2 Henry the Sixth (The First Part of the Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster) · chunk 26 of 49
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written c.1590 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men (?) T29 Disguise and pursuit in Look About You typicality 0.79 · 508 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T29: gloster, faukenbridge, skinke, hermit, richard, prince, iohn, porter, henry, brother.
Ah woe is me for Gloster, wretched man. Be woe for me, more wretched than he is. What, Dost thou turn away, and hide thy face? I am no loathsome Leper, look on me. What? Art thou like the Adder waxed deaf? Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn Queen. Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's Tomb? Why then Dame Elinor was near thy joy. Erect his Statue, and worship it, And make my Image but an Alehouse sign. Was I for this nigh wracked upon the Sea, And twice by awkward wind from England's bank drove back again unto my Native Clime. What boded this? but well forewarning wind Did seem to say, seek not a Scorpion's Nest, Nor set no footing on this unkind Shore. What did I then? But cursed the gentle gusts, And he that loosed them forth their Brazen Caves, And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore, Or turn our Stern upon a dreadful Rock: Yet Aeolus would not be a murderer, But left that hateful office unto thee. The pretty vaulting Sea refused to drown me, Knowing that thou wouldst have me drowned on shore With tears as salt as Sea, through thy unkindness. The splitting Rocks cowred in the sinking sands, And would not dash me with their ragged sides, Because thy flinty heart more hard than they, Might in thy Palace, perish Elinor. As far as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffs, When from thy Shore, the Tempest beat us back, I stood upon the Hatches in the storm: And when the dusky sky, began to rob My earnest-gaping-sight of thy Lands view, I took a costly jewel from my neck, A Hart it was bound in with Diamonds, And threw it towards thy Land: The Sea received it, And so I wished thy body might my Heart: And even with this, I lost fair England's view, And bid mine eyes be packing with my Heart, And called them blind and dusky Spectacles, For losing ken of Albion's wished Coast. How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue (The agent of thy foul inconstancy) To sit and watch me as Ascanius did, When he to madding Dido would unfold His Father's Acts, commenced in burning Troy. Am I not witched like her? Or thou not false like him? Ay me, I can no more: die Elinor, For Henry weeps, that thou dost live so long. It is reported, mighty Sovereign, That good Duke Humphrey Traitorously is murdered By Suffolk, and the Cardinal Beauford's means: The Commons like an angry Hive of Bees That want their Leader, scatter up and down, And care not who they sting in his revenge. Myself have calmed their spleenful mutiny, Until they hear the order of his death. That he is dead good Warwick, 'tis too true, But how he died, God knows, not Henry: Enter his Chamber, view his breathless Corpses, And comment then upon his sudden death. That shall I do my Liege; Stay Salisbury With the rude multitude, till I return.
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 1573–1636 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 26 of 49 in this edition
Length
508 words · 685 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T29 — Disguise and pursuit in Look About Youcontext only — excluded from the genre comparison · typicality 0.787 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T34 · seed 44: T31 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Ah woe is me for Gloſter, wretched man. Be woe for me, more wretched then he is. What, Doſt thou turne away, and hide thy face? I am no loathſome Leaper, looke on me. What? Art thou like the Adder waxen deafe? Be poyſonous too, and kill thy forlorne Queene. Is all thy comfort ſhut in Gloſters Tombe? Why then Dame Elianor was neere thy ioy. Erect his Statue, and worſhip it, And make my Image but an Ale-houſe ſigne. Was I for this nye wrack'd vpon the Sea, And twice by aukward winde from Englands banke Droue backe againe vnto my Natiue Clime. What boaded this? but well fore-warning winde Did ſeeme to ſay, ſeeke not a Scorpions Neſt, Nor ſet no footing on this vnkinde Shore. What did I then? But curſt the gentle guſts, And he that loos'd them forth their Brazen Caues, And bid them blow towards Englands bleſſed ſhore, Or turne our Sterne vpon a dreadfull Rocke: Yet Aeolus would not be a murtherer, But left that hatefull office vnto thee. The pretty vaulting Sea refus'd to drowne me, Knowing that thou wouldſt haue me drown'd on ſhore With teares as ſalt as Sea, through thy vnkindneſſe. The ſplitting Rockes cowr'd in the ſinking ſands, And would not daſh me with their ragged ſides, Becauſe thy flinty heart more hard then they, Might in thy Pallace, periſh Elianor. As farre as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffes, When from thy Shore, the Tempeſt beate vs backe, I ſtood vpon the Hatches in the ſtorme: And when the duskie sky, began to rob My earneſt-gaping-ſight of thy Lands view, I tooke a coſtly Iewell from my necke, A Hart it was bound in with Diamonds, And threw it towards thy Land: The Sea receiu'd it, And ſo I wiſh'd thy body might my Heart: And euen with this, I loſt faire Englands view, And bid mine eyes be packing with my Heart, And call'd them blinde and duskie Spectacles, For looſing ken of Albions wiſhed Coaſt. How often haue I tempted Suffolkes tongue (The agent of thy foule inconſtancie) To ſit and watch me as Aſcanius did, When he to madding Dido would vnfold His Fathers Acts, commenc'd in burning Troy. Am I not witcht like her? Or thou not falſe like him? Aye me, I can no more: Dye Elinor, For Henry weepes, that thou doſt liue ſo long. It is reported, mighty Soueraigne, That good Duke Humfrey Traiterouſly is murdred By Suffolke, and the Cardinall Beaufords meanes: The Commons like an angry Hiue of Bees That want their Leader, ſcatter vp and downe, And care not who they ſting in his reuenge. My ſelfe haue calm'd their ſpleenfull mutinie, Vntill they heare the order of his death. That he is dead good Warwick, 'tis too true, But how he dyed, God knowes, not Henry: Enter his Chamber, view his breathleſſe Corpes, And comment then vpon his ſodaine death. That ſhall I do my Liege; Stay Salsburie With the rude multitude, till I returne.