these Griefs, Their woes are parceled, mine is general. She for an Edward weeps, and so do I: I for a Clarence weeps, so doth not she: These Babes for Clarence weep, so do not they. Alas! you three, on me threefold distressed: Power all your tears, I am your sorrow's Nurse, And I will pamper it with Lamentation. Comfort dear Mother, God is much displeased, That you take with unthankfulness his doing. In common worldly things, 'tis called ungrateful, With dull unwillingness to repay a debt, Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent: Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, For it requires the Royal debt it lent you. Madam, bethink you like a careful Mother Of the young Prince your son: send strait for him, Let him be Crowned, in him your comfort lives. Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, And plant your joys in living Edward's Throne. Sister have comfort, all of us have cause To wail the dimming of our shining Star: But none can help our harms by wailing them. Madam, my Mother, I do cry you mercy, I did not see your Grace. Humbly on my knee, I crave your Blessing. God bless thee, and put meekness in thy breast, Love Charity, Obedience, and true Duty. Amen, and make me die a good old man, That is the butt-end of a Mother's blessing; I marvel that her Grace did leave it out. You clowdy-Princes, & hart-sorowing-Peeres, That bear this heavy mutual load of Moan, Now cheer each other, in each others Love: Though we have spent our Harvest of this King, We are to reap the Harvest of his Son. The broken rancour of your high-swollen hates, But lately splintered, knit, and joined together, Must gently be preserved, cherished, and kept: Me seemeth good, that with some little Train, Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be set Hither to London, to be crowned our King. Why with some little Train, My Lord of Buckingham? Marry my Lord, lest by a multitude, The new-healed wound of Malice should break out, Which would be so much the more dangerous, By how much the estate is green, and yet ungoverned. Where every Horse bears his commanding Rhine, And may direct his course as please himself, As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, In my opinion, aught to be prevented. I hope the King made peace with all of us, And the compact is firm, and true in me.
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)
Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord Clarence. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence. What ſtay had I but Edward, and hee's gone? What ſtay had we but Clarence? and he's gone. What ſtayes had I, but they? and they are gone. Was neuer widdow had ſo deere a loſſe. Were neuer Orphans had ſo deere a loſſe. Was neuer Mother had ſo deere a loſſe. Alas! I am the Mother of theſe Greefes▪ Their woes are parcell'd, mine is generall. She for an Edward weepes, and ſo do I: I for a Clarence weepes, ſo doth not ſhee: Theſe Babes for Clarence weepe, ſo do not they. Alas! you three, on me threefold diſtreſt: Power all your teares, I am your ſorrowes Nurſe, And I will pamper it with Lamentation. Comfort deere Mother, God is much diſpleas'd, That you take with vnthankfulneſſe his doing. In common worldly things, 'tis call'd vngratefull, With dull vnwillingneſſe to repay a debt, Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent: Much more to be thus oppoſite with heauen, For it requires the Royall debt it lent you. Madam, bethinke you like a carefull Mother Of the young Prince your ſonne: ſend ſtraight for him, Let him be Crown'd, in him your comfort liues. Drowne deſperate ſorrow in dead Edwards graue, And plant your ioyes in liuing Edwards Throne. Siſter haue comfort, all of vs haue cauſe To waile the dimming of our ſhining Starre: But none can helpe our harmes by wayling them. Madam, my Mother, I do cry you mercie, I did not ſee your Grace. Humbly on my knee, I craue your Bleſſing. God bleſſe thee, and put meeknes in thy breaſt, Loue Charity, Obedience, and true Dutie. Amen, and make me die a good old man, That is the butt-end of a Mothers bleſſing; I maruell that her Grace did leaue it out. You clowdy-Princes, & hart-ſorowing-Peeres▪ That beare this heauie mutuall loade of Moane, Now cheere each other, in each others Loue: Though we haue ſpent our Harueſt of this King, We are to reape the Harueſt of his Sonne. The broken rancour of your high-ſwolne hates, But lately ſplinter'd, knit, and ioyn'd together, Muſt gently be preſeru'd, cheriſht, and kept: Me ſeemeth good, that with ſome little Traine, Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be ſet Hither to London, to be crown'd our King. Why with ſome little Traine, My Lord of Buckingham? Marrie my Lord, leaſt by a multitude, The new-heal'd wound of Malice ſhould breake out, Which would be ſo much the more dangerous, By how much the eſtate is greene, and yet vngouern'd. Where euery Horſe beares his commanding Reine, And may direct his courſe as pleaſe himſelfe, As well the feare of harme, as harme apparant, In my opinion, ought to be preuented. I hope the King made peace with all of vs, And the compact is firme, and true in me.