2 Henry the Sixth (The First Part of the Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster) · chunk 19 of 32
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written c.1590 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men (?) T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.76 · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Are you the Kite Bewford, where's your talants? Is Suffolk the butcher, where's his Knife? I wear no Knife to slaughter sleeping men, But here's a vengeful sword rusted with case, That shall be scoured in his 〈…〉 heart, That slanders me with murders crimson badge, Say if thou dare proud Lord of Warwickshire, That I am guilty in Duke Humphreys death. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him? He dares not calm his contumelious spirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, Though Suffolk dare him twenty hundredth times. Madame be ye still, with reverence may I say it, That every word you speak in his defence, Is slander to your royal majesty. Blunt witted lord, ignoble in thy words, If ever Lady wronged her lord so much, Thy mother took unto her blameful bed, Some stern vntutred churl, and noble stock, Was grafted with crabtree slip, whose fruit thou art, And never of the Nevil's noble race. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee, And I should rob the death's man of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sovereign's presence makes me mute, I would false murderous coward on thy knees, Make thee crave pardon for thy passed speech, And say it was thy mother that thou meantst, That thou thyself wast borne in bastardy, And after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell, Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men. Thou shouldst be waking whilst I shed thy blood, If from this presence thou dare go with me. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence. Why how now lords? The traitorous Warwick with the men of Berry, Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. My Lord, the Commons sends you word by me, That unless false Suffolk here be done to death, Or banished fair England's territories, That they will err from your highness person, They say, by him the good Duke Humphrey died, They say, by him they fear the ruin of the Realm: And therefore, if you love your subjects weal, They wish you to banish him from forth the land. Indeed 'tis like the Commons rude unpolished hinds, Would send such message to their sovereign, But you my lord were glad to be employed. To try how acquaint an Orator you were, But all the honour Salisbury hath got, Is, that he was the Lord Ambassador, Sent from a sort of tinkars to the King. Good Salisbury go back again to them. Tell them we thank them for all their loving care, And had not I been cited thus by their means, Myself had done it: therefore here I swear, If Suffolk be found to breath in any place, Where I have rule, but three days more, he dies. Oh Henry, reverse the doom of gentle Suffolk's banishment.
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)
Are you the Kite Bewford, where's your talants? Is Suffolke the butcher, where's his Knife? I weare no Knife to ſlaughter ſleeping men, But heres a vengefull ſword ruſted with caſe, That ſhall be ſcoured in his heart, That ſlanders me with murthers crimſon badge, Say if thou dare prowd Lord of Warwickſhire, That I am guilty in Duke Humphreys death. What dares not Warwick, if falſe Suffolk dare him▪ He dares not calme his contumelious ſpirit, Nor ceaſe to be an arrogant controwler, Though Suffolke dare him twentie hundreth times. Madame be ye ſtill, with reuerence may I ſay it, That euery word you ſpeake in his defence, Is ſlaunder to your royall maieſtie. Blunt witted lord, ignoble in thy words, If euer Lady wrongd her lord ſo much, Thy mother tooke vnto her blamefull bed, Some ſterne vntutred churle, and noble ſtocke, Was graft with crab-tree ſlip, whoſe fruite thou art, And neuer of the Neuils noble race. But that the guilt of murther bucklers thee, And I ſhould rob the deaths man of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thouſand ſhames, And that my ſoueraignes preſence makes me mute, I would falſe murtherous coward on thy knees, Make thee craue pardon for thy paſſed ſpeech, And ſay it was thy mother that thou meantſt, That thou thy ſelfe waſt borne in baſtardy, And after all this fearefull homage done, Giue thee thy hyre, and ſend thy ſoule to hell, Pernitious bloud-ſucker of ſleeping men. Thou ſhouldſt be waking whilſt I ſhead thy bloud, If from this preſence thou dare go with me. Away euen now, or I will drag thee hence. Why how now lords? The traiterous Warwicke with the men of Berry, Set al vpon me, mightie ſoueraigne. My Lord, the Commons ſends you word by me, That vnleſſe falſe Suffolk here be done to death, Or baniſhed faire Englands territories, That they will erre from your highneſſe perſon, They ſay, by him the good Duke Humphrey died, They ſay, by him they feare the ruine of the Realme: And therefore, if you loue your ſubiects weale, They wiſh you to baniſh him from forth the land. Indeed tis like the Commons rude vnpoliſht hinds, Would ſend ſuch meſſage to their ſoueraigne, But you my lord were glad to be imployd. To trie how quaint an Orator you were, But all the honor Salsbury hath got, Is, that he was the Lord Embaſſadour, Sent from a ſort of tinkars to the King. Good Salsbury go backe againe to them. Tell them we thanke them for all their louing care, And had not I beene cited thus by their meanes, My ſelfe had done it: therefore here I ſweare, If Suffolke be found to breathe in any place, Where I haue rule, but three daies more, he dies. Oh Henry, reuerſe the doome of gentle Suffolkes baniſhment.