The True Chronicle of King Leir (King Lear and his Three Daughters) · chunk 34 of 43
Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1590 [c.1588-1594] (Annals) history · Queen Elizabeth's Men (?) unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 512 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Ah, kind Perillus, that is it I fear, And makes me faint, or ever I come there. Can kindness spring out of ingratitude? Or love be reaped, where hatred hath been sown? Can Henbane join in league with mithridate? Or Sugar grow in Wormwood's bitter stalk? It cannot be, they are too opposite: And so am I to any kindness here. I have thrown Wormwood on the sugared youth, And like to Henbane poisoned the Fount, Whence flowed the mithridate of a child's goodwill: ay, like an envious thorn, have pricked the heart, And turned sweet Grapes, to sour unrelished Sloes: The causelesseire of my respectless breast, Hath soured the sweet milk of dame Nature's paps: My bitter words have galled her honey thoughts, And weeds of rancour choked the flower of grace. Then what remainder is of any hope, But all our fortunes will go quite aslope? Fear not, my Lord, the perfect good indeed, Can never be corrupted by the bad: A new fresh vessel still retains the taste Of that which first is poured into the same: And therefore, though you name yourself the thorn, The weed, the gall, the henbane & the wormwood; Yet she'll continue in her former state, The honey, milk, Grape, Sugar, mithridate. Thou pleasing Orator unto me in woe, Cease to beguile me with thy hopeful speeches O join with me, and think of nought but crosses, And then we'll one lament another's losses. Why, say the worst, the worst can be but death, And death is better than for to despair: Then hazard death, which may convert to life; Banish despair, which brings a thousand deaths. o'ercome with thy strong arguments, I yield, To be directed by thee, as thou wilt: As thou yield'st comfort to my crazed thoughts, Would I could yield the like unto thy body, Which is full weak, I know, and ill apaid, For want of fresh meat and due sustenance. Alack, my Lord, my heart doth bleed, to think That you should be in such extremity. Come, let us go, and see what God will send; When all means fail, he is the surest friend. This tedious journey all on foot, sweet Love, Cannot be pleasing to your tender joints, Which ne'er were used to these toilsome walks. I never in my life took more delight In any journey, than I do in this: Ic did me good, whenas we happed to light Amongst the merry crew of country folk, To see what industry and pains they took, To win them commendations 'mongst their friends. Lord, how they labour to bestir themselves, And in their quirks to go beyond the Moon, And so take on them with such antic fits, That one would think they were beside their wits! Come away, Roger, with your basket. Soft, Dame, here comes a couple of old youths, I must needs make myself fat with testing at them. Nay, prithee do not, they do seem to be Men much o'ergone with grief and misery. Let's stand aside, and hearken what they say.
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)
Ah, kind Perillus, that is it I feare, And makes me faynt, or euer I come there. Can kindnesse spring out of ingratitude? Or loue be reapt, where hatred hath bin sowne? Can Henbane ioyne in league with Methridate? Or Sugar grow in Wormwoods bitter stalke? It cannot be, they are too opposite: And so am I to any kindnesse here. I haue throwne Wormwood on the sugred youth, And like to Henbane poysoned the Fount, Whence flowed the Methridate of a childs goodwil: I, like an enuious thorne, haue prickt the heart, And turnd sweet Grapes, to sowre vnrelisht Sloes: The causelesseire of my respectlesse brest, Hath sowrd the sweet milk of dame Natures paps: My bitter words haue gauld her hony thoughts, And weeds of rancour chokt the flower of grace. Then what remainder is of any hope, But all our fortunes will go quite aslope? Feare not, my Lord, the perfit good indeed, Can neuer be corrupted by the bad: A new fresh vessell still retaynes the taste Of that which first is powr'd into the same: And therfore, though you name yourselfe the thorn, The weed, the gall, the henbane & the wormewood; Yet sheele continue in her former state, The hony, milke, Grape, Sugar, Methridate. Thou pleasing Orator vnto me in wo, Cease to beguile me with thy hopefull speaches O ioyne with me, and thinke of nought but crosses, And then weele one lament anothers losses. Why, say the worst, the worst can be but death, And death is better then for to despaire: Then hazzard death, which may conuert to life; Banish despaire, which brings a thousand deathes. Orecome with thy strong arguments, I yeeld, To be directed by thee, as thou wilt: As thou yeeldst comfort to my crazed thoughts, Would I could yeeld the like vnto thy body, Which is full weake, I know, and ill apayd, For want of fresh meat and due sustenance. Alack, my Lord, my heart doth bleed, to think That you should be in such extremity. Come, let vs go, and see what God will send; When all meanes faile, he is the surest friend. This tedious iourney all on foot, sweet Loue, Cannot be pleasing to your tender ioynts, Which ne're were vsed to these toylesome walks. I neuer in my life tooke more delight In any iourney, then I do in this: Ic did me good, when as we hapt to light Amongst the merry crue of country folke, To see what industry and paynes they tooke, To win them commendations mongst their friends. Lord, how they labour to bestir themselues, And in their quirks to go beyond the Moone, And so take on them with such antike fits, That one would think they were beside their wits! Come away, Roger, with your basket. Soft, Dame, here comes a couple of old youthes, I must needs make my selfe fat-with testing at them. Nay, prithy do not, they do seeme to be Men much o'regone with griefe and misery. Let's stand aside, and harken what they say.