1 If You Know Not Me You Know Nobody, or The Troubles of Queen Elizabeth · chunk 20 of 23
Heywood, Thomas · published 1605 · first performed or written 1604 [1604-1605; revised c.1632] (Annals) history · Queen Anne's Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Where lies your grief? Where yours and all good subjects else should lie, near at the heart, this confirmation I do greatly dread, For now our true religion will decay, I do divine whoever lives seven year, Shall see no Religion here but heresy. Come come my Lord, this is but for a show, Our Queen I warrant wishes in her heart, Her sister Princess were without her head. No, no my Lords, this peace is natural, This combination is without deceit, But I will once more write to incense the Queen, The plot is laid, thus it shallbe performed: Sir Harry, you shall go attach her servant Upon suspicion, of some treachery, Wherein the Princess shallbe accessary, If this do fail, my policy is down, But I grow faint, the fever steals on me, Death like a vulture tires upon my heart, I'll leave you two to prosecute this drift, My bones to earth I give, to heaven my soul lift. Madam Clarentia, is my Lady stirring? Yes master Gage, but heavy at the heart, For she was frighted with a dream this night. She said, she dreamt her sister was new married, And sat upon a high Imperial throne, That she herself was cast into a dungeon, Where enemies environed her about, Offering their weapons to her naked breast; Nay they would scarcely give her leave to pray, They made such haste to hurry her away. Heaven shield my Mistress, and make her friends increase, Convert her foes, estate her in true peace. Then did I dream of weddings, and of flowers, methought I was within the finest garden, That ever mortal eye did yet behold, Then straight methought some of the chief were picked To dress the bride, O 'twas the rarest show, To see the bride go smiling longest the streets, As if she went to happiness eternal. Oh most unhappy dream, my fear is now As great as yours, before it was but small, Come let's go comfort her, that joys us all. Winchester's dead, O God upon even at his death, He showed his malice to the sweet young Princess, God pardon him, his soul must answer all, She's still preserved, and still her foes do fall, The Queen is much besotted on these Prelates, For there's another raised more base than he, Pool that Arch, for truth and honesty. My Lord of Sussex I can tell ill news, The Cardinal Pool that now was firmly well, Is suddenly fallen sick and like to die. Let him go, why, then there's a fall of Prelates. This realm will never stand in perfect state, Till all their faction be clear ruinated. Sir, Harry do you hear the whispering in the Court, They say the Queen is craysy very ill. How hard you that? 'tis common through the house. 'tis a sad Court my Lord. What's the matter say: how fairs the Queen?
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)
VVhere lyes your greife? VVhere yours and all good subiects els should lye, Neere at the hart, this confirmation I doe greatly dread, For now our true religion will decay, I do diuine who euer liues seauen yeare, Shall see no Religion here but heresye. Come come my Lord, this is but for a show, Our Queene I warrant wishes in her hart, Her sister Princesse were without her head. No, no my Lords, this peace is naturall, This combination is without deceyt, But I will once more write to incence the Queene, The plot is laid, thus it shalbe perform'd: Sir Harry, you shall goe attach her seuant Vppon suspition, of some trechery, VVherin the Princesse shalbe accessary, If this do faile, my pollicy is downe, But I grow faynt, the feauer steales on me, Death like a vulture tyres vpon my hart, Ile leaue you two to prosecute this drift, My bones to earth I giue, to heauen my soule lift. Madam Clarentia, is my Lady stirring? Yes master Gage, but heauie at the hart, For she was frited with a dreame this night. She said, she drempt her sister was new married, And sat vpon a high Emperiall throne, That she her selfe was cast into a dungeon, Where enemyes enuiron'd her about, Offering their weapons to her naked brest; Nay they would scarcly giue her leaue to pray, They made such hast to hurry her away. Heauen sheild my Mistres, and make her frends increase, Conuert her foes, estate her in true peace. Then did I dreame of weddings, and of flowers, Me thought I was within the finest garden, That euer mortall eie did yet behould, Then strayght me thought some of the cheife were pickt To dresse the bride, O 'twas the rarest show, To see the bride goe smiling longst the streets, As if she went to happynes eternall. Oh most vnhappy dreame, my feare is now As great as yours, before it was but small, Come let's goe comfort her, that ioyes vs all. Winchester's dead, O God vppon euen at his death, He shewd his mallice to the sweete young Princesse, God pardon him, his soule must answere all, She's still preseru'd, and still her foes do fall, The Queene is much besotted on these Prelates, For ther's another rays'd more base then he, Poole that Arch, for truth and honestie. My Lord of Sussex I can tell ill newes, The Cardinall Poole that now was firmly well, Is sodenly falne sicke and like to die. Let him goe, why, then ther's a fall of Prelates. This realme will neuer stand in perfect state, Till all their faction be cleare ruinate. Sir, Harry do you heare the whispring in the Court, They say the Queene is craysy very ill. How hard you that? Tis common through the house. Tis a sad Court my Lord. What's the matter say: how fayres the Queene?