Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Even all I have; I, and myself and all, Will I withal endow a child of thine: So in the Lethe of thy angry soul, Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs, Which thou supposest I have done to thee. Be brief, lest that the process of thy kindness Last longer telling then thy kindness date. Then know, That from my Soul, I love thy Daughter. My daughter's Mother thinks it with her soul. What do you think? That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul So from thy Souls love didst thou love her Brothers, And from my heart's love, I do thank thee for it. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning: I mean that with my Soul I love thy daughter, And do intent to make her Queen of England. Well then, who dost thou mean shallbe her King. Even he that makes her Queen: Who else should be? What, thou? Even so: How think you of it? How canst thou woe her? That I would learn of you, As one being best acquainted with her humour. And wilt thou learn of me? Madam, with all my heart. Send to her by the man that slew her Brothers, A pair of bleeding hearts: thereon engrave Edward and York, then haply will she weep: Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret Did to thy Father, steeped in Rutland's blood, A hand-kercheefe, which say to her did dreyne The purple sap from her sweet Brother's body, And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal. If this inducement move her not to love, Send her a Letter of thy Noble deeds: Tell her, thou mad'st away her Uncle Clarence, Her Uncle Rivers, I (and for her sake) Mad'st quick conveyance with her good Aunt Anne. You mock me Madam, this not the way To win your daughter. There is no other way, Unless thou couldst put on some other shape, And not be Richard, that hath done all this. Say that I did all this for love of her. Nay then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee Having bought love, with such a bloody spoil. Look what is done, cannot be now amended: Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, Which after-houres gives leisure to repent. If I did take the Kingdom from your Sons, To make amends, I'll give it to your daughter: If I have killed the issue of your womb, To quicken your increase, I will beget Mine issue of your blood, upon your Daughter: A Grandams name is little less in love, Then is the doting Title of a Mother; They are as Children but one step below, Even of your metal, of your very blood: Of all one pain, save for a night of groans Endured of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. Your Children were vexation to your youth, But mine shall be a comfort to your Age, The loss you have, is but a Son being King, And by that loss, your Daughter is made Queen.
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)
Euen all I haue; I, and my ſelfe and all, Will I withall indow a childe of thine: So in the Lethe of thy angry ſoule, Thou drowne the ſad remembrance of thoſe wrongs, Which thou ſuppoſeſt I haue done to thee. Be breefe, leaſt that the proceſſe of thy kindneſſe Laſt longer telling then thy kindneſſe date. Then know, That from my Soule, I loue thy Daughter. My daughters Mother thinkes it with her ſoule. What do you thinke? That thou doſt loue my daughter from thy ſoule So from thy Soules loue didſt thou loue her Brothers, And from my hearts loue, I do thanke thee for it. Be not ſo haſty to confound my meaning: I meane that with my Soule I loue thy daughter, And do intend to make her Queene of England. Well then, who doſt yu meane ſhallbe her King. Euen he that makes her Queene: Who elſe ſhould bee? What, thou? Euen ſo: How thinke you of it? How canſt thou woo her? That I would learne of you, As one being beſt acquainted with her humour. And wilt thou learne of me? Madam, with all my heart. Send to her by the man that ſlew her Brothers, A paire of bleeding hearts: thereon ingraue Edward and Yorke, then haply will ſhe weepe: Therefore preſent to her, as ſometime Margaret Did to thy Father, ſteept in Rutlands blood, A hand-kercheefe, which ſay to her did dreyne The purple ſappe from her ſweet Brothers body, And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withall. If this inducement moue her not to loue, Send her a Letter of thy Noble deeds: Tell her, thou mad'ſt away her Vnckle Clarence, Her Vnckle Riuers, I (and for her ſake) Mad'ſt quicke conueyance with her good Aunt Anne. You mocke me Madam, this not the way To win your daughter. There is no other way, Vnleſſe thou could'ſt put on ſome other ſhape, And not be Richard, that hath done all this. Say that I did all this for loue of her. Nay then indeed ſhe cannot chooſe but hate thee Hauing bought loue, with ſuch a bloody ſpoyle. Looke what is done, cannot be now amended: Men ſhall deale vnaduiſedly ſometimes, Which after-houres giues leyſure to repent. If I did take the Kingdome from your Sonnes, To make amends, Ile giue it to your daughter: If I haue kill'd the iſſue of your wombe, To quicken your encreaſe, I will beget Mine yſſue of your blood, vpon your Daughter: A Grandams name is little leſſe in loue, Then is the doting Title of a Mother; They are as Children but one ſteppe below, Euen of your mettall, of your very blood: Of all one paine, ſaue for a night of groanes Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like ſorrow. Your Children were vexation to your youth, But mine ſhall be a comfort to your Age, The loſſe you haue, is but a Sonne being King, And by that loſſe, your Daughter is made Queene.