Heywood, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [1592-1599] (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Touch her not son, upon thy life I charge thee, But keep off still, if thou wilt have my love. I am glad to hear ye are so well resolved, To bear the burden of my just displeasure. Thus then I'll do, alas poor soul, Shall I weep with thee? in faith poor heart I will, Be of good comfort, thou shalt have no harm, But if that kisses have the power to kill thee, Thus, thus, and thus, a thousand times i'll stab thee. Iane I forgive thee: what fort is so strong, But with besieging he will batter it? Weep not (sweet Iane) alas I know thy sex, Touched with the self-same weakness that thou art, And if my state had been as mean as thine, And such a beauty to allure his eye, (Though I may promise much to mine own strength) What might have happed to me, I cannot tell. Nay fear not, for I speak it with my heart, And in thy sorrow truly bear a part. Most high and mighty Queen, may I believe There can be found such mercy in a woman, And in a Queen, more than in a wife, So deeply wronged as I have wronged you? In this bright crystal mirror of your mercy, I see the greatness of my sin the more, And makes my fault more odious in mine eyes, Your princely pity now doth wound me more, Than all your threatenings ever did before. Rise my sweet Iane, I say thou shalt not kneel, Oh God for bid, that Edward's Queen should hate Her, whom she knows he both so dearly love, My love to her, may purchase me his love. Iane, speak well unto the King of me and mine, Remember not my sons o'erhasty speech, Thou art my sister, and I love thee so. I know thou mayest do much with my dear Lord, Speak well of us to him in any case, And I and mine will love and cherish thee. All I can do is all too little too, Tut to requite the least part of this grace, The dearest thoughts that harbour in this breast, Shall in your service only be expressed. What is my Iane with her? it is too true, See where she hath her down upon her knees. Why how now Bess? what, will ye wrong my Iane? Come hither love, what hath she done to thee? Oh royal Edward, love, love, thy beauteous Queen, The only perfect mirror of her kind, For all the choicest virtues can be named. Oh let not my bewitching looks withdraw Your dear affections from your dearer Queen, But to requite the grace that she hath shown, To me the worthless creature on this earth, To banish me the Court immediately, Great King let me but beg one boon of thee, That Shoares wife near do her more injury.
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)
Touch her not sonne, vpon thy life I charge thee, But kéepe off still, if thou wilt haue my loue. I am glad to heare ye are so well resolu'de, To beare the burthen of my iust displeasure. Thus then Ile doe, alas poore soule, Shall I wéepe with thée? in saith poore hart I will, Be of good comfort, thou shalt haue no harme, But if that kisses haue the power to kill thée, Thus, thus, and thus, a thousand times ile stab thée. Iane I forgiue thée: what fort is so strong, But with be sieging he will batter it? Wéepe not (sweete Iane) alas I know thy sexe, Toucht with the selfesame weaknes that thou art, And if my state had béen as meane as thine, And such a beautie to allure his eye, (Though I may promise much to mine owne strength) What might haue hapt to me, I cannot tell. Nay feare not, for I speake it with my hart, And in thy sorrow truly beare a part. Most high and mightie Quéene, may I beléeue There can be found such mercie in a woman, And in a Quéene, more then in a wife, So déeply wrongd as I haue wronged you? In this bright christall myrror of your mercie, I sée the greatnesse of my sinne the more, And makes my fault more odious in mine eyes, Your princely pitie now doth wound me more, Then all your threatnings euer did before. Rise my swéet Iane, I say thou shalt not knéele, Oh God for bid, that Edwards Quéene should hate Her, whom she knowes he both so dearely loue, My loue to her, may purchase me his loue. Iane, speake well vnto the King of me and mine, Remember not my sonnes ore-hastie spéech, Thou art my sister, and I loue thée so. I know thou maiest doe much with my déere Lord, Speake well of vs to him in any case, And I and mine will loue and cherish thee. All I can do is all too little too, Tut to requite the least part of this grace, The dearest thoughts that harbour in this breast, Shall in your seruice onely be exprest. What is my Iane with her it is too true, See where she hath her downe vpon her knees. Why how now Besse? what, will ye wrong my Iane? Come hither loue, what hath she done to thee? Oh royall Edward, loue, loue, thy beauteous Quéene, The onely perfect myrrour of her kind, For all the thoysest vertues can be nam'de. Oh let not my bewitching lookes withdraw Your deare affections from yo déerer Queene, But to requite the grace that she hath showne, To me the worthlesse creature on this earth, To banish me the Court immediately, Great King let me t beg one boone of thee, That Shoares wife nere do her more iniurie.