Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Quiet untroubled soul, Awake, awake: Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake. Dream on thy Cousins Smothered in the Tower: Let us be laid within thy bosom Richard, And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death, Thy Nephew's soul bids thee despair and dye. Sleep Richmond, Sleep in Peace, and wake in joy, Good Angels guard thee from the Boars annoy, Live, and be get a happy race of Kings, Edward's unhappy Sons, do bid thee flourish. Richard, thy Wife, That wretched Anne thy Wife, That never slept a quiet hour with thee, Now fills thy sleep with perturbations, To morrow in the Battle, think on me, And fall thy edgelesse Sword, despair and dye. Thou quiet soul, Sleep thou a quiet sleep: Dream of Success, and Happy Victory, Thy adversaries' Wife doth pray for thee. The first was I That helped thee to the Crown: The last was I that felt thy Tyranny. O, in the Battle think on Buckingham, And dye in terror of thy guiltiness. Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death, Fainting despair; despairing yield thy breath. I died for hope Ere I could lend thee Aid; But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismayed: God, and good Angels fight on Richmond's side, And Richard fall in height of all his pride. Give me another Horse, bind up my Wounds: Have mercy Iesu. Soft, I did but dream. O coward Conscience! how dost thou afflict me? The Lights burn blue. It is not dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What? do I fear myself? There's none else by, Richard loves Richard, that is I am I. Is there a Murderer here? No; Yes, I am: Then fly; What from myself? Great reason: why? Lest I Revenge. What? myself upon myself? Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? For any good That I myself, have done unto myself? O no. Alas, I rather hate myself, For hateful Deeds committed by myself. I am a Villain: yet I Lie, I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well: Fool, do not flatter. My Conscience hath a thousand several Tongues, And every Tongue brings in a several Tale, And every Tale condemns me for a Villain; Perjury, in the highest Degree, Murder, stern murder, in the dyr'st degree, All several sins, all us d in each degree, Throng all to ' th' Bar, crying all, Guilty, Guilty. I shall despair, there is no Creature loves me; And if I die, no soul shall pity me. Nay, wherefore should they? Since that I myself, Find in myself, no pity to myself. Me thought, the Souls of all that I had murdered Came to my Tent, and every one did threat To morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. My Lord. Who's there? Ratcliffe my Lord, 'tis I: the early Village Cock Hath twice done salutation to the Morn, Your Friends are up, and buckle on their Armour. O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear.
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)
Quiet vntroubled ſoule, Awake, awake: Arme, fight, and conquer, for faire Englands ſake. Dreame on thy Couſins Smothered in the Tower: Let vs be laid within thy boſome Richard, And weigh thee downe to ruine, ſhame, and death, Thy Nephewes ſoule bids thee diſpaire and dye. Sleepe Richmond, Sleepe in Peace, and wake in Ioy, Good Angels guard thee from the Boares annoy, Liue, and be get a happy race of Kings, Edwards vnhappy Sonnes, do bid thee flouriſh. Richard, thy Wife, That wretched Anne thy Wife, That neuer ſlept a quiet houre with thee, Now filles thy ſleepe with perturbations, To morrow in the Battaile, thinke on me, And fall thy edgeleſſe Sword, diſpaire and dye. Thou quiet ſoule, Sleepe thou a quiet ſleepe: Dreame of Succeſſe, and Happy Victory, Thy Aduerſaries Wife doth pray for thee. The firſt was I That help'd thee to the Crowne: The laſt was I that felt thy Tyranny. O, in the Battaile think on Buckingham, And dye in terror of thy guiltineſſe. Dreame on, dreame on, of bloody deeds and death, Fainting diſpaire; diſpairing yeeld thy breath. I dyed for hope Ere I could lend thee Ayde; But cheere thy heart, and be thou not diſmayde: God, and good Angels fight on Richmonds ſide, And Richard fall in height of all his pride. Giue me another Horſe, bind vp my Wounds: Haue mercy Ieſu. Soft, I did but dreame. O coward Conſcience! how doſt thou afflict me? The Lights burne blew. It is not dead midnight. Cold fearefull drops ſtand on my trembling fleſh. What? do I feare my Selfe? There's none elſe by, Richard loues Richard, that is I am I. Is there a Murtherer heere? No; Yes, I am: Then flye; What from my Selfe? Great reaſon: why? Leſt I Reuenge. What? my Selfe vpon my Selfe? Alacke, I loue my Selfe. Wherefore? For any good That I my Selfe, haue done vnto my Selfe? O no. Alas, I rather hate my Selfe, For hatefull Deeds committed by my Selfe. I am a Villaine: yet I Lye, I am not. Foole, of thy Selfe ſpeake well: Foole, do not flatter. My Conſcience hath a thouſand ſeuerall Tongues, And euery Tongue brings in a ſeuerall Tale, And euerie Tale condemnes me for a Villaine; Periurie, in the high'ſt Degree, Murther, ſterne murther, in the dyr'ſt degree, All ſeuerall ſinnes, all vs d in each degree, Throng all to 'th Barre, crying all, Guilty, Guilty. I ſhall diſpaire, there is no Creature loues me; And if I die, no ſoule ſhall pittie me. Nay, wherefore ſhould they? Since that I my Selfe, Finde in my Selfe, no pittie to my Selfe. Me thought, the Soules of all that I had murther'd Came to my Tent, and euery one did threat To morrowes vengeance on the head of Richard. My Lord. Who's there? Ratcliffe my Lord, 'tis I: the early Village Cock Hath twice done ſalutation to the Morne, Your Friends are vp, and buckle on their Armour. O Ratcliffe, I feare, I feare.