Anonymous / Fletcher, John / Massinger, Philip · published 1621 · first performed or written 1617 [1613-1621] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 476 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Go carry her without wink of sleep, or quiet, Where her strong knave Protaldye's broke oath wheel, And let his cries and roars be music to her, I mean to waken her. Do her no wrong. Nor right as you love justice. I will think, And if there be new curses in old nature, I have a soul dare send 'em. Keep her waking. What's that appears so sweetly? there's that face. Be moderate Lady. That angel's face. Go nearer. Martell, I cannot last long, see the soul, I see it perfectly of my Ordella, The heavenly figure of her sweetness there, Forgive me gods, it comes, divinest substance, Kneel, kneel, kneel every one, Saint of thy sex, If it be for my cruelty thou comest, Do ye see her hoe? Yes sir, and you shall know her. Down, down again, to be revenged for blood, Sweet spirit I am ready, she smiles on me, O blessed sign of peace. Go nearer Lady. I come to make you happy. Hear you that sirs? She comes to crown my soul: away, get sacrifice Whilst I with holy honours. She's alive Sir. In everlasting life I know it, friend, O happy, happy soul. Alas I live Sir A mortal woman still. Can spirits weep too? She is no spirit Sir, pray kiss her; Lady; Be very gentle to him. Stay, she is warm. Are you the same Ordella still? The same Sir, Whom heavens and my good angel stayed from ruin. Kiss me again, The same still, still your servant. 'Tis she, I know her now Martell; sit down sweet, O blessed and happiest woman, a dead slumber Begins to creep upon me, o my jewel! O sleep my Lord. My joys are too much for me. Brunhalt impatient of her constraint to see Protaldie tortured, has choked herself. No more, her sins go with her. Love I must die, I faint, close up my glasses. The Queen faints too, and deadly. One dying kiss. My last Sir, and my dearest, and now Close my eyes too. Thou perfect woman, Martell, the kingdom's yours, take Memberge to you, And keep my life alive; nay weep not Lady, Take me, I go. Take me too, farewell honour. dies both. They are gone for ever. The peace of happy souls go after 'em, Bear 'em unto their last beds, whilst I study A tomb to speak their loves; whilst old Time lasteth, I am your King in sorrows. We your subjects. Devitry, for your service he near us, Whip out these instruments of this mad mother From Court, and all good people; and because She was borne noble, let that title find her A private grave, but neither tongue, nor honour: And now lead on, they that shall read this story, Shall find that virtue lives in good, not glory.
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)
Go carry her without winke of sleepe, or quiet, Where her strong knaue Protaldye's broke oth wheele, And let his cries and rores be musicke to her, I meane to waken her. Do her no wrong. Nor right as you loue iustice. I will thinke, And if there be new curses in old nature, I haue a soule dare send vm. Keepe her waking. What's that appeares so sweetely? there's that face. Be moderate Lady. That angells face. Go nearer. Martell, I cannot last long, see the soule, I see it perfectly of my Ordella, The heauenly figure of her sweetenes there, Forgiue me gods, it comes, diuinest substance, Kneele, kneele, kneele euery one, Saint of thy sexe, If it be for my cruelty thou comest, Do ye see her hoe? Yes sir, and you shall know her. Downe, downe againe, to be reueng'd for blood, Sweete spirit I am ready, she smiles on me, O blessed signe of peace. Go neerer Lady. I come to make you happy. Heare you that sirs? She comes to crowne my soule: away, get sacrifice Whilst I with holy honors. She's aliue Sir. In euerlasting life I know it, friend, O happy, happy soule. Alas I liue Sir A mortall woman still. Can spirits weepe too? She is no spirit Sir, pray kisse her; Lady; Be very gentle to him. Stay, she is warme. Are you the same Ordella still? The same Sir, Whom heauens and my good angell staid from ruine. Kisse me agen, The same still, still your seruant. 'Tis she, I know her now Martell; sit downe sweete, O blest and happiest woman, a dead slumber Begins to creepe vpon me, o my iewell! O sleepe my Lord. My ioyes are too much for me. Brunhalt impatient of her constraint to see Protaldie tortur'd, has chokt her selfe. No more, her sinnes go with her. Loue I must die, I faint, close vp my glasses. The Queene faints too, and deadly. One dying kisse. My last Sir, and my dearest, and now Close my eyes too. Thou perfect woman, Martell, the kingdome's yours, take Memberge to you, And keepe my liue aliue; nay weepe not Lady, Take me, I go. Take me too, farwell honor. dies both. They are gone for euer. The peace of happy soules go after vm, Beare vm vnto their last beds, whilst I study A tombe to speake their loues; whilst old Time lasteth, I am your King in sorrowes. We your subiects. Deuitry, for your seruice he neere vs, Whip out these instruments of this mad mother From Court, and all good people; and because She was borne noble, let that title find her A priuate graue, but neither tonge, nor honor: And now leade on, they that shall read this story, Shall find that vertue liues in good, not glory.