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 0.81 · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
May I trust thee? Else employ me not. Didst ever kill a Scorpion? Never, I ha' been stung by one. Didst never bait a wild Bull? That's the pastime I most love and follow. A strange disease Hangs on me, and our Doctors say the blood Only of these two beasts must do me good, Dar'st thou attempt to kill them? Were they Devils With heads of Iron, and Claws jointed with brass, Encounter them I shall, in what Park run they? The Queen that Scorpion is, Tormiella's husband The mad Ox broken loose; in a small volume What mischief may be writ, in a maze! No, in a muse, I'm plotting how to do't, and to come off. This does it, by this key burst up all doors That can betray thee, done be sure to rise, Let a king's royal breath, send the hence flying. As Powder does the Bullet. Heaped up honours Are schedules to thine enterprise annexed, Do it and mount— To th'gallows. thyself goes next. I scorn to be thy blood hound Why should I vex a Soul did never grieve me? The Queen an honest Lady: should I kill her, It were as if I pulled a Temple down, And from the ruins of that built up a stews, She lives, but Butcher like the Ox I'll use. Oh royal Sir, my Daughter Tormiella Has lost her use of reason and run mad. When! Not half an hour since. Mad now! now frantic! When all my hopes are at their highest pitch T'enjoy her beauties! talk no more: thou liest. May it please your Majesty- Curses consume thee— on— It is dispatched, the Queen is lost, never to be found. Wave upon Wave, Hard hearted Furies, when will you dig my Grave: You do not hear him, thunder shakes Heaven first Before dull Earth can feel it: My dear, dearest Queen is dead. Ha! The Queen dead! What said she last! Commend me to the King And tell him this, mine honour is not wracked, Though his Love be. And so her heartstrings cracked! Some trick upon my life, State-conjuring To raise up Devils in Prisons, and i'th' dark: If she be dead, I'll see her. Villainous man, Thou see what we have enjoyed, thou impudent fool Away, Iago give this tumbling Whale Empty barrels to play with, till this troublous Seas (Which he more raging makes) good Heaven appease. Well, I say nothing, Birds in Cages mourn At first, but at last sing; I will take my turn. My Queen dead, I shall now have rhyming slaves Libel upon us, giving her innocent wings But say we murdered her, scandal dare strike Kings: Then here's another Moon of Spain Eclipsed, One whom our best loved Queen put in her bosom, For sweetness of pure life, integrity, And (in Court beauties wondrous) honesty, she's mad too, Lupo, Tormiella's mad! Mad! As a March whore. Mad, shall I work upon her?
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)
May I trust thee? Else imploy me not. Didst euer kill a Scorpion? Neuer, I ha beene stung by one. Didst neuer bait a wild Bull? That's the pastime I most loue and follow. A strange disease Hangs on me, and our Doctors say the bloud Onely of these two beasts must doe me good, Dar'st thou attempt to kill them? Were they Diuels With heads of Iron, and Clawes ioynted with brasse, Encounter them I shall, in what Parke run they? The Queene that Scorpion is, Tormiellas husband The mad Oxe broken loose; in a small volume What mischiefe may be writ, in a maze! No, in a muse, I'me plotting how to doe't, and to come off. This does it, by this key burst vp all doores That can betray thee, done be sure to rise, Let a Kings royall breath, send the hence flying. As Powder does the Bullet. Heap'd vp honours Are scedules to thine enterprise annext, Doe it and mount— To th'Gallowes. Thy selfe goes next. I scorne to be thy bloud hound Why should I vexe a Soule did neuer greeue me? The Queene an honest Lady: should I kill her, It were as if I pull'd a Temple downe, And from the ruines of that built vp a stewes, She liues, but Butcher like the Oxe Ile vse. Oh royall Sir, my Daughter Tormiella Has lost her vse of reason and runne mad. When! Not halfe an houre since. Mad now! now frantique! When all my hopes are at their highest pitch T'inioy her beauties! talke no more: thou ly'st. May it please your Maiestie- Curses consume thee—on— It is dispatch'd, the Queene is lost, neuer to be found. Waue vpon Waue, Hard hearted Furies, when will you dig my Graue: You doe not heare him, thunder shakes Heauen first Before dull Earth can feele it: My deere, dearest Queene is dead. Ha! The Queene dead! What said she last! Commend me to the King And tell him this, mine honour is not wrack'd, Though his Loue bee. And so her heart-strings crackt! Some tricke vpon my life, State-coniuring To raise vp Diuels in Prisons, and i'th darke: If she be dead, Ile see her. Villanous man, Thou see what we haue inioy'd, thou impudent foole Away, Iago giue this tumbling Whale Empty barrels to play with, till this troublous Seas (Which he more raging makes) good Heauen appease. Well, I say nothing, Birds in Cages mourne At first, but at last sing; I will take my turne. My Queene dead, I shall now haue riming slaues Libell vpon vs, giuing her innocent wings But say we murdered her, scandall dare strike Kings: Then here's another Moone of Spaine Eclips'd, One whom ourbest lou'd Queene put in her bosome, For sweetnesse of pure life, integritie, And (in Court beauties wondrous) honesty, Shee's mad too, Lupo, Tormiella's mad! Mad! As a March whore. Mad, shall I worke vpon her?