The Love of King David and Fair Bathsheba · chunk 25 of 30
Peele, George · published 1599 · first performed or written 1594 [1593-1594] (Annals) biblical play; history · Queen Elizabeth's Men (?) unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 466 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
O Ioab, Ioab, cruel ruthless Ioab, Herewith thou woundst thy Kingly sovereign's heart, Whose heavenly temper hates his children's blood, And will be sick I know for Absalon. O my dear father, that thy melting eyes Might pierce this thicket to behold thy son, Thy dearest son gored with a mortal dart: Yet Ioab pity me, pity my father, Ioab, Pity his soul's distress that mourns my life, And will be dead I know to hear my death. If he were so remorseful of thy state, Why sent he me against thee with the sword? All Ioab means to pleasure thee withal, Is to dispatch thee quickly of thy pain, Hold Absalon, Ioabs pity is in this, In this proud Absalon is Ioabs love. Such love, such pity Israel's God send thee, And for his love to David pity me, Ah my dear father, see thy bowels bleed, See death assault thy dearest Absalon, See, pity, pardon, pray for Absalon. See where the rebel in his glory hangs, Where is the virtue of thy beauty Absalon, Will any of us here now fear thy looks? Or be in love with that thy golden hair, Wherein was wrapped rebellion 'gainst thy sire, And cords prepared to stop thy father's breath? Our captain Ioab hath begun to us, And here's an end to thee, and all thy sins. Come let us take the beauteous rebel down, And in some ditch amids this darksome wood, Bury his bulk beneath a heap of stones, Whose stony heart did hunt his father's death. Well done tall soldiers take the Traitor down, And in this miry ditch inter his bones, Covering his hateful breast with heaps of stones, This shady thicket of dark Ephrami Shall ever lower on his cursed grave. Night Ravens and Owls shall ring his fatal knell, And sit exclaiming on his damned soul, There shall they heap their preys of Carrion, Till all his grave be clad with stinking bones, That it may loathe the sense of every man, So shall his end breed horror to his name, And to his traitorous fact eternal shame. Oh dreadful precedent of his just doom, Whose holy heart is never touched with ruth Of fickle beauty, or of glorious shapes, But with the virtue of an upright soul, Humble and zealous in his inward thoughts, Though in his person loathsome and deformed. Now since this story lends us other store, To make a third discourse of David's life, Adding thereto his most renowned death, And all their deaths, that at his death he judged, Here end we this, and what here wants to please, We will supply with treble willingness. What boots it Absalon, unhappy Absalon, Sighing I say what boots it Absalon, To have disclosed a far more worthy womb
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)
O Ioab, Ioab, cruell ruthlesse Ioab, Herewith thou woundst thy Kingly soueraignes heart, Whose heauenly temper hates his childrens bloud, And will be sicke I know for Absalon. O my deere father, that thy melting eyes Might pierce this thicket to behold thy sonne, Thy deerest sonne gor'de with a mortall dart▪ Yet Ioab pittie me, pittie my father, Ioab, Pittie his soules distresse that mournes my life, And will be dead I know to heare my death. If he were so remorsefull of thy state, Why sent he me against thee with the sword? All Ioab meanes to pleasure thee withall, Is to dispatch thee quickly of thy paine, Hold Absalon, Ioabs pittie is in this, In this prowd Absalon is Ioabs loue. Such loue, such pittie Israels God send thee, And for his loue to Dauid pittie me, Ah my deere father, see thy bowels bleed, See death assault thy deerest Absalon, See, pittie, pardon, pray for Absalon. See where the rebell in his glorie hangs, Where is the vertue of thy beautie Absalon, Will any of vs here now feare thy lookes? Or be in loue with that thy golden haire, Wherein was wrapt rebellion gainst thy sire, And cords prepar'd to stop thy fathers breath? Our captaine Ioab hath begun to vs, And heres an end to thee, and all thy sinnes. Come let vs take the beauteous rebell downe, And in some ditch amids this darkesome wood, Burie his bulke beneath a heape of stones, Whose stonie heart did hunt his fathers death. Well done tall souldiers take the Traitor downe, And in this myerie ditch interre his bones, Couering his hatefull breast with heapes of stones, This shadie thicket of darke Ephrami Shall euer lower on his cursed graue. Night Rauens and Owles shall ring his fatall knell, And sit exclaiming on his damned soule, There shall they heape their preyes of Carrion, Till all his graue be clad with stinking bones▪ That it may loth the sence of euery man, So shall his end breed horror to his name, And to his traitrous fact eternall shame. Oh dreadfull president of his iust doome, Whose holy heart is neuer toucht with ruth Of fickle beautie, or of glorious shapes, But with the vertue of an vpright soule, Humble and zealous in his inward thoughts, Though in his person loathsome and deform'd. Now since this storie lends vs other store, To make a third discourse of Dauids life, Adding thereto his most renowmed death, And all their deaths, that at his death he iudgd, Here end we this, and what here wants to please, We will supplie with treble willingnesse. What boots it Absalon, vnhappie Absalon, Sighing I say what boots it Absalon, To haue disclos'd a farre more worthy wombe