Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Madam good chcere, these drooping languishmentes Add no redress to salve our awkward haps. If heavens have concluded these events, To small avail is bitter pensiveness: Seasons will change, and so our present grief May change with them, and all to our relief. Ah boy, thy years I see are far too green To look into the bottom ofthese cares. But I, who see the poise that weigheth down Thy weal, my wish, and all the willing means Wherewith thy fortune and thy fame should mount. What joy, what ease, what rest can lodge in me, With whom all hope and hap doth disagree? Yet Ladies tears, and cares, and solemn shows, Rather than helps, heap up more work for woes. If any Power will hear a widows plaint, That from a wounded soul implores revenge; Send fell contagion to infect this Clime, This cursed Country, where the traitors breath. Whose perjury as proud Briareus, Beleaguers all the Sky with misbelief. He promised Arthur, and he swore it too, To fence thy right, and check thy foeman's pride: But now black-spotted Perjure as he is, He takes a truce with Elnor's damned brat, And marries Lewes to her lovely Niece, Sharing thy fortune, and thy birthdays gift Between these lovers: ill betid the match. And as they shoulder thee from out thy own, And triumph in a widows tearful cares: So heavens cross them with a thriftless course. Is all the blood yspilt on either part, Closing the crannies of the thirsty earth, Grown to a lovegame and a Bridal feast? And must thy birthright hide the wedding banes? Poor helpless boy, hopeless and helpless too, To whom misfortune seems no yoke at all. Thy stay, thy state, thy imminent mishaps Woundeth thy mother's thoughts with feeling care, Why look'st thou pale? the colour flies thy face, I trouble now the fountain of thy youth, And make it moody with my doles discourse, Go in with me, reply not lovely boy, We must obscure this moan with melody, Lest worse wrack ensue our malcontent. This is the day, the long desired day, Wherein the Realms of England and of France Stand highly blessed in a lasting peace. Thrice happy is the Bridegroom and the Bride, From whose sweet Bridal such a concord springs, To make of mortal foes immortal friends. ungodly peace made by an others war. Unhappy peace, that ties thee from revenge. Rouse thee Plantagenet, live not to see The butcher of the great Plantiginet. Kings, Princes, and ye Peers of either Realms, Pardon my rashness, and forgive the zeal That carries me in fury to a deed Of high desert, of honour, and of arms. A boon O Kings, a boon doth Philip beg Prostrate upon his knee: which knee shall cleave Unto the superficies of the earth, Till France and England grant this glorious boon. Speak Philip, England grants thee thy request. And France confirms what ere is in his power.
seed 43: T8 · seed 44: T8 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Madam good chcere, theſe drouping languiſhmētes Adde no redreſſe to ſalue our awkward haps. If heauens haue concluded theſe euents, To ſmall auaile is bitter penſiuenes: Seaſons will change, and ſo our preſent griefe May change with them, and all to our reliefe. Ah boy, thy yeares I ſée are farre too greene To looke into the bottome of-theſe cares. But I, who ſee the poyſe that weigheth downe Thy weale, my wiſh, and all the willing meanes Wherewith thy fortune and thy fame ſhould mount. What ioy, what eaſe, what reſt can lodge in me, With whom all hope and hap doth diſagree? Yet Ladies teares, and cares, and ſolemne ſhows, Rather than helpes, heape vp more worke for woes. If any Power will heare a widdowes plaint, That from a wounded ſoule implores reuenge; Send fell contagion to infect this Clyme, This curſed Countrey, where the traytors breath. Whoſe periurie as prowd Briareus, Beleaguers all the Skie with miſbeliefe. He promiſt Arthur, and he ſware it too, To fence thy right, and check thy foemans pride: But now black-ſpotted Periure as he is, He takes a truce with Elnors damned brat, And marries Lewes to her louely Neece, Sharing thy fortune, and thy birth-dayes gift Betweene theſe louers: ill betide the match. And as they ſhoulder thee from out thy owne, And triumph in a widowes tearefull cares: So heauens croſſe them with a thriftles courſe. Is all the bloud yſpilt on either part, Cloſing the cranies of the thirſtie earth, Growne to a louegame and a Bridall feaſt? And muſt thy birthright hid the wedding banes? Poore helples boy, hopeles and helples too, To whom miſfortune ſeemes no yoke at all. Thy ſtay, thy ſtate, thy imminent miſhaps Woundeth thy mothers thoughts with feeling care, Why lookſt thou pale? the colour flyes thy face, I trouble now the fountaine of thy yoth, And make it moodie with my doles diſcourſe, Goe in with me, reply not louely boy, We muſt obſcure this mone with melodie, Leaſt worſer wrack enſue our malecontent. This is the day, the long deſired day, Wherein the Realmes of England and of Fraunce Stand highly bleſſed in a laſting peace. Thrice happie is the Bridegroome and the Bride, From whoſe ſweete Bridale ſuch a concord ſprings, To make of mortall foes immortall friends. Vngodly peace made by an others warre. Vnhappie peace, that ties thee from reuenge. Rouſe thée Plantaginet, liue not to ſee The butcher of the great Plantiginet. Kings, Princes, and ye Peeres of either Realmes, Pardon my raſhnes, and forgiue the zeale That caries me in furie to a deede Of high deſert, of honour, and of armes. A boone O Kings, a boone doth Philip beg Proſtrate vpon his knee: which knee ſhall cleaue Vnto the ſuperficies of the earth, Till Fraunce and England graunt this glorious boone. Speake Philip, England graunts thee thy requeſt. And Fraunce confirmes what ere is in his power.