The Scottish History of James the Fourth · chunk 29 of 40
Greene, Robert · published 1598 · first performed or written c.1590 (Annals) romance · Unknown unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Callet, me strumpet, caitiff as thou art But even a Princess borne, who scorn thy threats. Shall never French man say, an English maid, Of threats of foreign force will be afraid. You no dire vostre prieges, vrbleme merchants famme guarda your bresta, there me make you die on my morglay, God shield me hapless princes and a wife. They fight, and she is sore wounded. And save my soul, although I lose my life. Ah I am slain, some piteous power repay, This murderers cursed deed, that doth me slay. Elle est tout mort, me will run pur a wager, for fear me be surpryes and pendu for my labour. Be in je meu alera au roy any cits me affairs, je serra un chevalier, for this days travail. Where is this poor distressed gentleman? Here laid on ground, and wounded to the death. Ah gentle heart, how are these beauteous looks, Dimmed by the tyrant cruelties of death: Oh weary soul, break thou from forth my breast, And join thee with the soul I honoured most. Leave mourning friend, the man is yet alive, Some help me to convey him to my house: There will I see him carefully recured, And send privy search to catch the murderer. The God of heaven reward the courteous knight. And they bear out Dorothea. Stay Iaques, fear not, sheath thy murdering blade: Lo here thy King and friends are come abroad, To save thee from the terrors of pursuit: What is she dead? we Monsieur, elle is bless per lake testae, ouesles espanles, I warrant she no trouble you. Oh then my liege, how happy art thou grown, How favoured of the heavens, and blessed by love: methinks I see fair Ida in thine arms, Craving remission for her late attempt, methink I see her blushing steal a kiss: Uniting both your souls by such a sweet, And you my King suck Nectar from her lips. Why then delays your grace to gain the rest You long desired? why lose we forward time? Write, make me spokesman now, vow marriage, If she deny your favour let me die. Mighty and magnificent potentate, give credence to mine honourable good Lord, for I heard the Midwife swear at his nativity, that the Fairies gave him the property of the Thracian stone, for who toucheth it, is exempted from grief, and he that heareth my masters counsel, is already possessed of happiness: nay which is more miraculous, as the Noble man in his infancy lay in his Cradle, a swarm of Bees laid honey on his lips, in token of his eloquence. For melle dulcier fluit oratio. Your grace must bear with imperfections: This is exceeding love that makes him speak. Ateukin I am ravished in conceit, And yet depressed again with earnest thoughts, methinks this murder soundeth in mine ear, A threatening noise of dire and sharp revenge. I am incensed with grief, yet fain would joy, What may I do to end me of these doubts?
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)
Callet, me strumpet, Catiue as thou art But euen a Princesse borne, who scorne thy threats. Shall neuer French man say, an English mayd, Of threats of forraine force will be afraid. You no dire vostre prieges, vrbleme merchants famme guarda your bresta, there me make you die on my morglay, God sheeld me haplesse princes and a wife. They fight, and shee is sore wounded. And saue my soule, altho I loose my life. Ah I am slaine, some piteous power repay, This murtherers cursed deed, that doth me slay. Elle est tout mort, me will runne pur a wager, for feare me be surpryes and pendu for my labour. Be in Ie meu alera au roy auy cits me affaires, Ie serra vn chiualier, for this daies trauaile. Where is this poore distressed gentleman? Here laid on ground, and wounded to the death. Ah gentle heart, how are these beautious lookes, Dimd by the tyrant cruelties of death: Oh wearie soule, breake thou from forth my brest, And ioyne thee with the soule I honoured most. Leaue mourning friend, the man is yet aliue, Some helpe me to conuey him to my house: There will I see him carefully recured, And send priuie search to catch the murtherer. The God of heauen reward the curteous knight. And they beare out Dorothea. Stay Iaques, feare not, sheath thy murthering blade: Loe here thy King and friends are come abroad, To saue thee from the terrors of pursuite: What is she dead? Wee Monsieur, elle is blesse per lake teste, ouesles espanles, I warrant she no trouble you. Oh then my liege, how happie art thou growne, How fauoured of the heauens, and blest by loue: Mee thinkes I see faire Ida in thine armes, Crauing remission for her late attempt, Mee thinke I see her blushing steale a kisse: Vniting both your soules by such a sweete, And you my King suck Nectar from her lips. Why then delaies your grace to gaine the rest You long desired? why loose we forward time? Write, make me spokesman now, vow marriage, If she deny your fauour let me die. Mightie and magnificent potentate, giue credence to mine honorable good Lord, for I heard the Midwife sweare at his natiuitie, that the Faieries gaue him the propertie of the Thracian stone, for who toucheth it, is exempted from griefe, and he that heareth my Maisters counsell, is alreadie possessed of happinesse: nay which is more myraculous, as the Noble man in his infancie lay in his Cradle, a swarme of Bees laid honey on his lippes, in token of his eloquence. For melle dulcier fluit oratio. Your grace must beare with imperfections: This is exceeding loue that makes him speake. Ateukin I am rauisht in conceit, And yet deprest againe with earnest thoughts, Me thinkes this murther soundeth in mine eare, A threatning noyse of dire and sharp reuenge▪ I am incenst with greefe, yet faine would ioy, What may I do to end me of these doubts?