Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.80 · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Oh Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes: God witness with me, I have wept for thine. Bear with me: I am hungry for revenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it. Thy Edward he is dead, that killed my Edward, The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward: Young York, he is but boot, because both they Matched not the high perfection of my loss. Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabbed my Edward, And the beholders of this frantic play, Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Gray, Untimely smothered in their dusky Graves. Richard yet lives, Hell's black Intelligencer, Only reserved their Factor, to buy souls, And send them thither: But at hand, at hand Ensues his piteous and unpitied end. Earth gapes, Hell burns, Fiends roar, Saints pray, To have him suddenly conveyed from hence: Cancel his bond of life, dear God I pray, That I may live and say, The Dog is dead. O thou didst prophesy, the time would come, That I should wish for thee to help me curse That botteled Spider, that foul bunch-backed Toad. I called thee then, vain flourish of my fortune: I called thee then, poor Shadow, painted Queen, The presentation of but what I was; The flattering Index of a direful Pageant; One heaved a high, to be hurled down below: A Mother only mocked with two fair Babes; A dream of what thou wast, a garish Flag To be the aim of every dangerous Shot; A sign of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble; A Queen in jest, only to fill the Scene. Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brothers? Where be thy two Sons? Wherein dost thou joy? Who sues, and kneels, and says, God save the Queen? Where be the bending Peers that flattered thee? Where be the thronging Troops that followed thee? Decline all this, and see what now thou art. For happy Wife, a most distressed Widow: For joyful Mother, one that wails the name: For one being sued too, one that humbly sues: For Queen, a very Caitiff, crowned with care: For she that scorned at me, now scorned of me: For she being feared of all, now fearing one: For she commanding all, obeyed of none. Thus hath the course of justice whirled about, And left thee but a very prey to time, Having no more but Thought of what thou wast. To torture thee the more, being what thou art, Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not Usurp the just proportion of my Sorrow? Now thy proud Neck, bears halfe my burdened yoke, From which, even here I slip my wearied head, And leave the burden of it all, on thee. Farewell York's wife, and Queen of sad mischance, These English woes, shall make me smile in France. O thou well skilled in Curses, stay awhile, And teach me how to curse mine enemies.
seed 43: T44 · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Oh Harries wife, triumph not in my woes: God witneſſe with me, I haue wept for thine. Beare with me: I am hungry for reuenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it. Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward, The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward: Yong Yorke, he is but boote, becauſe both they Matcht not the high perfection of my loſſe. Thy Clarence he is dead, that ſtab'd my Edward, And the beholders of this franticke play, Th' adulterate Haſtings, Riuers, Ʋaughan, Gray, Vntimely ſmother'd in their dusky Graues. Richard yet liues, Hels blacke Intelligencer, Onely reſeru'd their Factor, to buy ſoules, And ſend them thither: But at hand, at hand Inſues his pittious and vnpittied end. Earth gapes, Hell burnes, Fiends roare, Saints pray, To haue him ſodainly conuey'd from hence: Cancell his bond of life, deere God I pray, That I may liue and ſay, The Dogge is dead. O thou did'ſt propheſie, the time would come, That I ſhould wiſh for thee to helpe me curſe That bottel'd Spider, that foule bunch-back'd Toad. I call'd thee then, vaine flouriſh of my fortune: I call'd thee then, poore Shadow, painted Queen, The preſentation of but what I was; The flattering Index of a direfull Pageant; One heau'd a high, to be hurl'd downe below: A Mother onely mockt with two faire Babes; A dreame of what thou waſt, a gariſh Flagge To be the ayme of euery dangerous Shot; A ſigne of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble; A Queene in ieaſt, onely to fill the Scene. Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brothers? Where be thy two Sonnes? Wherein doſt thou Ioy? Who ſues, and kneeles, and ſayes, God ſaue the Queene? Where be the bending Peeres that flattered thee? Where be the thronging Troopes that followed thee? Decline all this, and ſee what now thou art. For happy Wife, a moſt diſtreſſed Widdow: For ioyfull Mother, one that wailes the name: For one being ſued too, one that humbly ſues: For Queene, a very Caytiffe, crown'd with care: For ſhe that ſcorn'd at me, now ſcorn'd of me: For ſhe being feared of all, now fearing one: For ſhe commanding all, obey'd of none. Thus hath the courſe of Iuſtice whirl'd about, And left thee but a very prey to time, Hauing no more but Thought of what thou waſt. To torture thee the more, being what thou art, Thou didſt vſurpe my place, and doſt thou not Vſurpe the iuſt proportion of my Sorrow? Now thy proud Necke, beares halfe my burthen'd yoke, From which, euen heere I ſlip my wearied head, And leaue the burthen of it all, on thee. Farwell Yorkes wife, and Queene of ſad miſchance, Theſe Engliſh woes, ſhall make me ſmile in France. O thou well skill'd in Curſes, ſtay a-while, And teach me how to curſe mine enemies.