The True Chronicle of King Leir (King Lear and his Three Daughters) · chunk 10 of 43
Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1590 [c.1588-1594] (Annals) history · Queen Elizabeth's Men (?) T58 Gallant talk and courtship: an Epicene-c typicality 0.81 · 464 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T58: jack, john, daw, dauphine, amorous, mistress, trve, ladies, wit, madame.
I have been silent all this while, my Lord, To see if any worthier than myself, Would once have spoke in poor Cordella's cause: But love or fear ties silence to their tongues. Oh, hear me speak for her, my gracious Lord, Whose deeds have not deserved this ruthless doom, As thus to disinherit her of all. Urge this no more, and if thou love thy life: I say, she is no daughter, that doth scorn To tell her father how she loveth him. whoever speaketh hereof to me again, I will esteem him for my mortal foe. Come, let us in, to celebrate with joy, The happy Nuptials of these lovely pairs. Ah, who so blind, as they that will not see The near approach of their own misery? Poor Lady, I extremely pity her: And whilst I live, each drop of my heart blood, Will I strain forth, to do her any good. My Lord, how do you brook this British air My Lord? I told you of this foolish humour, And bound you to the contrary, you know. Pardon me for once, my Lord; I did forget. My Lord again? then let's have nothing else, And so be ta'en for spies, and then 'tis well. 'swounds, I could bite my tongue in two for anger For God's sake name yourself some proper name. Call me Trofillus: I'll call thee Denapoll. Might I be made the Monarch of the world, I could not hit upon these names, I swear. Then call me Will, i'll call thee Jack. Well, be it so, for I have well deserved to be called Jack. Stand close; for here a British Lady cometh: A fairer creature ne'er mine eyes beheld. This is a day of joy unto my sisters, Wherein they both are married unto Kings; And I, by birth, as worthy as themselves, Am turned into the world, to seek my fortune. How may I blame the fickle Queen of Chance. That maketh me a pattern of her power? Ah, poor weak maid, whose imbecility Is far unable to endure these brunts. Oh, father Leir, how dost thou wrong thy child, Who always was obedient to thy will! But why accuse I fortune and my father? No, no, it is the pleasure of my God: And I do willingly embrace the rod. It is no Goddess; for she doth complaint On fortune, and th'unkindness of her father. These costly robes ill fitting my estate, I will exchange for other meaner habit. Now if I had a Kingdom in my hand, I would exchange it for a milkmaid's smock and petticoat, That she and I might shift our clothes together. I will betake me to my thread and Needle, And earn my living with my finger's ends.
seed 43: T54 · seed 44: T54 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I haue bin silent all this while, my Lord, To see if any worthyer then my selfe, Would once haue spoke in poore Cordellaes cause: But loue or feare tyes silence to their toungs. Oh, heare me speake for her, my gracious Lord, Whose deeds haue not deseru'd this ruthlesse doome, As thus to disinherit her of all. Vrge this no more, and if thou loue thy life: I say, she is no daughter, that doth scorne To tell her father how she loueth him. Who euer speaketh hereof to mee agayne, I will esteeme him for my mortall foe. Come, let vs in, to celebrate vith ioy, The happy Nuptialls of these louely payres. Ah, who so blind, as they that will not see The neere approch of their owne misery? Poore Lady, I extremely pitty her: And whilest I liue, eche drop of my heart blood, Will I strayne forth, to do her any good. My Lord, how do you brook this Brittish ayre My Lord? I told you of this foolish humour, And bound you to the contrary, you know. Pardon me for once, my Lord; I did forget. My Lord agayne? then let's haue nothing else, And so be cane for spyes, and then tis well. Swounds, I could bite my toung in two for angert For Gods sake name your selfe some proper name. Call me Trofillus: Ile call thee Denapoll. Might I be made the Monarch of the world, I could not hit vpon these names, I sweare. Then call me Will, ile call thee Iacke. Well, be it so, for I haue wel deseru'd to be cal'd lack. Stand close; for here a Brittish Lady cōmeth: A fayrer creature ne're mine eyes beheld. This is a day of ioy vnto my sisters, Wherein they both are maried vnto Kings; And I, by byrth, as worthy as themselues, Am turnd into the world, to seeke my fortune. How may I blame the fickle Queene of Chaunce. That maketh me a patterne of her power? Ah, poore weake mayd, whose imbecility Is far vnable to indure these brunts. Oh, father Leir, how dost thou wrong thy child, Who alwayes was obedient to thy will! But why accuse I fortune and my father? No, no, it is the pleasure of my God: And I do willingly imbrace the rod. It is no Goddesse; for she doth complaynt On fortune, and th'vnkindnesse of her father. These costly robes ill fitting my estate, I will exchange for other meaner habit. Now if I had a Kingdome in my hande, I would exchange it for a milkmaids smock and petycoate, That she and I might shift our clothes together. I will betake me to my threed and Needle, And earne my huing with my fingers ends.