2 Henry the Sixth (The First Part of the Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster) · chunk 20 of 32
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written c.1590 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men (?) T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.79 · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Ungentle Queen, to call him gentle Suffolk, Speak not for him, for in England he shall not rest, If I say, I may relent, but if I swear it is irrevocable: Come Warwick, and go thou in with me, For I have great matters to impart to thee. Hell fire and vengeance go along with you, There's two of you, the devil make the third, F womanish man, canst thou not curse thy enemies? A plague upon them: wherefore should I curse them? Could curses kill as do the Mandrake's groans, I would invent as many bitter terms, Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth, With twice so many signs of deadly hate, As lean faced Envy in her loathsome cave, My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words, Mine etes should sparkle like the beaten flint, My hair be fixed on end, as one distraught, And every joint should seem to curse and ban, And now me thinks my burdened heart would break. Should I not curse them: poison be their drink, Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest thing they taste, Their sweetest shade, a grove of sypris trees, Their softest touch, as smart as lyzards stings, Their music frightful, like the serpent's hiss. And boding scrike-owles make the consort full, All the foul terrors in dark seated hell. Enough sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thyself. You bade me ban, and will you bid me ceased Now by this ground that I am banished from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, And standing naked on a mountain top, Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport. No more, sweet Suffolk, hie thee hence to France, Or live where thou wilt within this worlds globe, I'll have an Irish that shall find thee out, And long thou shalt not stay, but i'll have thee repealed, Or venture to be banished myself, Oh let this kisle be printed in thy hand. That when thou seest it, thou mayst think on me: A way, I say, that I may feel my grief, For it is nothing whilst thou standest here. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, Once by the King, but three times thrice by thee. How now, whither goes Vawse so fast? To signify unto his majesty, That Cardinal Bewford is at point of death, Sometimes he raves and cries as he were mad, Sometimes he calls upon Duke Humphreys ghost, And whispers to his pillow as to him, And sometime he calls to speak unto the King, And I am going to certify unto his grace, That even now he called aloud for him. Go then good Vawse, and certify the King. Oh what is worldly pomp! all men must die. And woe am I for Bewfords heavy end, But why mourn I for him, whilst thou art here? Sweet Suffolk hie thee hence to France, For if the King do come, thou sure must die.
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)
Vngentle Queene, to cal him gentle Suffolke, Speake not for him, for in England he ſhall not reſt, If I ſay, I may relent, but if I ſweare it is irreuocable: Come Warwicke, and go thou in with me, For I haue great matters to impart to thee. Hell fire and vengeance go along with you, Theres two of you, the diuell make the third, Fre womaniſh man, canſt thou not curſe thy enemies? A plague vpon them: wherefore ſhould I curſe them? Could curſes kill as do the Mandrakes groanes, I would inuent as many bitter termes, Deliuered ſtrongly through my fixed teeth, With twice ſo many ſignes of deadly hate, As leane facde Enuy in her loathſome caue, My tongue ſhould ſtumble in mine earneſt words, Mine etes ſhould ſparkle like the beaten ſlint, My haire be fixt on end, as one diſtraught, And euery ioynt ſhould ſeeme to curſe and ban, And now me thinkes my burthened heart would breake. Should I not curſe them: poiſon be their drinke, Gall, worſe then gall, the daintieſt thing they taſte, Their ſweeteſt ſhade, a groue of ſypris trees, Their ſofteſt touch, as ſmart as lyzards ſtings, Their muſique frightfull, like the ſerpents hiſſe. And boding ſcrike-owles make the conſort full, All the foule terrors in darke ſeated hell. Enough ſweete Suffolke, thou tormentſt thy ſelf. You bade me ban, and will you bid me ceaſed Now by this ground that I am baniſht from, Well could I curſe away a winters night, And ſtanding naked on a mountaine top, Where biting cold would neuer let graſſe grow, And thinke it but a minute ſpent in ſport. No more, ſweete Suffolk, hie thee hence to France, Or liue where thou wilt within this worldes globe, Ile haue an Iriſh that ſhall find thee out, And long thou ſhalt not ſtay, but ile haue thee repeald, Or venture to be baniſhed my ſelfe, Oh let this kiſle be printed in thy hand. That when thou ſeeſt it, thou maiſt thinke on me: A way, I ſay, that I may feele my griefe, For it is nothing whilſt thou ſtandeſt here. Thus is poore Suffolke ten times baniſhed, Once by the King, but three times thrice by thee. How now, whither goes Vawſe ſo faſt▪ To ſignific vnto his maieſty, That Cardinall Bewford is at point of death, Somtimes he raues and cries as he were mad, Sometimes he calls vpon Duke Humphreys ghoſt, And whiſpers to his pillow as to him, And ſometime he calls to ſpeake vnto the King, And I am going to certifie vnto his grace, That euen now he cald alowd for him. Go then good Vawſe, and certifie the King. Oh what is worldly pompe! all men muſt die. And woe am I for Bewfords heauy end, But why mourne I for him, whilſt thou art here? Sweete Suffolke hie thee hence to France, For if the King do come, thou ſure muſt die.