Marlowe, Christopher · published 1594 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1593] (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Oh my sweet heart, how do I moan thy wrongs? Yet triumph in the hope of thee my joy, Ah sweet sir Iohn, even to the utmost verge Of Europe, or the shore of Tanais, Will we with thee to Henolt, so we will, The marquess is a noble Gentleman, His grace I dare presume will welcome me, But who are these? Madam, long may you live, Much happier than your friends in England do. Lord Edmund and lord Mortimer alive, Welcome to France: the news was here my lord, That you were dead, or very near your death. Lady, the last was truest of the twain, But Mortimer reserved for better hap, Hath shaken off the thraldom of the tower, And lives t'advance your standard good my lord. How mean you, and the king my father lives? No my lord Mortimer, not I, I trow. Not son, why not? I would it were no worse, But gentle lords, friendless we are in France. monsieur le Grand, a noble friend of yours, Told us at our arrival all the news, How hard the nobles, how unkind the king Hath showed himself: but madam, right makes room, Where weapons want, and though a many friends Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster, And others of our party and faction, Yet have we friends, assure your grace in England, Would cast up caps, and clap their hands for joy, To see us there appointed for our foes. Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimed, For England's honour, peace, and quietness. But by the sword, my lord, it must be deserved. The king will near forsake his flatterers. My Lords of England, sith the ungentle king Of France refuseth to give aid of arms, To this distressed Queen his sister here, Go you with her to Henolt, doubt ye not, We will find comfort, money, men, and friends Ere long, to bid the English king a base, How say young Prince, what think you of the match? I think king Edward will out run us all. Nay son, not so, and you must not discourage Your friends that are so forward in your aid. Sir Iohn of Henolt, pardon us I pray, These comforts that you give our woeful queen, Bind us in kindness all at your command. Yea gentle brother, and the God of heaven, Prosper your happy motion good sir Iohn. This noble gentleman forward in arms, Was borne I see to be our anchor hold, Sir Iohn of Henolt, be it thy renown, That England's Queen, and nobles in distress, Have been by thee restored and comforted. Madam along, and you my lord with me, That England's peers may Henolt's welcome see. Thus after many threats of wrathful war, Triumpheth England's Edward with his friends, And triumph Edward with his friends uncontrolled, My lord of Gloster, do you hear the news? What news my lord? Why man, they say there is great execution Done through the realm, my lord of Arundel You have the note, have you not?
seed 43: T8 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Oh my sweet hart, how do I mone thy wrongs? Yet triumphe in the hope of thee my ioye, Ah sweete sir Iohn, euen to the vtmost verge Of Europe, or the shore of Tanaise, Will we with thee to Henolt, so we will, The Marques is a noble Gentleman, His grace I dare presume will welcome me, But who are these? Madam, long may you liue, Much happier then your friends in England do. Lord Edmund and lord Mortimer aliue, Welcome to Fraunce: the newes was heere my lord, That you were dead, or very neare your death. Lady, the last was truest of the twaine, But Mortimer reserude for better hap, Hath shaken off the thraldome of the tower, And liues t'aduance your standard good my lord. How meane you, and the king my father liues? No my lord Mortimer, not I, I trow. Not sonne, why not? I would it were no worse, But gentle lords, friendles we are in Fraunce. Mounsier le Grand, a noble friend of yours, Tould vs at our arriuall all the newes, How hard the nobles, how vnkinde the king Hath shewed himself: but madam, right makes roome, Where weapons want, and though a many friends Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster, And others of our partie and faction, Yet haue we friends, assure your grace in England, Would cast vp cappes, and clap their hands for ioy, To see vs there appointed for our foes. Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimd, For Englands honor, peace, and quietnes. But by the sword, my lord, it must be deseru'd. The king will nere forsake his flatterers. My Lords of England, sith the vngentle king Of Fraunce refuseth to giue aide of armes, To this distressed Queene his sister heere, Go you with her to Henolt, doubt yee not, We will finde comfort, money, men, and friends Ere long, to bid the English king a base, How say yong Prince, what thinke you of the match? I thinke king Edward will out run vs all. Nay soune, not so, and you must not discourage Your friends that are so forward in your aide. Sir Iohn of Henolt, pardon vs I pray, These comforts that you giue our wofull queene, Binde vs in kindenes all at your commaund. Yea gentle brother, and the God of heauen, Prosper your happie motion good sir Iohn. This noble gentleman forward in armes, Was borne I see to be our anchor hold, Sir Iohn of Henolt, be it thy renowne, That Englands Queene, and nobles in distresse, Haue beene by thee restored and comforted. Madam along, and you my lord with me, That Englands peeres may Henolts welcome see. Thus after many threats of wrathfull warre, Triumpheth Englands Edward with his friends, And triumph Edward with his friends vncontrould, My lord of Gloster, do you heare the newes? What newes my lord? Why man, they say there is great execution Done through the realme, my lord of Arundell You haue the note, haue you not?