2 Henry the Sixth (The First Part of the Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster) · chunk 32 of 49
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written c.1590 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men (?) unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 517 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
The gaudy blabbing and remorseful day, Is crept into the bosom of the Sea: And now loud howling Wolves arouse the jades That drag the Tragic melancholy night: Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings Cleape dead-men's graves, and from their misty jaws, Breath foul contagious darkness in the air: Therefore bring forth the Soldiers of our prize, For whilst our Pinnace Anchors in the Downs, here shall they make their ransom on the sand, Or with their blood stain this discoloured shore. Master, this Prisoner freely give I thee, And thou that art his Mate, make boot of this: The other Walter Whitmore is thy share. What is my ransom Master, let me know. A thousand Crowns, or else lay down your head And so much shall you give, or oft goes yours. What think you much to pay 2000. Crowns, And bear the name and port of Gentlemen? Cut both the Villains throats, for die you shall: The lives of those which we have lost in fight, Be counter-poysed with such a petty sum. I'll give it sir, and therefore spare my life. And so will I, and writ home for it strait. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore to revenge it, shalt thou dye, And so should these, if I might have my will. Be not so rash, take ransom, let him live. Look on my George, I am a Gentleman, Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. And so am I: my name is Walter Whitmore. How now? why starts thou? What doth death affright? Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death: A cunning man did calculate my birth, And told me that by Water I should dye: Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded, Thy name is Gaultier, being rightly sounded. Gaultier or Walter, which it is I care not, Never yet did base dishonour blur our name, But with our sword we wiped away the blot. Therefore, when Merchantlike I sell revenge, Broke be my sword, my Arms torn and defaced, And I proclaimed a Coward through the world. Stay Whitmore, for thy Prisoner is a Prince, The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. The Duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags? I, but these rags are no part of the Duke. But Ioue was never slain as thou shalt be, Obscure and lousy Swain, King Henry's blood. The honourable blood of Lancaster Must not be shed by such a jaded Groom: Hast thou not kissed thy hand, and held my stirrup? Bareheaded plodded by my foot-cloth Mule, And thought thee happy when I shook my head. How often hast thou waited at my cup, Fed from my Trencher, kneeled down at the board, When I have feasted with Queen Margaret? Remember it, and let it make thee Crest-fallen, I, and allay this thy abortive Pride: How in our voiding Lobby haste thou stood, And duly waited for my coming forth? This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf, And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue.
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)
The gaudy blabbing and remorſefull day, Is crept into the boſome of the Sea: And now loud houling Wolues arouſe the Iades That dragge the Tragicke melancholy night: Who with their drowſie, ſlow, and flagging wings Cleape dead-mens graues, and from their miſty Iawes, Breath foule contagious darkneſſe in the ayre: Therefore bring forth the Souldiers of our prize, For whilſt our Pinnace Anchors in the Downes, Heere ſhall they make their ranſome on the ſand, Or with their blood ſtaine this diſcoloured ſhore. Maiſter, this Priſoner freely giue I thee, And thou that art his Mate, make boote of this: The other Walter Whitmore is thy ſhare. What is my ranſome Maſter, let me know. A thouſand Crownes, or elſe lay down your head And ſo much ſhall you giue, or oft goes yours. What thinke you much to pay 2000. Crownes, And beare the name and port of Gentlemen? Cut both the Villaines throats, for dy you ſhall: The liues of thoſe which we haue loſt in fight, Be counter-poys'd with ſuch a pettie ſumme. Ile giue it ſir, and therefore ſpare my life. And ſo will I, and write home for it ſtraight. I loſt mine eye in laying the prize aboord, And therefore to reuenge it, ſhalt thou dye, And ſo ſhould theſe, if I might haue my will. Be not ſo raſh, take ranſome, let him liue. Looke on my George, I am a Gentleman, Rate me at what thou wilt, thou ſhalt be payed. And ſo am I: my name is Walter Whitmore. How now? why ſtarts thou? What doth death affright? Thy name affrights me, in whoſe ſound is death: A cunning man did calculate my birth, And told me that by Water I ſhould dye: Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded, Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly ſounded. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not, Neuer yet did baſe diſhonour blurre our name, But with our ſword we wip'd away the blot. Therefore, when Merchant-like I ſell reuenge, Broke be my ſword, my Armes torne and defac'd, And I proclaim'd a Coward through the world. Stay Whitmore, for thy Priſoner is a Prince, The Duke of Suffolke, William de la Pole. The Duke of Suffolke, muffled vp in ragges? I, but theſe ragges are no part of the Duke. But Ioue was neuer ſlaine as thou ſhalt be, Obſcure and lowſie Swaine, King Henries blood. The honourable blood of Lancaſter Muſt not be ſhed by ſuch a iaded Groome: Haſt thou not kiſt thy hand, and held my ſtirrop? Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth Mule, And thought thee happy when I ſhooke my head. How often haſt thou waited at my cup, Fed from my Trencher, kneel'd downe at the boord, When I haue feaſted with Queene Margaret? Remember it, and let it make thee Creſt-falne, I, and alay this thy abortiue Pride: How in our voyding Lobby haſt thou ſtood, And duly wayted for my comming forth? This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalfe, And therefore ſhall it charme thy riotous tongue.