Hoffman, or A Revenge for a Father · chunk 26 of 39
Chettle, Henry · published 1631 · first performed or written 1602 [Dec 29, payment] (Annals) tragedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
What's that Lorrique? what can fortune do That may divert my strain of policy. You know all Prussia take you for the son Of beauteous Martha, I they suppose me to be Otho her son, And son to that false Duke whom I will kill Or curse my stars His star is sunk already, death and he Have vowed an endless league of amity. Had I Briareus hands, I'd strive with heaven For executing wrath before the hour, But wishes are in vain, he's gone. Our son is somewhat slack as we conceive By this delaying, while our heart is feared, And our eyes dimmed with expectation As are the lights of such as on the beach With many a longing, yet a little proof Stand waiting the return of those they love. His Excellence no doubt hath great affairs But his familiar friend Lorrique is come. kneel not Lorrique, I prithee glad my heart With thy tongues true report of my son Otho Whom since his Princely Father is deceased I am come from oppressed with grief In person to salute him for our Duke. Your mother like affection, and high care, His Highness doth return with duteous thanks Desiring pardon of your excellence, In that he did not first salute your grace: But dismal accidents and bloody deeds, Poysonings treasons, so disturb this state Chiefly this gentle mind since the late death Of your right princely brother Ferdinand That like the careful Captain of a band He is compelled to be the last in field; Yet he protests by me, and I for him: That no soft rest shall enter his grieved eyes Till he behold your presence, more desired Than the large Empire of the wide earth; Only he prays that you would take your rest For in your soft content his heart is blessed. Spread me a Carpet on the humble earth: My hand shall be the pillow to my head. This step my bolster, and this place my bed. Your Highness will take harm. Nay, never fear. A heart with sorrow filled sleeps anywhere, Will our son come tonight? Madam he will. See our train lodged, and then Lorrique attend For captain of the guard; that wait on us, Go all away, nobody stay with me Except our son, come if we chance to call, Trouble us not, god night unto you all. Quo fugiat mortale genm? nil denique tutum est, Crudelis nam morsomnia falce secat? Nil durum, nil non mortis penetrabile telis, Omnia vi demit, mors vio lneta sua. 'tis true, the wise, the fool, the rich, the poor The fair, and the deformed fall; their life turns Air: the King and Captain are in this alike None hath free hold of life, but they are still When death heaven's steward comes, tenants at will. I lay me down, and rest in thee my trust, If I wake never more, till all flesh rise I sleep a happy sleep, sin in me dies.
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)
Whats that Lorrique? what can fortune doe That may diuert my straie of pollicy. You know all Prussia take you for the son Of beautious Martha, I they suppose me to be Otho her son, And son to that false Duke whom I will kill Or curse my stars His star is sunke already, death and he Haue vowed an endlesse league of amity. Had I Briareus hands, i'de strine with heauen For executing wrath before the houre, But wishes are in vaine, hee's gone. Our son is somewhat slacke as wee conceiue By this delaying, while our heart is fear'd, And our eyes dim'd with expectation As are the lights of such as on the beach With many a longing, yet a little proofe Stand wayting the returne of those they loue. His Excellence no doubt hath great affaires But his familiar friend Lorrique is come. kneele not Lorrique, I prethee glad my harte With thy tongues true report of my son Otho Whome since his Princely Father is decea'st I am come from opprest with griefe In person to salute him for our Duke. Your mother like affection, and high care, His Highes doth returne with dutous thankes Defiring pardon of your excellence, In that he did not first salute your grace: But disal accidents and bloody deeds, Poysoning streasons, soe disturbe this state Chiefly this gentle mind since the late death Of your right princely brother Ferdinand That like the carefull Captaine of a band He is compeld to bee the last in field; Yet he protests by me, and I for him: That no soft rest shall enter his grecu'd eyes Till he behold your presence, more desir'd Then the large Empire of the wide earth; Onely he prayes that you would take your rest For in your soft content his heart is blest. Spread me a Carpet on the humble earth: My hand shall be the pillow to my head. This stepmy bolster, and this place my bed. Your Highnes will take harme▪ Nay, neuer feare. A heart with sorrow fild sleepes any where, Will our son come to night? Madam hee will. See our traine lodgd, and then Lorrique attend For captaine of the guard; that wayt on vs, Goe all away, no body stay with mee Except our son, come if we chaunce to call, Trouble vs not, god night vnto you all. Quo fugiat mortale genm? nil denique tutum est, Crudelis nam morsomnia falce secat? Nil durum, nil non mortis penetrabile telis, Omnia vi demit, mors vio nesa sua. Tis true, the wise, the foole, the rich, the poore The fayre, and the deformed fall; their life turnes Ayre: the King and Captaine are in this alike None hath free hold of life, but they are still When death heauens steward comes, tennents at will. I lay me downe, and rest in thee my trust, If I wake neuer more, till all flesh rise I sleepe a happy sleepe, sin in me dyes.