2 Henry the Sixth (The First Part of the Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster) · chunk 23 of 49
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written c.1590 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men (?) unassigned nearest T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea · 529 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Madame 'tis true: and were't not madness then, To make the Fox surveyor of the Fold? Who being accused a crafty Murderer, His guilt should be but idly posted over, Because his purpose is not executed. No: let him dye, in that he is a Fox, By nature proved an Enemy to the Flock, Before his Chaps be stained with Crimson blood, As Humphrey proved by Reasons to my Liege. And do not stand on Quillets how to slay him: Be it by 'Gins, by Snares, by Subtlety, Sleeping, or Waking, 'tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit, Which mates him first, that first intends deceit, Thrice Noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke. Not resolute, except so much were done, For things are often spoke, and seldom meant, But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, Seeing the deed is meritorious, And to preserve my Sovereign from his Foe, Say but the word, and I will be his Priest. But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolk, Ere you can take due Orders for a Priest: Say you consent, and censure well the deed, And I'll provide his Executioner, I tender so the safety of my Liege. Here is my Hand, the deed is worthy doing. And so say I And I: and now we three have spoke it, It skills not greatly who impugns our doom. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amain, To signify, that Rebels there are up, And put the Englishmen unto the Sword. Send Succours (Lords) and stop the Rage betime, Before the Wound do grow uncurable; For being green, there is great hope of help. A Breach that craves a quick expedient stop. What counsel give you in this weighty cause? That Somerset be sent as Regent thither: 'Tis meet that lucky Ruler be employed, Witness the fortune he hath had in France. If York, with all his far-fet policy, Had been the Regent there, in stead of me, He never would have stayed in France so long. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done, I rather would have lost my Life betimes, Then bring a burden of dis-honour home, By staying there so long, till all were lost. Show me one scar, charactered on thy Skin, men's flesh preserved so whole, do seldom win. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging fire, If Wind and Fuel be brought, to feed it with: No more, good York; sweet Somerset be still. Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been Regent there, Might happily have proved far worse than his. What, worse than naught? nay, than a shame take all. And in the number, thee, that wishest shame. My Lord of York, try what your fortune is: Th' uncivil Kerns of Ireland are in Arms, And temper Clay with blood of Englishmen. To Ireland will you lead a Band of men, Collected choicely, from each County some, And try your hap against the Irishmen. I will, my Lord, so please his Majesty. Why, our Authority is his consent, And what we do establish, he confirms: Then, Noble York, take thou this Task in hand.
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)
Madame 'tis true: and wer't not madneſſe then, To make the Fox ſurueyor of the Fold? Who being accus'd a craftie Murtherer, His guilt ſhould be but idly poſted ouer, Becauſe his purpoſe is not executed. No: let him dye, in that he is a Fox, By nature prou'd an Enemie to the Flock, Before his Chaps be ſtayn'd with Crimſon blood, As Humfrey prou'd by Reaſons to my Liege. And doe not ſtand on Quillets how to ſlay him: Be it by Gynnes, by Snares, by Subtletie, Sleeping, or Waking, 'tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit, Which mates him firſt, that firſt intends deceit, Thrice Noble Suffolke, 'tis reſolutely ſpoke. Not reſolute, except ſo much were done, For things are often ſpoke, and ſeldome meant, But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, Seeing the deed is meritorious, And to preſerue my Soueraigne from his Foe, Say but the word, and I will be his Prieſt. But I would haue him dead, my Lord of Suffolke, Ere you can take due Orders for a Prieſt: Say you conſent, and cenſure well the deed, And Ile prouide his Executioner, I tender ſo the ſafetie of my Liege. Here is my Hand, the deed is worthy doing. And ſo ſay I. And I: and now we three haue ſpoke it, It skills not greatly who impugnes our doome. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amaine, To ſignifie, that Rebels there are vp, And put the Engliſhmen vnto the Sword. Send Succours (Lords) and ſtop the Rage betime, Before the Wound doe grow vncurable; For being greene, there is great hope of helpe. A Breach that craues a quick expedient ſtoppe. What counſaile giue you in this weightie cauſe? That Somerſet be ſent as Regent thither: 'Tis meet that luckie Ruler be imploy'd, Witneſſe the fortune he hath had in France. If Yorke, with all his farre-fet pollicie, Had beene the Regent there, in ſtead of me, He neuer would haue ſtay'd in France ſo long. No, not to loſe it all, as thou haſt done, I rather would haue loſt my Life betimes, Then bring a burthen of dis-honour home, By ſtaying there ſo long, till all were loſt. Shew me one skarre, character'd on thy Skinne, Mens fleſh preſeru'd ſo whole, doe ſeldome winne. Nay then, this ſparke will proue a raging fire, If Wind and Fuell be brought, to feed it with: No more, good Yorke; ſweet Somerſet be ſtill. Thy fortune, Yorke, hadſt thou beene Regent there, Might happily haue prou'd farre worſe then his. What, worſe then naught? nay, then a ſhame take all. And in the number, thee, that wiſheſt ſhame. My Lord of Yorke, trie what your fortune is: Th' vnciuill Kernes of Ireland are in Armes, And temper Clay with blood of Engliſhmen. To Ireland will you leade a Band of men, Collected choycely, from each Countie ſome, And trie your hap againſt the Iriſhmen▪ I will, my Lord, ſo pleaſe his Maieſtie. Why, our Authoritie is his conſent, And what we doe eſtabliſh, he confirmes: Then, Noble Yorke, take thou this Taske in hand.