Dekker, Thomas / Chettle, Henry / Haughton, William · published 1603 · first performed or written 1600 [Oct 16-Dec 29, payment] (Annals) comedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Then will not I inquire, thou dost but jest I know thou must not rob me, 'tis to try If I love them: no, no, here I read, That which strikes blind mine eyes, makes my heart bleed, Farewell, farewell, dear souls, adieu adieu, Your father sends and I must part from you, I must oh God I must, must is for Kings, And lo obedience for lo underlings. He shall not hale them thus, keep them perforce, This slave looks on them with a murdering eye. No, he shall not have them, knock out his brains, and save the little hop a my thumbs. Do if you dare. How now my hearts, what's the matter? What carest thou. This is poor Grissel, wife unto our Duke, And these her children, thus he sends her home, And thus he sends a serpent to devour, Their precious lives he brings commission, To hale them hence, but whither none can tell. Forbear, forbear. Take them from him perforce, Are these his children? So she says. Two sweet Ducks, and is this his wife? Yes, he has line with her. A pretty soul, sirrah thou wilt be hanged for this. Hang thyself. Beat him, but first take these two from his arms, I am a basket maker, and I swear I'll die before he bear away the babes. Oh rare, cry prentices and clubs, the corporation cannot be () sirrah set down thy baskets and to't pell-mell. Would I were rid of my office? What will you do, drive this rash fellow hence? The marquis is a tyrant and does worng. I would not for the world that he should hear thee. I would not for ten worlds but hear my Grissel. A tyrant, no he's mercy even herself, justice in triumph rides in his two eyes, Take heed how thou profanest high deities: Go Furio, get thee gone: good father help me To guard my dear Lords servant from this place, I know he'll do my pretty babes no harm, For see Furio looks gently: oh get thee gone, Pity sits on thy cheeks, but God can tell, My heart says my tongue lies, farewell farewell. Stay sirrah take thy purse. I let none fall. Half part. A purse of gold Furio is fallen from thee. It's none of mine, sirrah basketmaker, if my arms were not full, thou should have thy hands full: farewell Grissel, if thou never see thy children more, curse me, if thou dost see them again, thank God, adieu. Farewell and be hanged. I will thank God for all, why should I grieve, To lose my children? no no, I ought rather Rejoice, because they are borne to their Father. Daughter, here's nothing in this purse but gold. So much the better, Master we'll quickly turn it into silver. This purse that fellow did let fall, run run, Carry it him again, run Babulo, Away with it, 'tis laid to do us wrong.
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)
Then will not I inquire, thou dost but iest I know thou must not rob me, tis to try If I loue them: no, no, heere I read, That which strikes blinde mine eyes, makes my heart bleede, Farewell, farewell, deare soules, adue adue, Your father sendes and I must part from you, I must oh God I must, must is for Kings, And loe obedience for loe vnderlings. He shall not hale them thus, keep them perforce, This slaue lookes on them with a murdring eye. No, he shal not haue them, knocke out his braines, and saue the little hop a my thombes. Doe if you dare. How now my hearts, what's the matter? What car'st thou. This is poore Grissil, wife vnto our Duke, And these her children, thus he sendes her home, And thus he sends a serpent to deuour, Their pretious liues he brings commission, To hale them hence, but whyther none can tell. Forbeare, forbeare. Take them from him perforce, Are these his children? So she saies. Two sweet Duckes, and is this his wife? Yes, he has lyne with her. A pretty soule, sirra thou wilt be hang'd for this. Hang thy selfe. Beate him, but first take these two from his armes, I am a basket maker, and I sweare Ile dye before he beare away the babes. Oh rare, cry prentises and clubs, the corporation cannot be ( ) sirra set downe thy baskets and to't pell mell. Would I were rid of my office? What will you doe, driue this rashe fellowe hence? The Marquesse is a tyrant and does worng. I would not for the world that hee should heare thee. I would not for ten worlds but heare my Grissil. A tyrant, no he's mercy euen her selfe, Iustice in triumph rides in his two eyes, Take héede how thou prophanest high deityes: Goe Furio, get thee gone: good father helpe me To guard my deare Lords seruant from this place, I know hée'll doe my pretty babes no harme, For see Furio lookes gently: oh get thee gone, Pitty sits on thy cheekes, but God can tell, My heart saies my tongue lyes, farewell farewell. Stay sirra take thy purse. I let none fall. Halfe part. A purse of golde Furio is falne from thee. Its none of mine, sirra basket-maker, if my armes were not full, thou should haue thy handes full: farewel Grissill, if thou neuer see thy children more, curse mee, if thou dost see them againe, thanke God, adue. Farewell and be hang'd. I will thanke God for all, why should I grieue, To loose my children? no no, I ought rather Reioyce, because they are borne to their Father. Daughter, heere's nothing in this purse but golde. So much the better, Master we'll quickely turne it into siluer. This purse that fellow did let fall, run run, Carry it him againe, run Babulo, Away with it, tis laide to doe vs wrong.