Preston, Thomas · published 1570 · first performed or written 1561 [c.1558-1569] (Annals) tragedy T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.87 · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Farewell you Ladies of the Court, with all your masking hue: I do forsake these broidered guards, and all the fashions new. The Court and all the courtly train, wherein I had delight: I banished am from happy sport and all by spiteful spite. Yet with a joyful heart to God a Psalm I mean to sing: Forgiving all & the king, of each kind of thing. A, A, A. A, I cannot choose but weep for the Queen: Nothing but mourning now at the Court there is seen. O, o, my heart, my heart, O my bum will break: Very grief so torments me that scarce I can speak. Who could but weep for the loss of such a Lady? That can not I do, I swear by mine honesty. But Lord so the Ladies mourn crying a lack: Nothing is worn now but only black. I believe all cloth in walling street, to make gowns would not serve If I make a lie, the Devil let ye starve. All Ladies mourn both young and old: There is not one that weareth a points worth of Gold There is a sort for fear, for the King do pray: That would have him dead, by the mass I dare say. What a King was he that hath used such tyranny? He was a kin to Bishop Bonner, I think verily, For both their delights was to shed blood: But never intended to do any good. Cambyses put a judge to death, that was a good deed: But to kill the young Child was worse to proceed. To murder his Brother, and then his own wife: So help me God and holidom, it is pity of his life Hear ye? I will lay twenty thousand pound: That the king himself doth die by some wound. He hath shed so much blood that his will be shed: If it come so to pass infaith then he is sped. Out alas what shall I do? my life is finished. Wounded I am by sudden chance, my blood is m●nished. Gog's heart what means might I make, my life to preserve? Is there naught to be my help: nor is their naught to serve? Out upon the Court, and Lords that there remain: To help my grief in this my case, will none of them take pain? Who but I in such a wise his death's wound could have got: As I on horse back up did leap, my sword from scabbard shot. And ran me thus into the side, as you right well may see: A marvels chance unfortunate, that in this wise should be. I feel myself a dying now, of life bereft am I: And death hath caught me with his dart, for want of blood I spy. Thus gasping here on ground I lie, for nothing I do care: A just rewad for my misdeeds, my death doth plain declare.
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)
Farwel you Ladyes of the Court, with all your maſking hew: I doo forſake theſe brodered gardes, and all the facions new. The Court and all the courtly train, wherin I had delight: I baniſhed am from happy ſporte and all by ſpightful ſpight. Yet with a ioyful hart to God a Pſalme I meane to ſing: Forgiuing all & the king, of eche kinde of thing. A, A, A. A, I cannot chuſe but wéep for the Quéene: Nothing but mourning now at the Court there is ſéen. Oh, oh, my hart, my hart, Oh my bum wil break: Very gréef ſo torments me that ſcarce I can ſpeake. Who could but wéep for the loſſe of ſuch a Lady? That can not I doo, I ſweare by mine honeſty. But Lord ſo the Ladyes mourn crying a lack: Nothing is worne now but onely black. I beleeue all cloth in walling ſtreet, to make gownes would not ſerue If I make a lye, the Deuil let ye ſterue. All Ladyes mourne bothe yung and olde: There is not one that weareth a points worth of Gold There is a ſorte for feare, for the King doo pray: That would haue him dead, by the maſſe I dare ſay. What a King was he that hath vſed ſuch tiranny? He was a kin to Biſhop Bonner, I think verely, For bothe their delights was to ſhed blood: But neuer intended to doo any good. Cambiſes put a Iudge to death, that was a good deed: But to kil the yung Childe was worſe to procéed. To murder his Brother, and then his owne wife: So help me God and holidom, it is pitie of his life Heare ye? I wil lay twentie thouſand pound: That the king him ſelf dooth dye by ſome wound. He hath ſhed ſo much blood that his wil be ſhed: If it come ſo to paſſe infaith then he is ſped. Out alas what ſhall I doo? my life is finiſhed. Wounded I am by ſudain chaunce, my blood is mniſhed. Gogs hart what meanes might I make, my life to preſerue? Is there nought to be my help: nor is their nought to ſerue? Out vpon the Court, and Lords that there remain: To help my gréef in this my caſe, wil none of them take pain? Who but I in ſuch a wiſe his deaths wound could haue got: As I on horſe back vp did leape, my ſwoord from ſcabard ſhot. And ran me thus into the ſide, as you right wel may ſee: A meruels chaunce vnfortunate, that in this wiſe ſhould bée. I feele my ſelf a dying now, of life bereft am I: And death hath caught me with his dart, for want of blood I ſpy. Thus gaſping héer on ground I lye, for nothing I doo care: A iuſt rewad for my miſdeeds, my death dooth plain declare.