Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1619 · first performed or written 1611 (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
As low as this I bow to you, and would As low as to my grave, to show a mind Thankful for all your mercies. O stand up, And let me kneel, the light will be ashamed To see observance done to me by you. You are my King. You are my Mother rise; As far be all your faults from your own soul, As from my memory; than you shall be As white as innocence herself. I came Only to show my duty, and acknowledge My sorrow for my sins; longer to stay we'll but to draw eyes more attentively upon my shame: That power that kept you safe From me preserve you still. Your own desires shall be your guard. Now let me die, Since I have seen my Lord the King return In safety, I have seen all good that life Can show me; I have near another wish For Heaven to grant, nor were it fit I should: For I am bound to spend my age to come In giving thanks that this was granted me. why does not your Majesty speak? To whom? To the Princess. Alas Sir, I am fearful, you do look On me, as if I were some loathed thing That you were finding out a way to shun. Sir, you should speak to her. Ha? I know I am unworthy, yet not ill, Armed, with which innocence here I will kneel, Till I am one with earth: but I will gain Some words, and kindness from you. will you, speak Sir? Speak, am I what I was? what art thou that dost creep into my breast, And darest not see my face show forth thyself: I feel a pair of fiery wings displayed Hither, from thence; you shall not tarry there, up, and be gone, if thou be'st love, be gone, Or I will tear thee from my wounded flesh, Pull thy loved down away, and with a quill By this right arm drawn from thy wanton wing, write to thy laughing Mother in thy blood, That you are Powers belied, and all your darts Are to be blown away by men resolved Like dust; I know thou fear'st my words, away. O misery, why should he be so slow, There can no falsehood come of loving her, Though I have given my faith; she is a thing Both to be loved and served beyond my faith: I would he would present me to her quickly. will you not speak at all, are you so far From kind words? yet to save my modesty That must talk till you answer: do not stand As you were dumb, say something, though it be Poisoned with anger that may strike me dead: Have you no life at all? for manhood's sake Let her not kneel, and talk neglected thus; A tree would find a tongue to answer her, Did she but give it such a loved respect.
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)
As low as this I bow to you, and would As low as to my graue, to ſhew a mind Thankefull for all your mercies. O ſtand vp, And let me kneele, the light will be aſham'd To ſee obſeruance done to me by you. You are my King. You are my Mother riſe; As farre be all your faults from your owne ſoule, As from my memory; then you ſhall be As white as innocence her ſelfe. I came Onely to ſew my dutie, and acknowledge My ſorrow for my ſinnes; longer to ſtay Wee but to draw eyes more attentiuely vpon my ſhame: That power that kept you ſafe From me preſerue you ſtill. Your owne deſires ſhall be your guard. Now let me die, Since I haue ſeene my Lord the King returne In ſafety, I haue ſeene all good that life▪ Can ſhew me; I haue nere another wiſh▪ For Heauen to grant, nor were it fit I ſhould: For I am bound to ſpend my age to come In giuig than kes that this was granted me. vvhy does not your Maieſtie ſpeake? To whom? To the Princeſſe. Alas Sir, I am fearefull, you doe looke On me, as if I were ſome loathed thing That you were finding out a way to ſhunne. Sir, you ſhould ſpeake to her. Ha? I know I am vnworthy, yet not ill, Arm'd▪ with which innocence here I will kneele, Till I am one with earth: but I will gaine Some words, and kindneſſe from you. vvill you, ſpeake Sir? Speake, am I what I was? vvhat art thou that doſt creepe into my breaſt, And darſt not ſee my face ſhew forth thy ſelfe▪ I feele a paire of fierie wings diſplaide Hither, from thence; you ſhall not tarrie there, vp, and be gone, if thou beeſt loue, be gone, Or I will teare thee from my wounded fleſh, Pull thy lou'd downe away, and with a quill By this right arme drawne from thy wanton wing, vvrite to thy laughing Mother in thy bloud, That you are Powers belied, and all your darts Are to be blowne away by men reſolu'd Like duſt; I know thou fear'ſt my words, away. O miſerie, why ſhould he be ſo ſlow▪ There can no falſhood come of louing her, Though I haue giuen my faith; ſhee is a thing Both to be lou'd and ſeru'd beyond my faith: I would he would preſent me to her quicklie. vvill you not ſpeake at all, are you ſo farre From kind words? yet to ſaue my modeſty That muſt talke till you anſwer: doe not ſtand As you were dumbe, ſay ſomething, though it be Poyſon'd with anger that may ſtrike me dead: Haue you no life at all? for manhood ſake Let her not kneele, and talke neglected thus; A tree would find a tongue to anſwer her, Did ſhee but giue it ſuch a lou'd reſpect.