Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation typicality 0.82 · 528 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
O bitter consequence! That Edward still should live true Noble Prince. Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull. Shall I be plain? I wish the Bastards dead, And I would have it suddenly performed. What sayst thou now? speak suddenly, be brief. Your Grace may do your pleasure. Tut, tut, thou art all Ice, thy kindness freezes: Say, have I thy consent, that they shall dye? Give me some little breath, some pause, dear Lord, Before I positively speak in this: I will resolve you herein presently. The King is angry, see he gnaws his Lip. I will converse with Iron-witted Fools, And unrespective Boys: none are for me, That look into me with considerate eyes, High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. Boy. My Lord. knowst thou not any, whom corrupting Gold Will tempt unto a close exploit of Death? I know a discontented Gentleman, Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit: Gold were as good as twenty Orators, And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing. What is his Name? His Name, my Lord, is Tirrell. I partly know the man: go call him hither, Boy. The deep revolving witty Buckingham, No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels. Hath he so long held out with me, untired, And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so. How now, Lord Stanley, what's the news? Know my loving Lord, the marquis Dorset As I hear, is fled to Richmond, In the parts where he abides. Come hither Catesby, rumour it abroad, That Anne my Wife is very grievous sick, I will take order for her keeping close. Inquire me out some mean poor Gentleman, Whom I will marry strait to Clarence Daughter: The Boy is foolish, and I fear not him. Look how thou dreamest: I say again, give out, That Anne, my Queen, is sick, and like to dye. About it, for it stands me much upon To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me. I must be married to my Brother's Daughter, Or else my Kingdom stands on brittle Glass: Murder her Brothers, and then marry her, Uncertain way of gain. But I am in So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin, Teare-falling Pity dwells not in this Eye. Is thy Name Tyrrel? Iames Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. Art thou indeed? Prove me, my gracious Lord. Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? Please you: But I had rather kill two enemies. Why then thou hast it: two deep enemies. Foes to my Rest, and my sweet sleeps disturbers, Are they that I would have thee deal upon: Tyrrel, I mean those Bastards in the Tower. Let me have open means to come to them, And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. Thou singest sweet Music: Hark, come hither Tyrrel, Go by this token: rise, and lend thine Ear, There is no more but so: say it is done, And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it. I will dispatch it strait. My Lord, I have considered in my mind, The late request that you did sound me in.
seed 43: T14 · seed 44: T9 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O bitter conſequence! That Edward ſtill ſhould liue true Noble Prince. Couſin, thou waſt not wont to be ſo dull. Shall I be plaine? I wiſh the Baſtards dead, And I would haue it ſuddenly perform'd. What ſay'ſt thou now? ſpeake ſuddenly, be briefe. Your Grace may doe your pleaſure. Tut, tut, thou art all Ice, thy kindneſſe freezes: Say, haue I thy conſent, that they ſhall dye? Giue me ſome litle breath, ſome pawſe, deare Lord, Before I poſitiuely ſpeake in this: I will reſolue you herein preſently. The King is angry, ſee he gnawes his Lippe. I will conuerſe with Iron-witted Fooles, And vnreſpectiue Boyes: none are for me, That looke into me with conſiderate eyes, High-reaching Buckingham growes circumſpect. Boy. My Lord. Know'ſt thou not any, whom corrupting Gold Will tempt vnto a cloſe exploit of Death? I know a diſcontented Gentleman, Whoſe humble meanes match not his haughtie ſpirit: Gold were as good as twentie Orators, And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing. What is his Name? His Name, my Lord, is Tirrell. I partly know the man: goe call him hither, Boy. The deepe reuoluing wittie Buckingham, No more ſhall be the neighbor to my counſailes. Hath he ſo long held out with me, vntyr'd, And ſtops he now for breath? Well, be it ſo. How now, Lord Stanley, what's the newes? Know my louing Lord, the Marqueſſe Dorſet As I heare, is fled to Richmond, In the parts where he abides. Come hither Catesby, rumor it abroad, That Anne my Wife is very grieuous ſicke, I will take order for her keeping cloſe. Inquire me out ſome meane poore Gentleman, Whom I will marry ſtraight to Clarence Daughter: The Boy is fooliſh, and I feare not him. Looke how thou dream'ſt: I ſay againe, giue out, That Anne, my Queene, is ſicke, and like to dye. About it, for it ſtands me much vpon To ſtop all hopes, whoſe growth may dammage me. I muſt be marryed to my Brothers Daughter, Or elſe my Kingdome ſtands on brittle Glaſſe: Murther her Brothers, and then marry her, Vncertaine way of gaine. But I am in So farre in blood, that ſinne will pluck on ſinne, Teare-falling Pittie dwells not in this Eye. Is thy Name Tyrrel? Iames Tyrrel, and your moſt obedient ſubiect. Art thou indeed? Proue me, my gracious Lord. Dar'ſt thou reſolue to kill a friend of mine? Pleaſe you: But I had rather kill two enemies. Why then thou haſt it: two deepe enemies. Foes to my Reſt, and my ſweet ſleepes diſturbers, Are they that I would haue thee deale vpon: Tyrrel, I meane thoſe Baſtards in the Tower. Let me haue open meanes to come to them, And ſoone Ile rid you from the feare of them. Thou ſing'ſt ſweet Muſique: Hearke, come hither Tyrrel, Goe by this token: riſe, and lend thine Eare, There is no more but ſo: ſay it is done, And I will loue thee, and preferre thee for it. I will diſpatch it ſtraight. My Lord, I haue conſider'd in my minde, The late requeſt that you did ſound me in.