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 · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
'tis, my Lord, My part to couch like Mischief, close, but sure; When I break out I'm fatal. Thou speakst truth; Would this day did not need thee: 'tis a world To think how strong our cares are; and how weak All things which do but look like comfort: there's Not left in me a shadow; not a breath Of any hope hereafter; this Bastard's faith, On which so much I doted, to be lost Thus against kind and nature; 'tis a sin, That tears my heart in pieces. Say not so; 'tis rather comfort well discovered: But peace; see theyare approaching. Give way, stand back; room for the King of Iuda. No, let them throng about me; and behold Their glory, and Redeemer, Ha; what's this? a Vision? a mortal Prodigy: the King is living: O, I'm lost Past hope, and past imagination; by his side The Emperor Augustus: than I see, There is no way, but to destruction. Yes, to deserve destruction: wretched thing; Thou scorn of all are scorned; see, I live Only to sound thy judgement: thou, that thought'st To build thy Throne upon my Sepulchre; See how thouart dashed in pieces. Gracious Sir. Labour not for excuses; you have run A strange Career in Villainy; and thrust All goodness from you with such violence, That Mercy dares not help you. Yet, my Lord, Hear mine unfeigned Answer. In thy breast Was never thing looked like Simplicity; Thou hast made Goodness wretched, and defamed All virtuous things that graced Nobility; thoust eat my blood up; made my loathed life Only a Scale to reach Confusion; Of these things I accuse thee; this I prove Both by my Life, my Death, and Infamy; And for this thou must perish: One, call forth The Minister of death; and in my view, Some minutes ere my dying; let me see His head ta'en from his body. Sir, O Sir; Think that you are a Father. No, a King, And thence ordained for justice; to put back Ought of that heavenly Office, were to throw Mountains i'th' face of Iupiter; know you're lost, Lost to all Mankind and Mortality: Therefore to make your last hour better seem, Than all that went before it; what you know Of Treasons unrevealed; lay them forth: The work will well become you. Is there no mercy? Not upon earth; nor for Antipater. Then farewell Hope for ever; welcome Death; ay, that have made thee as mine Instrument, Will make thee my Companion; and, I thus Ascend and come to meet thee: Here I am A Monarch over all that look on me, And do despise what all you tremble at: Sir, it is true, I meant your Tragedy; Did quite root out your Issue; and if life Had held, would have wiped out your Memory: This I confess; and to this had no help; But mine ill thoughts and wicked Salumiths.
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)
Tis, my Lord, My part to couch like Mischiefe, close, but sure; When I breake out I'm fatall. Thou speakst truth; Would this day did not need thee: tis a world To thinke how strong our cares are; and how weake All things which doe but looke like comfort: there's Not left in me a shadow; not a breath Of any hope hereafter; this Bastards faith, On which so much I doted, to be lost Thus against kinde and nature; tis a sinne, That teares my heart in pieces. Say not so; Tis rather comfort well discouered: But peace; see th'are approaching. Giue way, stand backe; roome for the King of Iuda. No, let them throng about me; and behold Their glory, and Redeemer, Ha; what's this? a Vision? tall Prodigie: the King is liuing: O, I'm lost Past hope, and past imagination; by his side The Emperour Augustus: then I see, There is no way, but to destruction. Yes, to deserue destruction: wretched thing; Thou scorne of all are scorned; see, I liue Only to sound thy Iudgement: thou, that thought'st To build thy Throane vpon my Sepulchre; See how th'art dasht in pieces. Gracious Sir. Labour not for excuses; you haue runne A strange Cariere in Villany; and thrust All goodnesse from you with such violence, That Mercy dares not helpe you. Yet, my Lord, Heare mine vnfaigned Answere. In thy brest Was neuer thing lookt like Simplicity; Thou hast made Goodnesse wretched, and defam'd All vertuous things that grac'd Nobility; Th'ast eate my blood vp; made my loathed life Onely a Scale to reach Confusion; Of these things I accuse thee; this I proue Both by my Life, my Death, and Infamie; And for this thou must perish: One, call forth The Minister of death; and in my view, Some minutes ere my dying; let me see His head tane from his body. Sir, O Sir; Thinke that you are a Father. No, a King, And thence ordain'd for Iustice; to put backe Ought of that heauenly Office, were to throw Mountaines ith face of Iupiter; know y'are lost, Lost to all Mankinde and Mortality: Therefore to make your last houre better seeme, Then all that went before it; what you know Of Treasons vnreuealed; lay them forth: The worke will well become you. Is there no mercy? Not vpon earth; nor for Antipater. Then farewell Hope for euer; welcome Death; I, that haue made thee as mine Instrument, Will make thee my Companion; and, I thus Ascend and come to meete thee: Here I am A Monarch ouer all that looke on mee, And doe despise what all you tremble at: Sir, it is true, I meant your Tragedy; Did quite roote out you Issue; and if life Had held, would haue wipte out your Memory: This I confesse; and to this had no helpe; But mine ill thoughts and wicked Salumiths.