3 Henry the Sixth (The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York and the Good King Henry the Sixth) · chunk 12 of 34
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1595 · first performed or written c.1591 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an · 466 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me, The Queen is coming with a puissant power, And craves your company for speedy council. Why then it sorts brave Lords. Let's march away. Welcome my Lord to this brave town of York, Yonder's the head of that ambitious enemy, That sought to be impaled with your crown. Doth not the object please your eye my Lord? Even as the rocks please them that fear their wrack. Withhold revenge dear God 'tis not my fault, Nor wittingly have I infringde my vow. My gracious Lord, this too much lenity, And harmful pity must be laid aside, To whom do Lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp his den. Whose hand is that the savage Bear doth lick? Not his that spoils his young before his face. Whose scapes the lurking serpents mortal sting? Not he that sets his foot upon her back. The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, And Doves will peck, in rescue of their brood. Ambitious York did level at thy Crown, Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows. He but a Duke, would have his son a king, And raise his issue like a loving sire. Thou being a king blessed with a goodly son, Didst give consent to disinherit him, Which argude thee a most unnatural father. Unreasonable creatures feed their young. And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, Yet in protect on of their tender ones, Who hath not seen them even with those same wings Which they have sometime used in fearful flight, Make war with him, that climbs unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their yongs defence? For shame my Lord, make them your precedent, Were it not pity that this goodly boy, should lose his birth right through his father's fault? And long hereafter say unto his child, What my great grandfather and grandsire got, My careless father fondly gave away? Look on the boy and let his manly face, Which promiseth successful fortune to us all, Steel thy melting thoughts, To keep thine own, and leave thine own with him. Full well hath Clifford played the Orator, Inferring, arguments of mighty force. But tell me, didst thou never yet hear tell. That things evil got had ever bad success, And happy ever was it for that son, Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? I leave my son my virtuous deeds behind, And would my father had left me no more, For all the rest is held at such a rate, As asks a thousand times more care to keep, Then may the present profit countervail. Ah cozen York, would thy best friends did know, How it doth grieve me that thy head stands there.
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 Duke of Norffolke ſends you word by me, The Queene is comming with a puiſſant power, And craues your companie for ſpeedie councell. Why then it ſorts braue Lordes. Lets march away. Welcome my Lord to this braue town of York, Yonders the head of that ambitious enemie, That ſought to be impaled with your crowne. Doth not the obiect pleaſe your eie my Lord? Euen as the rockes pleaſe them that feare their wracke. Withhold reuenge deare God tis not my fault, Nor wittinglie haue I infringde my vow. My gratious Lord, this too much lenitie, And harmefull pittie muſt be laid aſide, To whom do Lyons caſt their gentle lookes? Not to the beaſt that would vſurpe his den. Whoſe hand is that the ſauage Beare doth licke? Not his that ſpoiles his young before his face. Whoſe aps the lurking ſerpentes mortall ſting? Not he that ſets his foot vpon her backe. The ſmalleſt worme will turne being troden on, And Doues will pecke, in reſcue of their broode. Ambitious Yorke did leuell at thy Crowne, Thou ſmiling, while he knit his angrie browes. He but a Duke, would haue his ſonne a king, And raiſe his iſſue like a louing ſire. Thou being a king bleſt with a goodlie ſonne, Didſt giue conſent to diſinherit him, Which argude thee a moſt vnnaturall father. Vnreaſonable creatures feed their yong. And though mans face be fearefull to their eies, Yet in protect on of their tender ones, Who hath not ſeene them euen with thoſe ſame wings Which they haue ſometime vſde in fearefull flight, Make warre with him, that climes vnto their neſt, Offring their owne liues in their yongs defence? For ſhame my Lord, make them your preſident, Were it not pittie that this goodlie boy, ſhould loſe his birth right through his fathers fault? And long hereafter ſaie vnto his child, What my great grandfather and grandfire got, My careleſſe father fondlie gaue awaie? Looke on the boy and let his manlie face, Which promiſeth ſucceſſefull fortune to vs all, Steele thy melting thoughtes, To keepe thine owne, and leaue thine owne with him. Full wel hath Clifford plaid the Orator, Inferring, arguments of mighty force. But tell me, didſt thou neuer yet heare tell. That things euill got had euer bad ſucceſſe, And happie euer was it for that ſonne, Whoſe father for his hoording went to hell? I leaue my ſonne my vertuous deedes behind, And would my father had left me no more, For all the reſt is held at ſuch a rate, As askes a thouſand times more care to keepe, Then maie the preſent profit counteruaile. Ah coſen Yorke, would thy beſt friendes did know, How it doth greeue me that thy head ſtands there.