Dekker, Thomas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1611 [c.1611-c.1613; re-licensed for stage, Aug 21, 1623] (Annals) tragicomedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) · Red Bull T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.85 · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
A citizen's wife; 'Twas when you swore to pay him soundly. See. see! The people's hearts were full. Pox, a'my heart then. Or was't not when you threatened to take all, Into your own hands: There's my glove, thou liest. Good stuff, I shall find traitors of you both, If you are, be so; with my finger, thus I fan away the dust flying in mine eyes Raised by a little wind; I laugh at these now, 'Tis smoke, and yet because you shall not think We'll dance in Earth quakes, or throw squibs at Thunder, I charge both keep your Chambers for a day Or so.— Your will. Chambers! We bid it. You may. The Queen. I thank your highness for the bird you gave me, What bird? Your Tassel gentle, she's lured off and gone. How gone! what's gone! Your woman's fled, Whom you preferred to me, she's stolen from Court. You jest. be it so.— I have hotter news for you, Your Father's head lies here, art thou still shooting. Thy stings into my sides! Now do you look I should turn wild, and send through all the winds Horsemen in quest of her, because you wear A kind of yellow stocking; let her fly If Ioue for sooth would fix a star in Heaven, Iuno runs mad, thou better mightst have spurned The gates of hell ope; then to look into Our bosom. Where your Trull lies. Y'are a Toad. Woman's revenge awake thee, thou hast stirred A blood as hot and high as is thine own Raise no more storms; your treasure is not gone, I feared the Sea was dangerous, and did sound it Mischief but half up, is with ease confounded. In thine own ruin, me canst thou hit But with one finger which can do no harm But when a King strikes, 'tis with his whole arm. Make fast the Closet— so— give me the key I mean to kill thee. Kill me, for what cause? Guess. I know none, unless the Lamb should ask The Butcher why he comes to cut his throat. I could through loop holes hit thee, or hire slaves And send death to thee, twenty secret ways. Why would you do all this? Or (as the Heart Draws Serpents from their Den) with subtle breath I could allure thee to sit down, and banquet With me as with the King thou hast. Oh never— Yet poison you most sweetly. Now you do it. And I could make thee a queen's bedfellow As thou hast been a king's. Never by— Swear, Yet stifle you in a pillow, but I scorn To strike thee blindfold, only thou shalt know An eagle's nest, disdains to hatch a Crow: Why are all mouths in Spain filled to the brim, Flowing o'er with Court news, only of you and him The King I mean, where lies the Court?
seed 43: T44 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
A Citizens wife; 'Twas when you swore to pay him soundly. See. see! The peoples hearts were full. Poxe, a'my heart then. Or was't not when you threaten'd to take all, Into your owne hands: There's my gloue, thou lyest. Good stuffe, I shall find traitors of you both, If you are, be so; with my finger, thus I fanne away the dust flying in mine eyes Rais'd by a little wind; I laugh at these now, 'Tis smoake, and yet because you shall not thinke We'll dance in Earth quakes, or throw squibs at Thunder, I charge both keepe your Chambers for a day Or so.— Your will. Chambers! We bid it. You may. The Queene. I thanke your highnesse for the bird you gaue me, What bird? Your Tassell gentle, shee's lur'd off and gone. How gon! what's gone! Your woman's fled, Whom you prefer'd to me, she's stolne from Court. You iest. bee it so.— I haue hotter newes for you, Your Fathers head lies here, art thou still shooting. Thy stings into my sides! Now doe you looke I should turne wild, and send through all the winds Horsemen in quest of her, because you weare A kind of yellow stocking; let her flie If Ioue for sooth would fixe a starre in Heauen, Iuno runnes mad, thou better mightst haue spurn'd The gates of hell ope; then to looke into Our bosome. Where your Trull lyes. Y'are a Toad. Womans reuenge awake thee, thou hast stirr'd A blood as hot and high as is thine owne Raise no more stormes; your treasure is not gon, I fear'd the Sea was dangerous, and did sound it Mischiefe but halfe vp, is with ease confounded. In thine owne ruine, me canst thou hit But with one finger which can doe no harme But when a King strikes, 'tis with his whole arme. Make fast the Closet—so—giue me the key I meane to kill thee. Kill me, for what cause? Guesse. I know none, vnlesse the Lambe should aske The Butcher why he comes to cut his throat. I could through loope holes hit thee, or hire slaues And send death to thee, twenty secret wayes. Why would you doe all this? Or (as the Hart Drawes Serpents from their Den) with subtill breath I could allure thee to sit downe, and banquet With me as with the King thou hast. Oh neuer— Yet poyson you most sweetly. Now you doe it. And I could make thee a Queenes bedfellow As thou hast beene a Kings. Neuer by— Sweare, Yet stifle you in a pillow, but I scorne To strike thee blindfold, onely thou shalt know An Eagles nest, disdaines to hatch a Crow: Why are all mouthes in Spaine fill'd to the brim, Flowing o're with Court newes, onely of you and him The King I meane, where lies the Court?