2 Henry the Sixth (The First Part of the Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster) · chunk 32 of 32
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written c.1590 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men (?) T43 York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and typicality 0.77 · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T43: henry, king, richard, warwick, york, edward, father, duke, crown, son.
And here I stand, and pitch my foot to thine, Vowing never to stir, till thou or I be slain, For never shall my heart be safe at rest, Till I have spoiled the hateful house of York. Now Lancaster sit sure, thy sinews shrink, Come fearful Henry groveling on thy face, Yield up thy Crown unto the Prince of York. Father of Comberland, Where may I seek my aged father forth? O dismal sight! see where he breathless lies, All smeared and weltered in his lukewarm blood, Ah, aged pillar of all Comberlands true house, Sweet father, to thy murdered Ghost I swear, Immortal hate unto the house of York, Nor never shall I sleep secure one night, Till I have furiously revenged thy death, And left not one of them to breatheon earth. And thus as old Ankises son did bear His aged father on his manly back, And sought with him against the bloody Greekes: Even so will I: but stay, here's one of them, To whom my soul hath sworn immortal hate. Out croorktbacke villain, get thee from my sight, But I will after thee, and once again, When I have borne my father to his tent, I'll tue my fortune better with thee. Away my Lord, and sly to London strait, Make haste, for vengeance comes along with them, Come, stand not to expostulate, let's go. Come then fair Queen, to London let us haste, And summon a parliament with speed, To stop the fury of these dire events. How now boys, fortunate this fight hath been, I hope to us and ours for England's good, And our great honour, that so long we lost, Whilst faintheart Henry, did usurp our rights: But did you see old Salisbury since we With bloody minds did buckle with the foe, I would not for the loss of this right hand, That ought but well betide that good old man. My Lord, I saw him in the thickest throng, Charging his lance with his old weary arms, And thrice I saw him beaten from his horse, And thrice this hand did set him up again, And still he fought with courage 'gainst his foes, The boldest spirited man that ere mine eyes beheld. See noble father where they both do come, The only props unto the house of York. Well hast thou fought this day, thou valiant Duke, And thou brave bud of York's increasing house, The small remainder of my weary life, I hold for thee, for with thy warlike arm, Three times this day thou hast preserved my life. What say you Lords, the King is fled to London▪ There (as I hear) to hold a Parliament. What says Lord Warwick, shall we after them? After them, nay before them if we can: Now by my Faith Lords 'twas a glorious day, Saint Albon's battle won by famous York, Shall be eternizd in all age to come, Sound Drums and Trumpets, and to London all, And more such days as these to us befall.
seed 43: T8 · seed 44: T50 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And here I ſtand, and pitch my foote to thine, Vowing neuer to ſtir, til thou or I be ſlaine, For neuer ſhall my heart be ſafe at reſt, Till I haue ſpoild the hatefull houſe of Yorke. Now Lancaſter ſit ſure, thy ſinewes ſhrinke, Come fearefull Henry groueling on thy face, Yeeld vp thy Crowne vnto the Prince of Yorke. Father of Comberland, Where may I ſeeke my aged father forth? O diſmall ſight! ſee where he breathleſſe lies, All ſmeard and weltred in his luke-warme bloud, Ah, aged pillar of all Comberlands true houſe, Sweete father, thy murthered Ghoſt I ſweare, Immortall hate vnto the houſe of Yorke, Nor neuer ſhall I ſleepe ſecure one night, Till I haue furiouſly reuengde thy death, And left not one of them to breatheon earth. And thus as olde Ankiſes ſonne did beare His aged father on his manly backe, And ſought with him againſt the bloudy Greekes: Euen ſo will I: but ſtay, heres one of them, To whom my ſoule hath ſworne immortall hate. Out croorktbacke villaine, get thee from my ſight, But I will after thee, and once againe, When I haue borne my father to his tent, Ile tue my fortune better with thee. Away my Lord, and ſlie to London ſtraight, Make haſte, for vengeance comes along with them, Come, ſtand not to expoſtulate, lets go. Come then faire Queene, to London let vs haſte, And ſummon a parlament with ſpeede, To ſtop the fury of theſe dyre euents. How now boyes, fortunate this fight hath beene, I hope to vs and ours for Englands good, And our great honor, that ſo we loſt, Whilſt faint-heart Henry, did vſurpe our rights: But did you ſee old Salsbury ſince we With bloudy minds did buckle with the foe, I would not for the loſſe of this right hand, That ought but well betide that good old man. My Lord, I ſaw him in the thickeſt throng, Charging his lance with his old weary armes, And thrice I ſaw him beaten from his horſe, And thrice this hand did ſet him vp againe, And ſtill he fought with courage gainſt his foes, The boldeſt ſprited man that ere mine eies beheld. See noble father where they both do come, The onely props vnto the houſe of Yorke. Well haſt thou fought this day, thou valiant Duke, And thou braue bud of Yorkes increaſing houſe, The ſmall remainder of my weary life, I hold for thee, for with thy warlike arme, Three times this day thou haſt preſerude my life. What ſay you Lords, the King is fled to London▪ There (as I heare) to hold a Parlament. What ſaies Lord Warwicke, ſhall we after them? After them, nay before them if we can: Now by my Faith Lords twas a glorious day, Saint Albons battell wonne by famous Yorke, Shal be eternizd in all age to come, Sound Drums and Trumpets, and to London all, And more ſuch daies as theſe to vs befall.