The Golden Age, or The Lives of Jupiter and Saturn · chunk 7 of 36
Heywood, Thomas · published 1611 · first performed or written 1610 [1609-1611] (Annals) classical legend or myth · Queen Anne's Men · Red Bull T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.83 · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
He shall spare this sweet babe, I'll ransom thee With my own life, the knife that pierceth thee, Will wound thy mother's side, and I shall feel The least sharp stroke from his offensive steel. The mother Queen's returned. How looks she Nurse? Let her not speak, but yet a little longer My hopes hold in suspense: oh me most wretched, I read my Lords harsh answer in her eye, Her very looks tell me the boy must die. Say, must he? must he? kill me with that word, Which will wound deeper than King Saturn's sword. The boy must die. Oh! Look to the Queen, she faints. Oh let's not lose the mother with her infant, The loss of one's too much. Oh where's my child? I'll hide thee in my bed, my bosom, breast, The murderer shall not find my little son, Thou shalt not die, be not afraid my boy. Go tell the King he's mine as well as his, And I'll not kill my part: one he hath slain, In which I had like interest: this I'll save, And every second son keep from the grave. forbear sir, for this place is privileged, And only for free women. Yet is the Kings command 'bove your decree, And I must play th'intruder 'gainst my will. The King upon your lives hath charged you, To see that infant Lad immediately Receive his death, he stays for his warm blood To offer to the Gods. To think him slain, Sad partner of your sorrows I remain. Madam you hear the king doth threat our lives Let's kill him then. Is he inexorable? Why should not I prove as severe a mother As he a cruel father: since the King Hath doomed him, I the Queen will do't myself, Give me the fatal Engine of his wrath, I'll play the horrid murderess for this once. I'll kiss thee ere I kill thee: for my life, The Lad so smiles, I cannot hold the knife. Then give him me, I am his Grandmother, And I will kill him gently: this sad office Belongs to me, as to the next of kin. For heavens sake when you kill him, hurt him not. Come little knave, prepare your naked throat, I have not heart to give thee many wounds, My kindness is to take thy life at once. (Now.) Alack my pretty Grandchild, smil'st thou still? I have lust to kiss, but have no heart to kill. You may be careless of the king's command, But it concerns me, and I love my life More than I do a suckling's, give him me, I'll make him sure, a sharp weapon lend, I'll quickly bring the youngster to his end. Alack my pretty knave, 'twere more than sin, With a sharp knife to touch thy tender skin. On madam, he's so full of Angel grace I cannot strike, he smiles so in my face.
seed 43: T44 · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
He shall spare this sweet babe, I'le ransome thee With my owne life, the knife that pierceth thee, Will wound thy mothers side, and I shall feele The least sharpe stroke from his offensiue steele. The mother Queen's return'd. How lookes she Nurse? Let her not speake, but yet a little longer My hopes hold in suspence: oh me most wretched, I reade my Lords harsh answere in her eye, Her very lookes tell me the boy must dye. Say, must he? must he? kill me with that word, Which will wound deeper then King Saturnes sword. The boy must dye. Oh! Looke to the Queene, she faints. Oh let's not loose the mother with her infant, The losse of one's too much. Oh wher's my childe? Ile hide thee in my bed, my bosome, brest, The murderer shall not finde my little sonne, Thou shalt not dye, be not afraid my boy. Go tell the King hees mine as well as his, And I'le not kill my part: one he hath slaine, In which I had like interest: this I'le saue, And euery second sonne keepe from the graue. Fobeare sir, for this place is priuiledg'd, And onely for free women. Yet is the Kings command boue your decree, And I must play th'intruder gainst my will. The King vpon your liues hath charged you, To see that infant Lad immediatly Receiue his death, he stayes for his warme bloud To offer to the Gods. To thinke him slaine, Sad partner of your sorrowes I remaine. Madam you heare the king doth threat our liues Let's kill him then. Is he inexorable? Why should not I proue as seuere a mother As he a cruell father: since the King Hath doom'd him, I the Queene will doo't my selfe, Giue me the fatall Engine of his wrath, Il'e play the horrid murdresse for this once. I'le kisse thee ere I kill thee: for my life, The Lad so smiles, I cannot hold the knife. Then giue him me, I am his Grand-mother, And I will kill him gently: this sad office Belongs to me, as to the next of kin. For heauens sake when you kil him, hurt him not. Come little knaue, prepare your naked throat, I haue not heart to giue thee many wounds, My kindnesse is to take thy life at once. (Now.) Alacke my pretty Grand-child, smil'st thou still? I haue lust to kisse, but haue no heart to kill. You may be carelesse of the kings command, But it concernes me, and I loue my life More then I do a sucklings, giue him me, I'le make him sure, a sharpe weapon lend, I'le quickly bring the yongster to his end. Alacke my pretty knaue, t'were more then sin, With a sharpe knife to touch thy tender skin. On Madame, hee's so full of Angell grace I cannot strike, he smiles so in my face.