Shakespeare, William / Fletcher, John · published 1623 · first performed or written 1613 [Jun] (Annals) history · King's Men unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
Deliver this with modesty to th' Queen. The most convenient place, that I can think of For such receipt of Learning, is Blackfriars: There ye shall meet about this weighty business. My Wolsey, see it furnished, O my Lord, Would it not grieve an able man to leave So sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience; O 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches. His Highness, having lived so long with her, and she So good a Lady, that no Tongue could ever Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life, She never knew harme-doing: Oh, now after So many courses of the Sun enthroaned, Still growing in a Majesty and pomp, the which To leave, a thousand fold more bitter, then 'Tis sweet at first t' acquire. After this Process. To give her the avaunt, it is a pity Would move a Monster. Hearts of most hard temper Melt and lament for her. Oh Gods will, much better She ne'er had known pomp; though't be temporal, Yet if that quarrel. Fortune, do divorce It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging As soul and bodies severing. Alas poor Lady, she's a stranger now again. So much the more Must pity drop upon her; verily I swear, 'tis better to be lowly borne, And range with humble livers in Content, Then to be perked up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow. Our content Is our best having. By my troth, and Maidenhead, I would not be a Queen. Beshrew me, I would, And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you For all this spice of your Hypocrisy: You that have so fair parts of Woman on you, Have (too) a Woman's heart, which ever yet Affected Eminence, Wealth, Sovereignty; Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which gifts (Saving your mincing) the capacity Of your soft Chiverell Conscience, would receive, If you might please to stretch it. Nay, good troth. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen? No, not for all the riches under Heaven. 'tis strange; a three pence bowed would hire me Old as I am, to Queen it: but I pray you, What think you of a Duchess? Have you limbs To bear that load of Title? No in truth. Then you are weakly made; pluck off a little, I would not be a young Count in your way, For more than blushing comes to: If your back Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak Ever to get a Boy. How you do talk; I swear again, I would not be a Queen, For all the world: In faith, for little England You'd venture an emballing: I myself Would for Carnaruanshire, although there longed No more to th' Crown but that: Lo, who comes here? Good morrow Ladies; what were't worth to know The secret of your conference?
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)
Deliuer this with modeſty to th' Queene. The moſt conuenient place, that I can thinke of For ſuch receipt of Learning, is Black-Fryers: There ye ſhall meete about this waighty buſines. My Wolſey, ſee it furniſh'd, O my Lord, Would it not grieue an able man to leaue So ſweet a Bedfellow? But Conſcience, Conſcience; O 'tis a tender place, and I muſt leaue her. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches. His Highneſſe, hauing liu'd ſo long with her, and ſhe So good a Lady, that no Tongue could euer Pronounce diſhonour of her; by my life, She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now after So many courſes of the Sun enthroaned, Still growing in a Maieſty and pompe, the which To leaue, a thouſand fold more bitter, then 'Tis ſweet at firſt t' acquire. After this Proceſſe. To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty Would moue a Monſter. Hearts of moſt hard temper Melt and lament for her. Oh Gods will, much better She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall, Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce It from the bearer, 'tis a ſufferance, panging As ſoule and bodies ſeuering. Alas poore Lady, Shee's a ſtranger now againe. So much the more Muſt pitty drop vpon her; verily I ſweare, tis better to be lowly borne, And range with humble liuers in Content, Then to be perk'd vp in a gliſtring griefe, And weare a golden ſorrow. Our content Is our beſt hauing. By my troth, and Maidenhead, I would not be a Queene. Beſhrew me, I would, And venture Maidenhead for't, and ſo would you For all this ſpice of your Hipocriſie: You that haue ſo faire parts of Woman on you, Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty; Which, to ſay ſooth, are Bleſſings; and which guifts (Sauing your mincing) the capacity Of your ſoft Chiuerell Conſcience, would receiue, If you might pleaſe to ſtretch it. Nay, good troth. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen? No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen. Tis ſtrange; a three pence bow'd would hire me Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you, What thinke you of a Dutcheſſe? Haue you limbs To beare that load of Title? No in truth. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little, I would not be a young Count in your way, For more then bluſhing comes to: If your backe Cannot vouchſafe this burthen, tis too weake Euer to get a Boy. How you doe talke; I ſweare againe, I would not be a Queene, For all the world: In faith, for little England You'ld venture an emballing: I my ſelfe Would for Carnaruanſhire, although there long'd No more to th' Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here? Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to know The ſecret of your conference?