Markham, Gervase / Machin, Lewis · published 1608 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1608] (Annals) tragicomedy · Children of the King's Revels T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an typicality 0.82 · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
Then Philocles knit silence to my words, And mark thy doom: for thus my stricter will Loads grief upon thy vainer levity. Hence for the space and compass of one year Thou shalt abjure the liberty of speech, Thou shalt not speak for fully twelve months' space, For friend nor foe, for danger nor for death; But live like air, with silent emptiness. Break thou this vow, i'll hold thee for a villain: And all the world shall know thy perjury. Be heaven and earth a witness of my vow, And mine eternal silence, I am dumb. Why so, now shall I not be troubled with vain chat Or idle prate of idle wantonness: For love I cannot, therefore 'tis in vain, Would all my suitors tongues I thus could rain, Then should I live free from feigned sighs and groans, With O take pity, 'tis your servant moans, And such harsh stuff, that frets me to the heart: And sonnets made of Cupid's burning dart. Of Venus' lip, and Juno's majesty. Then were I freed from fools and foolery. In May the cuckoo sings, then she'll come hither, Her voice and yours will rarely tune together. Prince Philocles, the king would speak with you: Prince Philocles, the king would speak with you, Prince Philocles, the king would speak with you. The pox rot off your fingers for this blow, It is coronation day, thorough all my skull, There's such a fatal ringing in my brain, Has won the felt, has laid five fingers on; But 'twas a knavish part of him to play so. Hear me you Gods for this my open wrong, Make short his fingers as you have his tongue. 'tis not man's fortune, envy or neglect, Which makes him miserable, but 'tis mean fate, Even sole predestination, a firm gift, Fixed to his birth, before the world was made, For were it otherwise, then within our lives, We should find some distractions, errors change. And other toys of much uncertainty: But my mishaps are fixed so to my blood, They have no sire but my creation: The Queen out of suspicion that my love, First set an edge upon the King's desires, And made him woo her with a victor's sword, Casts me from favour, seizes all my lands, And turns my naked fortunes to the cold. The King made proud with purchase of his wish Neglects my sufferance for him, and o'er looks, The low-tide of my fortunes; lest my woes Should speak my wrongs to his ingratitude; The whilst those lords whose supple hams have bowed To do me formal reverence, now despise And slight me in their meanest compliments: O 'tis a torment more than hell yet knows To be an honest flatterer, or to live A saint in Limbo, which that I may prevent, I'll be nor best nor worst, but all indifferent. But here comes a noble man, I must turn petitioner. My Lord, may I not see the king?
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Then Philocles knit silence to my words, And marke thy doome: for thus my strickter will Loads griefe vpon thy vainer leuity. Hence for the space and compasse of one yeare Thou shalt abiure the liberty of speech, Thou shalt not speake for fully twelue months space, For friend nor foe, for danger nor for death; But liue like aire, with silent emptinesse. Breake thou this vow, i'le hold thee for a villaine: And all the world shall know thy periury. Be heauen and earth a witnesse of my vow, And mine eternall silence, I am dumbe. Why so, now shal I not be troubled with vaine chat Or idle prate of idle wantonnesse: For loue I cannot, therefore tis in vaine, Would all my sutors tongues I thus could raine, Then should I liue free from faind sighes and groanes, With O take pitty, tis your seruant moanes, And such harsh stuffe, that frets me to the heart: And sonnets made of Cupids burning dart. Of Venus lip, and Iunoes maiestie. Then were I freed from fooles and foolerie. In May the cuckoe sings, then sheel'e come hither, Her voice and yours will rarely tune together. Prince Philocles, the king would speake with you: Prince Philocles, the king would speake with you, Prince Philocles, the king would speake with you. The pox rot off your fingers for this blow, It is coronation day, thorow all my scull, Theres such a fatall ringing in my braine, Has woone the selt, has laid fiue fingers on; But twas a knauish part of him to play so. Heare me you Gods for this my open wrong, Make short his fingers as you haue his tongue. Tis not mans fortune, enuy or neglect, Which makes him miserable, but tis meane fate, Euen sole predestination, a firme gift, Fixt to his birth, before the world was made, For were it otherwise, then within our liues, We should finde some distractions, errours change. And other toies of much vncertaintie: But my mishaps are fixt so to my blood, They haue no sire but my creation: The Queene out of suspition that my loue, First set an edge vpon the Kings desires, And made him wooe her with a victors sword, Casts me from fauour, seazes all my lands, And turnes my naked fortunes to the cold. The King made proud with purchase of his wish Neglects my sufferance for him, and ore lookes, The low-tide of my fortunes; lest my woes Should speake my wrongs to his ingratitude; The whil'st those lords whose supple hams haue bow'd To doe me formal reuerence, now despise And sleight me in their meanest compliments: O tis a torment more then hell yet knowes To be an honest flatterer, or to liue A saint in Limbo, which that I may preuent, Ile be nor best nor worst, but all indifferent. But here comes a noble man, I must turne petitioner. My Lord, may I not see the king?