2 Henry the Sixth (The First Part of the Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster) · chunk 22 of 49
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written c.1590 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men (?) T43 York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and typicality 0.80 · 516 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.
Ah, thus King Henry throws away his Crutch, Before his Legs be firm to bear his Body. Thus is the Shepherd beaten from thy side, And Wolves are gnarling, who shall gnaw thee first. Ah that my fear were false, ah that it were; For good King Henry, thy decay I fear. My Lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best, Do, or undo, as if ourself were here. What, will your Highness leave the Parliament? I Margaret: my heart is drowned with grief, Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes; My Body round engirt with misery: For what's more miserable than Discontent? Ah Uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see The Map of Honour, Truth, and Loyalty: And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come, That ere I proved thee false, or feared thy faith. What lowering Star now envies thy estate? That these great Lords, and Margaret our Queen, Do seek subversion of thy harmless Life. Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong: And as the Butcher takes away the Calf, And binds the Wretch, and beats it when it strays, Bearing it to the bloody Slaughter-house; Even so remorseless have they borne him hence: And as the Dam runs lowing up and down, Looking the way her harmless young one went, And can do naught but wail her Darlings loss; Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case With sad unhelpefull tears, and with dimmed eyes; Look after him, and cannot do him good: So mighty are his vowed Enemies. His fortunes I will weep, and 'twixt each groan, Say, who's a Traitor? Gloster he is none. Free Lords: Cold Snow melts with the Sun's hot Beams: Henry, my Lord, is cold in great Affairs, Too full of foolish pity: and Gloucester's show Beguiles him, as the mournful Crocodile With sorrow snares relenting passengers; Or as the Snake, rolled in a flowering Bank, With shining checkered slough doth sting a Child, That for the beauty thinks it excellent. Believe me Lords, were none more wise than I, And yet herein I judge mine own Wit good; This Gloster should be quickly rid the World, To rid us from the fear we have of him. That he should dye, is worthy policy, But yet we want a Colour for his death: 'Tis meet he be condemned by course of Law. But in my mind, that were no policy: The King will labour still to save his Life, The Commons haply rise, to save his Life; And yet we have but trivial argument, More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death. So that by this, you would not have him dye. Ah York, no man alive, so fain as I. 'Tis York that hath more reason for his death. But my Lord Cardinal, and you my Lord of Suffolk, Say as you think, and speak it from your Souls: Were't not all one, an empty Eagle were set, To guard the Chicken from a hungry Kyte, As place Duke Humphrey for the King's Protector? So the poor Chicken should be sure of death.
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William
Publication year (edition)
1623
First performance / composition (Annals)
c.1590
First performance (BritDrama)
1591 [1587-1592]
Company (BritDrama)
Pembroke's Men (?)
Genre (British Drama)
history
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 224 · TCP A11954 · DEEP 5081.21
Edition role
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1305–1368 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 22 of 49 in this edition
Length
516 words · 686 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T43 — York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and conflictcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.798 (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)
Ah, thus King Henry throwes away his Crutch, Before his Legges be firme to beare his Body. Thus is the Shepheard beaten from thy ſide, And Wolues are gnarling, who ſhall gnaw thee firſt. Ah that my feare were falſe, ah that it were; For good King Henry, thy decay I feare. My Lords, what to your wiſdomes ſeemeth beſt, Doe, or vndoe, as if our ſelfe were here. What, will your Highneſſe leaue the Parliament? I Margaret: my heart is drown'd with griefe, Whoſe floud begins to flowe within mine eyes; My Body round engyrt with miſerie: For what's more miſerable then Diſcontent? Ah Vnckle Humfrey, in thy face I ſee The Map of Honor, Truth, and Loyaltie: And yet, good Humfrey, is the houre to come, That ere I prou'd thee falſe, or fear'd thy faith. What lowring Starre now enuies thy eſtate? That theſe great Lords, and Margaret our Queene, Doe ſeeke ſubuerſion of thy harmeleſſe Life. Thou neuer didſt them wrong, nor no man wrong: And as the Butcher takes away the Calfe, And binds the Wretch, and beats it when it ſtrayes, Bearing it to the bloody Slaughter-houſe; Euen ſo remorſeleſſe haue they borne him hence: And as the Damme runnes lowing vp and downe, Looking the way her harmeleſſe young one went, And can doe naught but wayle her Darlings loſſe; Euen ſo my ſelfe bewayles good Gloſters caſe With ſad vnhelpefull teares, and with dimn'd eyes; Looke after him, and cannot doe him good: So mightie are his vowed Enemies. His fortunes I will weepe, and 'twixt each groane, Say, who's a Traytor? Gloster he is none. Free Lords: Cold Snow melts with the Sunnes hot Beames: Henry, my Lord, is cold in great Affaires, Too full of fooliſh pittie: and Gloſters ſhew Beguiles him, as the mournefull Crocodile With ſorrow ſnares relenting paſſengers; Or as the Snake, roll'd in a flowring Banke, With ſhining checker'd ſlough doth ſting a Child, That for the beautie thinkes it excellent. Beleeue me Lords, were none more wiſe then I, And yet herein I iudge mine owne Wit good; This Gloſter ſhould be quickly rid the World, To rid vs from the feare we haue of him. That he ſhould dye, is worthie pollicie, But yet we want a Colour for his death: 'Tis meet he be condemn'd by courſe of Law. But in my minde, that were no pollicie: The King will labour ſtill to ſaue his Life, The Commons haply riſe, to ſaue his Life; And yet we haue but triuiall argument, More then miſtruſt, that ſhewes him worthy death. So that by this, you would not haue him dye. Ah Yorke, no man aliue, ſo faine as I. 'Tis Yorke that hath more reaſon for his death. But my Lord Cardinall, and you my Lord of Suffolke, Say as you thinke, and ſpeake it from your Soules: Wer't not all one, an emptie Eagle were ſet, To guard the Chicken from a hungry Kyte, As place Duke Humfrey for the Kings Protector? So the poore Chicken ſhould be ſure of death.