May, Thomas · published 1622 · first performed or written 1620 (Annals) comedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 479 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
My Lord, Count Virro is come to see you. Conduct him in; So, so, it takes already See Roscio see, this is the very man My project aimed at, the rich Count that knows No end of his large wealth, yet gapes for more There was no other loadstone could attract His Iron heart, for could beauty have moved him, Nature has been no niggard to my girl, But I must to my grief, here comes the Count. Is your Lord asleep? No Sir. I think not, my Lord, Count Virro. How do you Sir. I do entreat your Lordship pardon, my grief and some want of sleep have made me at this time unmannerly, not fit to entertain guests of your worth. Alas Sir I know your grief. 'twas that that fetched you hither. You've lost a worthy and a hopeful son, But heaven that always gives, will sometimes take And that the best, there is no balsam left us To cure such wounds as these but patience, There's no disputing with the acts of heaven, But if there were, in what could you accuse Those powers that else have been so liberal to you, And left you yet one comfort in your age: A fair and virtuous daughter. Now it begins. Your blood is not extinct, nor your age childless, from that fair branch that's left may come much fruit to glad posterity, think on that my Lord. Nay heaven forbid I should repine at what the justice of those powers ordain, it has pleased Them to confine my care only to one, and to See her well bestowed is all the comfort I now Must look for, but if it had pleased heaven that My son, ah my Eugenio. Alas good Gentleman. Fore heaven he does it rarely. But Sir, remember yourself, remember your Daughter, let not your grief for the dead make You forget the living, whose hopes, and fortunes Depend upon your safety. Oh my good Lord, you never had a soon. Unless they were bastards, and for them no Doubt but he has done as other Lords do. And therefore cannot tell what 'tis to lose A son, a good son, and an only son. I would, my Lord, I could as well redress As I can take compassion of your grief You should soon find an ease. Pray Pardon me my Lord, if I forget myself toward you at this time, if it please you visit my house ofter you shall be welcome. You would fain sleep my Lord, I'll take my leave Heaven send you comfort, I shall make bold shortly to visit you. You shall be wondrous welcome, Wait on my Lord out there. So now he's gone, how thinkst thou Roscio, Will not this Gudgeon bite? No doubt my Lord, So fair a bait would catch a cunning fish.
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)
My Lord, Count Virro is come to ſee you. Conduct him in; So, ſo, it takes already See Roſcio ſee, this is the very man My proiect aymd at, the rich Count that knowe No end of his large wealth, yet gapes for more There was no other loadſtone could attract His Iron heart, for could beauty haue mou'd him, Nature has beene no niggard to my girle, But I muſt to my griefe, here comes the Count. Is your Lord a ſleepe? No Sir. I thinke not, my Lord, Count Virro. How doe you Sir. I do intreat your Lordſhip pardon, my griefe and ſome want of ſleepe haue made mee at this time vnmannerly, not fit to entertaine gueſts of your worth. Alas Sir I know your griefe. Twas that that fetcht you hither. Y'haue loſt a worthy and a hopefull ſonne, But heauen that alwayes giues, will ſometimes take And that the beſt, there is no balſome left vs To cure ſuch wounds as theſe but patience, There's no diſputing with the acts of heauen, But if there were, in what could you accuſe Thoſe powers that elſe haue beene ſo liberall to you, And left you yet one comfort in your age: A faire and vertuous daughter. Now it beginnes. Your blood is not extinct, nor your age childleſſe, from that fayre branch thats left may come much fruite to glad poſteritie, thinke on that my Lord. Nay heauen forbid I ſhould repine at what the Iuſtice of thoſe powers ordaine, it has pleaſd Them to confine my care onely to one, and to See her well beſtowd is all the comfort I now Muſt looke for, but if it had pleaſd heauen that My ſonne, ah my Eugenio. Alas good Gentleman. Fore heauen he does it rarely. But Sir, remember your ſelfe, remember your Daughter, let not your griefe for the dead make You forget the liuing, whoſe hopes, and fortunes Depend vpon your ſafety. Oh my good Lord, you neuer had a ſoone. Vnleſſe they were baſtards, and for them no Doubt but he has done as other Lords do. And therefore cannot tell what tis to looſe A ſonne, a good ſonne, and an onely ſonne. I would, my Lord, I could as well redreſſe As I can take compaſſion of your griefe You ſhould ſoone finde an eaſe. Pray Pardon me my Lord, if I forget my ſelfe toward you at this time, if it pleaſe you viſite my houſe ofter you ſhall be welcome. You would faine ſleepe my Lord, Ile take my leaue auen ſend you comfort, I ſhall make bold ſhortly to viſite you. You ſhall be wondrous welcome, Wait on my Lord out there. So now he's gone, how thinkſt thou Roſcio, Will not this Gudgeon bite? No doubt my Lord, So faire a bayte would catch a cunning fiſh.