2 Henry the Sixth (The First Part of the Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster) · chunk 24 of 49
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written c.1590 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men (?) unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 534 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
I am content: Provide me Soldiers, Lords, Whiles I take order for mine own affairs. A charge, Lord York, that I will see performed. But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey. No more of him: for I will deal with him, That henceforth he shall trouble us no more: And so break off, the day is almost spent, Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event. My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days At Bristol I expect my Soldiers, For there I'll ship them all for Ireland. I'll see it truly done, my Lord of York. Now York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts, And change misdoubt to resolution; Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art; Resign to death, it is not worth th' enjoying: Let palefaced fear keep with the meane-borne man, And find no harbour in a Royal heart. Faster than Springtime showers, comes thought on thought, And not a thought, but thinks on Dignity. My Brain, more busy than the labouring Spider, Weaves tedious Snares to trap mine Enemies. Well Nobles, well: 'tis politicly done, To send me packing with an Host of men: I fear me, you but warm the starved Snake, Who cherished in your breasts, will sting your hearts. 'Twas men I lacked, and you will give them me; I take it kindly: yet be well assured, You put sharp Weapons in a madman's hands. Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty Band, I will stir up in England some black Storm, Shall blow ten thousand Souls to Heaven, or Hell: And this fell Tempest shall not cease to rage, Until the Golden Circuit on my Head, Like to the glorious Sun's transparent Beams, Do calm the fury of this mad-bred Flaw. And for a minister of my intent, I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman, Iohn Cade of Ashford, To make Commotion, as full well he can, Under the Title of Iohn Mortimer. In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade Oppose himself against a Troop of Kerns, And fought so long, till that his thighs with Darts Were almost like a sharpe-quilled Porpentine: And in the end being rescued, I have seen Him capre upright, like a wild Morisco, Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells. Full often, like a shag-hayred crafty Kern, Hath he conversed with the Enemy, And undiscovered, come to me again, And given me notice of their Villainies. This Devil here shall be my substitute; For that Iohn Mortimer, which now is dead, In face, in gate, in speech he doth resemble. By this, I shall perceive the Commons mind, How they affect the House and Clayme of York. Say he be taken, racked, and tortured; I know, no pain they can inflict upon him, Will make him say, I moved him to those Arms. Say that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will, Why then from Ireland come I with my strength, And reap the Harvest which that Rascal sowed. For Humphrey; being dead, as he shall be, And Henry put apart: the next for me. Run to my Lord of Suffolk: let him know We have dispatched the Duke, as he commanded.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T13 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I am content: Prouide me Souldiers, Lords, Whiles I take order for mine owne affaires. A charge, Lord Yorke, that I will ſee perform'd. But now returne we to the falſe Duke Humfrey. No more of him: for I will deale with him, That henceforth he ſhall trouble vs no more: And ſo breake off, the day is almoſt ſpent, Lord Suffolke, you and I muſt talke of that euent. My Lord of Suffolke, within foureteene dayes At Briſtow I expect my Souldiers, For there Ile ſhippe them all for Ireland. Ile ſee it truly done, my Lord of Yorke. Now Yorke, or neuer, ſteele thy fearfull thoughts, And change miſdoubt to reſolution; Be that thou hop'ſt to be, or what thou art; Reſigne to death, it is not worth th' enioying: Let pale-fac't feare keepe with the meane-borne man, And finde no harbor in a Royall heart. Faſter thē Spring-time ſhowres, comes thoght on thoght, And not a thought, but thinkes on Dignitie. My Brayne, more buſie then the laboring Spider, Weaues tedious Snares to trap mine Enemies. Well Nobles, well: 'tis politikely done, To ſend me packing with an Hoaſt of men: I feare me, you but warme the ſtarued Snake, Who cheriſht in your breaſts, will ſting your hearts. 'Twas men I lackt, and you will giue them me; I take it kindly: yet be well aſſur'd, You put ſharpe Weapons in a mad-mans hands. Whiles I in Ireland nouriſh a mightie Band, I will ſtirre vp in England ſome black Storme, Shall blowe ten thouſand Soules to Heauen, or Hell: And this fell Tempeſt ſhall not ceaſe to rage, Vntill the Golden Circuit on my Head, Like to the glorious Sunnes tranſparant Beames, Doe calme the furie of this mad-bred Flawe. And for a miniſter of my intent, I haue ſeduc'd a head-ſtrong Kentiſhman, Iohn Cade of Aſhford, To make Commotion, as full well he can, Vnder the Title of Iohn Mortimer. In Ireland haue I ſeene this ſtubborne Cade Oppoſe himſelfe againſt a Troupe of Kernes, And fought ſo long, till that his thighes with Darts Were almoſt like a ſharpe-quill'd Porpentine: And in the end being reſcued, I haue ſeene Him capre vpright, like a wilde Moriſco, Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells. Full often, like a ſhag-hayr'd craftie Kerne, Hath he conuerſed with the Enemie, And vndiſcouer'd, come to me againe, And giuen me notice of their Villanies. This Deuill here ſhall be my ſubſtitute; For that Iohn Mortimer, which now is dead, In face, in gate, in ſpeech he doth reſemble. By this, I ſhall perceiue the Commons minde, How they affect the Houſe and Claye of Yorke. Say he be taken, rackt, and tortured; I know, no paine they can inflict vpon him, Will make him ſay, I mou'd him to thoſe Armes. Say that he thriue, as 'tis great like he will, Why then from Ireland come I with my ſtrength, And reape the Harueſt which that Raſcall ſow'd. For Humfrey; being dead, as he ſhall be, And Henry put apart: the next for me. Runne to my Lord of Suffolke: let him know We haue diſpatcht the Duke, as he commanded▪