3 Henry the Sixth (The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York and the Good King Henry the Sixth) · chunk 14 of 34
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1595 · first performed or written c.1591 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea typicality 0.79 · 459 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Have done with words great Lords, and Hear me speak. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. I prithee give no limits to my tongue, I am a king and privilege to speak. My Lord the wound that bred this meeting here Cannot be crued with words, therefore be still. Then executioner unsheath thy sword, By him that made us all I am resolved, That Clifford's manhood hangs upon his tongue. What sayst thou Henry, shall I have my right or no? A thousand men have broke their fast to day, That near shall dine, unless thou yield the crown. If thou deny their bloods be on thy head, For York in justice puts his armour on. If all be right that Warwick says is right, There is no wrong but all things must be right. Whosoever got thee, there thy mother stands, For well I wots thou hast thy mother's tongue. But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam, But like a soul misshapen stygmaticke Marked by the destinies to be avoided, As venom Toads, or Lizards fainting looks. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Thy father bears the title of a king. As if a channel should be called the Sea; Shames thou not, knowing from whence thou art derived, to parley thus with England's lawful heirs? A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns, To make that shameless callet know herself, Thy husband's father reveld in the heart of France, And tamed the French, and made the Doiphin stoop: And had he matched according to his state, He might have kept that glory till this day. But when he took a beggar to his bed, And graced thy poor sire with his bridal day, Then that sunshine bred a shower for him Which washed his father's fortunes out of France, And heaped seditions on his crown at home. For what hath moved these tumults but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title yet had slept? And we in pity of the gentle king, Had slipped our claim until an other age. But when we saw our summer brought the gain, And that the harvest brought us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root, And though the edge have something hit ourselves, Yet know thou we will never cease to strike, Till we have hewn thee down, Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods. And in this resolution, I defy thee, Not willing any longer conference, Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak. Sound trumpet's, let our bloody colours wave, And either victory or else a grave, Stay Edward stay. Hence wrangling woman, I'll no longer stay, Thy words will cost ten thousand lives to day.
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William
Publication year (edition)
1595
First performance / composition (Annals)
c.1591
First performance (BritDrama)
1591 [1587-1592]
Company (BritDrama)
Pembroke's Men
Genre (British Drama)
history
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 265 · TCP A10726 · DEEP 212
Edition role
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 780–836 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 14 of 34 in this edition
Length
459 words · 583 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T10 — England and France: war, embassy and peacecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.792 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
Haue doone with wordes great Lordes, and Hear me ſpeake. Defie them then, or elſe hold cloſe thy lips. I prethe giue no limits to my tongue, I am a king and priuiledge to ſpeake. My Lord the wound that bred this meeting here Cannot be cru'd with words, therefore be ſtill. Then executioner vnsheath thy ſword, By him that made vs all I am reſolu'de, That Cliffords manhood hangs vpon his tongue. What ſaiſt thou Henry, ſhall I hue my right or no? A thouſand men haue broke their faſt to daie, That nere ſhall dine, vnleſſe thou yeeld the crowne. If thou denie their blouds be on thy head, For Yorke in iuſtice puts his armour on. If all be right that Warwike ſaies is right, There is no wrong but all things muſt be right. Whoſoeuer got thee, there thy mother ſtands, For well I wot thou haſt thy mothers tongue. But thou art neither like thy ſire nor dam, But like a ſoule miſhapen ſtygmaticke Markt by the deſtinies to be auoided, As venome Todes, or Lizards fainting lookes. Iron of Naples, hid with Engliſh gilt, Thy father beares the ttle of a king. As if a channell ſhould be calde the Sea; Shames thou not, knowing from whence thou art deRiu'de, to parlie thus with Englands lawfull heires? A wiſpe of ſtraw were worth a thouſand crowns, To make that ſhameleſſe cllet know her ſelfe, Thy husbands father reueld in the hart of France, And tam'de the French, and made the Doiphin ſtoope: And had he macht according to his ſtate, He might haue kept that glorie till this daie. But when he tooke a begger to his bed, And gracſt thy poore ſire with his bridall daie, Then that ſun-ſhine bred a ſhowre for him Which waſht his fathers fortunes out of France, And heapt ſeditions on his crowne at home. For what hath mou'd theſe tumults but thy pride? Hadſt thou beene meeke, our title yet had ſlept? And we in pittie of the gentle king, Had ſlipt our claime vntill an other age. But when we ſaw our ſummer brought the gaine, And that the harueſt brought vs no increaſe, We ſet the axe to thy vſurping root, And though the edge haue ſomething hit our ſelues, Yet know thou we will neuer ceaſe to ſtrike, Till we haue hewne thee downe, Or bath'd thy growing with our heated blouds. And in this reſolution, I defie thee, Not willing anie longer conference, Since thou denieſt the gentle king to ſpeake. Sound trumpets, let our bloudie colours waue, And either victorie or elſe a graue, Staie Edward ſtaie. Hence wrangling woman, Ile no longer ſtaie, Thy words will coſt ten thouſand liues to daie.