Markham, Gervase / Sampson, William · published 1622 · first performed or written 1622 [c.1619-1622] (Annals) tragedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) · Red Bull unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 468 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
It shall indeed; and be this kiss a seal Of our perpetual love-knot; yet (my Queen) There are new treason's hatching, which (believe't) Will stretch thy patience higher: Ioseph, read That strange and cunning Letter. These are miraculous Treasons. Subtle plots. Strange intertwining mischiefs, Say not so, Give them a gentler title; nothings read That doth accuse my Mother or my Brother. Indeed 'tis but an invitation Of others Love, not their confederacy. Th' Egyptian Queen persuades, but their consent Is not conceived here. Dear wife and Sons, Love hath a blindfold judgement; would their hearts Were harmless as your wishes; but here comes The man will reconcile us: Captain, speak, Where's Alexandra? Where's Aristobulus? Sir, they are fled. Fled! do not speak it; better thou hadst sunk To hell, then bring that mischief. O the Devil! This was your hackney pace By all that's true, I have not slacked a minute; they were gone Ere I had my commission, and so fast, My speed could not outstrip them; yet I took This luggage and their Servants, whence (no doubt) Your Majesty may gather new instructions. Whence I may gather my despair and grief; Villain, thou hast betrayed me; in their loss, I'm lost to fate an danger: Silly Snail; Could Sloth have crept so slowly? Why, thy way Was smooth as glass, and thou mightst have surprised Them easier then to speak it. O you Gods, What plummets hang at Vassals heels; and how Doth sleep and dulness cease them! But I vow, Thy life shall pay thy forfeit. Gracious Sir: Talk'st thou of grace; and in this act hast lost, All things that's like, or near it? Did not scorn Hold me, my hand should kill thee. Good Sir, think— That you're too rude to offer thus to thrust 'Twixt me and my resolution. Not a word; 'Tis death t'outface this lightning. Lost, and fled, and gone, and all my hope Turned topsy-turvy downward? Ioseph, hark. Blessed be the God of Iuda, which hath brought My royal Mother, and my Brother safe, Out of the hands of sad Captivity. O, I will offer Sacrifice each day, And make that hour a Sabbath, which doth bring Them safe from threatning danger. Madam, Amen; With that prayer I'll join ever, and invoke Prosperity to guard them;— but (in heart) Wish that damnation, like a Thunderbolt, Would beat them into cinders. 'Tis resolved, Force shall compel what virtuously I would Have sought from mild entreaty; for those Trunks, Go throw them into Silo, let that Lake Devour them and their treasures. Not so good, You may, by that means, blindfold cast away What you would after purchase with your blood; But cannot then recall it: Sir, conceive; There may be Complots, Letters, Stratagems, And things we cannot dream of.
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)
It shall indeed; and be this kisse a seale Of our perpetuall loue-knot; yet (my Queene) There are new Treasons hatching, which (beleeu't) Wil stretch thy patience higher: Ioseph, reade That strange and cunning Letter. These are miraculous Treasons. Subtile plots. Strange interwinding mischiefes, Say not so, Giue them a gentler title; nothings read That doth accuse my Mother or my Brother. Indeed 'tis but an inuitation Of others Loue, not their confederacy. Th' Aegyptian Queen perswades, but their consent Is not conceiued heere. Deere wife and Sonnes, Loue hath a blindfold iudgement; would their hearts Were harmelesse as your wishes; but heere comes The man will reconcile vs: Captaine, speake, Where's Alexandra? Where's Aristobulus? Sir, they are fled. Fled! do not speake it; better thou hadst sunke To hell, then bring that mischiefe. O the Diuell! This was your hackney pace By all that's true, I haue not slackt a minute; they were gone Ere I had my commission, and so fast, My speed could not outstrip them; yet I tooke This luggage and their Seruants, whence (no doubt) Your Maiesty may gather new instructions. Whence I may gather my despaire and griefe; Villaine, thou hast betray'd me; in their losse, I'm lost to fate an danger: Silly Snaile; Could Sloth haue crept so slowly? Why, thy way Was smooth as glasse, and thou mightst haue surpriz'd Them easier then to speake it. O you Gods, What plummets hang at Vassals heeles; and how Doth sleepe and dulnesse ceaze them! But I vow, Thy life shall pay thy forfait. Gracious Sir: Talk'st thou of grace; and in this act hast lost, All things that's like, or neare it? Did not scorne Hold me, my hand should kill thee. Good Sir, thinke— That y'are too rude to offer thus to thrust 'Twixt me and my resolution. Not a word; 'Tis death t'outface this lightening. Lost, and fled, and gone, and all my hope Turn'd topsie turuie downward? Ioseph, harke. Blest be the God of Iuda, which hath brought My royall Mother, and my Brother safe, Out of the hands of sad Captiuity. O, I will offer Sacrifice each day, And make that houre a Sabbath, which doth bring Them safe from threatning danger. Madam, Amen; With that prayer Ile ioyne euer, and inuoke Prosperity to guard them;—but (in heart) Wish that damnation, like a Thunder-bolt, Would beat them into cynders. 'Tis resolu'd, Force shall compell what vertuously I would Haue sought from milde intreaty; for those Trunks, Goe throw them into Silo, let that Lake Deuoure them and their treasures. Not so good, You may, by that meanes, blind-fold cast away What you would after purchase with your blood; But cannot then recall it: Sir, conceiue; There may be Complots, Letters, Stratagems, And things we cannot dreame of.