3 Henry the Sixth (The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York and the Good King Henry the Sixth) · chunk 30 of 34
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1595 · first performed or written c.1591 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 475 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
'tis even so, and yet you are old Warwick still. O cheerful colours, see where Oxford comes. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster. Exit. The Gates are open, see they enter in, Let's follow them and bid them battle in the streets. No, so some other might set upon our backs, we'll stay till all be entered, and then follow them. Summerset, Summerset for Lancaster. Two of thy name both Dukes of Summerset, Have sold their lives unto the house of York, And thou shalt be the third and my sword hold. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster. Exit. Traitorous Montague, thou and thy brother Shall dearly abye this rebellious act. And lo where George of Clarence sweeps Along, of power enough to bid his brother battle. Clarence, Clarence, for Lancaster. Et tu Brute, wilt thou stab Caesar too? A parley sirrah to George of Clarence. C●m Clarence come, thou wilt if Warwick call. Father of Warwick, know you what this means▪ throw mine infamy at thee, I will not ruinated my father's house, Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, And set up Lancaster. Thinkest thou That Clarence is so harsh unnatural, To lift his sword against his brother's life, And so proud hearted Warwick I defy thee, And to my brothers turn my blushing cheeks? Pardon me Edward, for I have done amiss, And Richard do not frown upon me, For hence forth I will prove no more unconstant. Welcome Clarence, and ten times more welcome, Then if thou never hadst deserved out hate. Welcome good Clarence, this is bretherlie. Oh passing traitor, perjured and unjust. Now Warwick, wilt thou leave The town and fight? or shall we beat the Stones about thine ears? Why I am not cooped up here for defence, I will away to Barnet presently, And bid thee battle Edward it thou darest. Yes Warwick he dares, and leads the way, Lords to the field, saint George and victory. Alarms, and then enter Warwick wounded. Ah, who is ●? Come to my friend or foe, And tell me who is victor York or Warwick? Why ask I that? my ma glad body shows, That I must yield my body to the earth. And by my fall the conquest to my foes, Thus yields the Cedar to the axes edge. Whose arms give shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose 〈◊〉 add the ramping Lion slept, Whose top branch overpeerd Ioues sreading tree. The wrinkles in my brows now filled with blood, Were likened oft to kingly sepulchres. For who lived king, but I could dig his grave? And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow? Lo now my glory smeerd in dust and blood, My parks my walks, my manors that I had, Even now forsake me and of all my lands, Is nothing left me but my body's length.
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)
Tis euen ſo, and yet you are olde Warwike ſtill. O cheerefull colours, ſee where Oxford comes. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaſter. Exit. The Gates are open, ſee they enter in, Lets follow them and bid them battaile in the ſtreetes. No, ſo ſome other might ſet vpon our backes, Weele ſtaie till all be entered, and then follow them. Summerſet, Summerſet for Lancaſter. Two of thy name both Dukes of Summerſet, Haue ſolde their liues vnto the houſe of Yorke, And thou ſhalt be the third and my ſword hold. Montague, Montague, for Lancaſter. Exit. Traitorous Montague, thou and thy brother Shall deerelie abie this rebellious act. And loe where George of Clarence ſweepes Along, of power enough to bid his brother battell. Clarence, Clarence, for Lancaſter. Et tu Brute, wilt thou ſtab Caeſar too? A parlie ſirra to George of Clarence. Cm Clarence come, thou wilt if Warwike call. Father of Warwike, know you what this meanes▪ throw mine infamie at thee, I will not ruinate my fathers houſe, Who gaue his bloud to lime the ſtones togither, And ſet vp Lancaſter. Thinkeſt thou That Clarence is ſo harſh vnnaturall, To lift his ſword againſt his brothers life, And ſo proud harted Warwike I defie thee, And to my brothers turne my bluſhing cheekes? Pardon me Edward, for I hae doe amiſſe, And Richard doe not frowne vpon me, For hence forth I wil proue no mre vnconſtant. Welcome Clarence, and tn times more welcome, Then if thou neuer hadſt deſerud out hate. Welcome good Clarence, this is bretherlie. Oh paſſing traytor, peiurd and vniuſt. Now Warwike, wilt thou leae The towne and fight? or ſhall we beate the Stones about thine eares? Why I am not coopt vppe heere for defence, I will awaie to Baret preſently, And bid thee battaile Edward it thou dareſt. Yes Warwike he dares, and leades the waie, Lords to the field, ſaint George and victorie. Alarmes, and ten enter Warwike wounded. Ah, who is ? Come to m friend or foe, And tell me who is victor Yrke or Warwike? Why aske I that? my ma gld bodie ſhewes, That I muſt yeeld my bodie to the earth. And by my fall the conqueſt to my foes, Thus yeelds the Cedar to the ax edge. Whoſe armes gue ſhltr to the princelie Eagl, Vnder whoſe ad the rampng ion ſlept, Whoſe top branch ouerpeerd Ioues ſreading tree. The wrinkles in my browes now ild with bloud, Were likened oft to inglie ſepulchers. For who liu'd king, but I could ig his graue? And who durſt ſmile, when Warwike bent his brow? Lo now my gloe ſmeerd in duſt and bloud, My parkes my wales, my mannors that I had, Euen now forſake me and of all my lands, Is nothing left me but my bodies length.