2 Henry the Sixth (The First Part of the Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster) · chunk 10 of 49
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written c.1590 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men (?) unassigned nearest T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour · 489 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Patience, good Lady, Wizards know their times: Deep Night, dark Night, the silent of the Night, The time of Night when Troy was set on fire, The time when Screech-owls cry, and Bandogs howl, And Spirits walk, and Ghosts break up their Graves; That time best fits the work we have in hand. Madame, sit you, and fear not: whom we raise, We will make fast within a hallowed Verge. Ad sum. Asmath, by the eternal God, Whose name and power thou tremblest at, Answer that I shall ask: for till thou speak, Thou shalt not pass from hence. Ask what thou wilt; that I had said, and done. First of the King: What shall of him become? The Duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose: But him outlive, and dye a violent death. What fates await the Duke of Suffolk? By Water shall he dye, and take his end. What shall befall the Duke of Somerset? Let him shun Castles, Safer shall he be upon the sandy Plains, Then where Castles mounted stand. Have done, for more I hardly can endure. Descend to Darkness, and the burning Lake: False Fiend avoid. Lay hands upon these Traitors, and their trash: Beldame I think we watched you at an inch. What Madame, are you there? the King & Commonweal Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains; My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not, See you well guerdoned for these good deserts. Not half so bad as thine to England's King, Injurious Duke, that threatest where's no cause. True Madame, none at all: what call you this? Away with them, let them be clapped up close, And kept asunder: you Madame shall with us. Stafford take her to thee. we'll see your Trinkets here all forthcoming. All away. Lord Buckingham, me thinks you watched her well: A pretty Plot, well chosen to build upon. Now pray my Lord, let's see the Devil's Writ. What have we here? The Duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose: But him out-line, and dye a violent death. Why this is just Aio Aeacida Romanos vincere posso. Well, to the rest: Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk? By Water shall he dye, and take his end. What shall betide the Duke of Somerset? Let him shun Castles, Safer shall he be upon the sandy Plains, Then where Castles mounted stand. Come, come, my Lords, These Oracles are hardly attained, And hardly understood. The King is now in progress towards Saint Alban's, With him, the Husband of this lovely Lady: Thither goes these News, As fast as Horse can carry them: A sorry Breakfast for my Lord Protector. Your Grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York, To be the Post, in hope of his reward. At your pleasure, my good Lord. Who's within there, ho? Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick To sup with me to morrow Night. Away.
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)
Patience, good Lady, Wizards know their times: Deepe Night, darke Night, the ſilent of the Night, The time of Night when Troy was ſet on fire, The time when Screech-owles cry, and Bandogs howle, And Spirits walke, and Ghoſts breake vp their Graues; That time beſt fits the worke we haue in hand. Madame, ſit you, and feare not: whom wee rayſe, Wee will make faſt within a hallow'd Verge. Ad ſum. Aſmath, by the eternall God, Whoſe name and power thou trembleſt at, Anſwere that I ſhall aske: for till thou ſpeake, Thou ſhalt not paſſe from hence. Aske what thou wilt; that I had ſayd, and done. Firſt of the King: What ſhall of him become? The Duke yet liues, that Henry ſhall depoſe: But him out-liue, and dye a violent death. What fates await the Duke of Suffolke? By Water ſhall he dye, and take his end. What ſhall befall the Duke of Somerſet? Let him ſhun Caſtles, Safer ſhall he be vpon the ſandie Plaines, Then where Caſtles mounted ſtand. Haue done, for more I hardly can endure. Diſcend to Darkneſſe, and the burning Lake: Falſe Fiend auoide. Lay hands vpon theſe Traytors, and their traſh: Beldam I thinke we watcht you at an ynch. What Madame, are you there? the King & Commonweale Are deepely indebted for this peece of paines; My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not, See you well guerdon'd for theſe good deſerts. Not halfe ſo bad as thine to Englands King, Iniurious Duke, that threateſt where's no cauſe. True Madame, none at all: what call you this? Away with them, let them be clapt vp cloſe, And kept aſunder: you Madame ſhall with vs. Stafford take her to thee. Wee'le ſee your Trinkets here all forth-comming. All away. Lord Buckingham, me thinks you watcht her well: A pretty Plot, well choſen to build vpon. Now pray my Lord, let's ſee the Deuils Writ. What haue we here? The Duke yet liues, that Henry ſhall depoſe: But him out-line, and dye a violent death. Why this is iuſt Aio Aeacida Romanos vincere poſſo. Well, to the reſt: Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolke? By Water ſhall he dye, and take his end. What ſhall betide the Duke of Somerſet? Let him ſhunne Castles, Safer ſhall he be vpon the ſandie Plaines, Then where Caſtles mounted ſtand. Come, come, my Lords, Theſe Oracles are hardly attain'd, And hardly vnderſtood. The King is now in progreſſe towards Saint Albones, With him, the Husband of this louely Lady: Thither goes theſe Newes, As faſt as Horſe can carry them: A ſorry Breakfaſt for my Lord Protector. Your Grace ſhal giue me leaue, my Lord of York, To be the Poſte, in hope of his reward. At your pleaſure, my good Lord. Who's within there, hoe? Inuite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick To ſuppe with me to morrow Night. Away.