1 The Troublesome Reign of King John · chunk 9 of 29
Anonymous · published 1611 · first performed or written 1591 (Annals) history · Queen Elizabeth's Men T43 York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and typicality 0.84 · 462 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T43: henry, king, richard, warwick, york, edward, father, duke, crown, son.
Me seemeth Iohn, an overdaring spirit Effects some frenzy in thy rash approach, Treading my Confines with thy armed troops. I rather looked for some submiss reply Touching the claim thy Nephew Arthur makes To that which thou unjustly dost usurp. For that Chattilion can discharge you all, I list not plead my Title with my tongue. Nor came I hither with intent of wrong To France or thee, or any right of thine; But in defence and purchase of my right, The town of Angiers: which thou dost begirt In the behalf of Lady Constance son, Whereto nor he nor she can lay just claim. Yes (false intruder) if that just be just, And headstrong usurpation put apart, Arthur my Son, heir to thy elder brother, Without ambiguous shadow of descent, Is Sovereign to the substance thou withholdst. Misgoverned gossip, stain to this resort, Occasion of these undecided jars, I say (that know) to check thy vain suppose, Thy son hath nought to do with that he claims. For proof whereof, I can infer a Will, That bars the way he urgeth by descent. A Will indeed, a crabbed woman's will, Wherein the devil is an overseer, And proud dame Elinor sole Executress: More wills than so, on peril of my soul, Were never made to hinder Arthur's right. But say there was, as sure there can be none, The Law intends such testaments as void, Where right descent can no way be impeached. Peace Arthur peace, thy mother makes thee wings To soar with peril after Icarus, And trust me youngling for the Father's sake, I pity much the hazard of thy youth. Beshrew you else how pitiful you are, Ready to weep to hear him ask his own; Sorrow betid such Grandames and such grief, That minister a poison for pure love. But who so blind, as cannot see this beam, That you forsooth would keep your cousin down, For fear his mother should be used too well? I there's the grief, confusion catch the brain, That hammer's shifts to stop a Prince's reign. Impatient, frantic, common slanderer, Immodest dame, unnurtured quarreler, I tell thee I, not envy to thy son, But justice makes me speak as I have done. But here's no proof that shows your son a king. What wants, my sword shall more at large set down But that may break before the truth be known. Then this may hold till all his tight be shown. Good words sir sauce, your betters are in place. Not you sir doughty, with your lions case. Ah joy betid his soul, to whom that spoil belonged: Ah Richard, how thy glory here is wronged. Me thinks that Richard's pride & Richard's fall, Should be a precedent t'affright you all.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 465–524 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 9 of 29 in this edition
Length
462 words · 620 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T43 — York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and conflictcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.835 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
Me ſeemeth Iohn, an ouer-daring ſpirit Effects ſome frenſie in thy raſh approach, Treading my Confines with thy armed troupes. I rather lookt for ſome ſubmiſſe reply Touching the claime thy Nephew Arthur makes To that which thou vniuſtly doſt vſurpe. For that Chattilion can diſcharge you all, I liſt not pleade my Title with my tongue. Nor came I hither with intent of wrong To France or thee, or any right of thine; But in defence and purchaſe of my right, The towne of Angiers: which thou doſt begirt In the behalfe of Lady Constance ſonne, Whereto nor he nor ſhe can lay iuſt claime. Yes (falſe intruder) if that iuſt be iuſt, And head-ſtrong vſurpation put apart, Arthur my Sonne, heire to thy elder brother, Without ambiguous ſhadow of diſcent, Is Soueraigne to the ſubſtance thou withholdſt. Miſgouernd goſſip, ſtaine to this reſort, Occaſion of theſe vndecided iarres, I ſay (that know) to checke thy vaine ſuppoſe, Thy ſonne hath naught to do with that he claimes. For proofe whereof, I can inferre a Will, That barres the way he vrgeth by diſcent. A Will indeed, a crabbed womans will, Wherein the diuell is an ouerſeer, And prowd dame Elinor ſole Executreſſe: More wills than ſo, on perill of my ſoule, Were neuer made to hinder Arthurs right. But ſay there was, as ſure there can be none, The Law intends ſuch teſtaments as void, Where right diſcent can no way be impeacht. Peace Arthur peace, thy mother makes thee wings To ſoare with perill after Icarus, And truſt me yongling for the Fathers ſake, I pity much the hazard of thy youth. Beſhrew you elſe how pittifull you are, Ready to weepe to heare him aske his owne; Sorrow betide ſuch Grandames and ſuch griefe, That miniſter a poyſon for pure loue. But who ſo blind, as cannot ſee this beame, That you forſooth would keepe your couſin downe, For feare his mother ſhould be vs'd too well? I there's the griefe, confuſion catch the braine, That hammers ſhiftes to ſtop a Princes raigne. Impatient, franticke, common ſlaunderer, Immodeſt dame, vnnurtur'd quarreller, I tell thee I, not enuie to thy ſonne, But iuſtice makes me ſpeake as I haue done. But here's no proofe that ſhews your ſon a king. What wants, my ſword ſhal more at large ſet down But that may breake before the truth be known. Then this may hold till all his tight be ſhowne. Good words ſir ſauce, your betters are in place. Not you ſir doughtie, with your Lyons caſe. Ah ioy betide his ſoule, to whom that ſpoyle belong'd: Ah Richard, how thy glory here is wrong'd. Me thinks that Richards pride & Richards fall, Should be a preſident t'affright you all.