3 Henry the Sixth (The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York and the Good King Henry the Sixth) · chunk 19 of 47
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written c.1591 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 509 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
O piteous spectacle! O bloody Times! Whiles Lion's War, and battle for their Dens, Poor harmless Lambs abide their enmity. Weep wretched man: I'll aid thee Tear for Tear, And let our hearts and eyes, like Civil War, Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharged with grief Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me, Give me thy Gold, if thou hast any Gold: For I have bought it with an hundred blows. But let me see: Is this our Foeman's face? Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only Son. Ah Boy, if any life be left in thee, Throw up thine eye: see, see, what showers arise, Blown with the windy Tempest of my heart, Upon thy wounds, that kills mine Eye, and Heart, O pity God, this miserable Age! What Stratagems? how fell? how Butcherly? Erreoneous, mutinous, and unnatural, This deadly quarrel daily doth beget? O Boy! thy Father gave thee life too soon, And hath bereft thee of thy life too late. woe above woe: grief, more than common grief O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds: O pity, pity, gentle heaven pity: The Red Rose and the White are on his face, The fatal Colours of our striving Houses: The one, his purple Blood right well resembles, The other his pale Cheeks (me thinks) presenteth: Whither one Rose, and let the other flourish: If you contend, a thousand lives must whither. How will my Mother, for a Father's death Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied? How will my Wife, for slaughter of my Son, Shed seas of Tears, and ne'er be satisfied? How will the Country, for these woeful chances, Mis-thinke the King, and not be satisfied? Was ever son, so rued a Father's death? Was ever Father so bemoaned his Son? Was ever King so grieved for Subject's woe? Much is your sorrow; Mine, ten times so much. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill. These arms of mine shall be thy winding sheet: My heart (sweet Boy) shall be thy Sepulchre, For from my heart, thine Image ne'er shall go. My sighing breast, shall be thy Funeral bell; And so obsequious will thy Father be, Men for the loss of thee, having no more, As Priam was for all his Valiant Sons, I'll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will, For I have murdered where I should not kill. Sad-hearted-men, much overgone with Care; here sits a King, more woeful than you are. Fly Father, fly: for all your Friends are fled. And Warwick rages like a chafed Bull: Away, for death doth hold us in pursuit. Mount you my Lord, towards Berwick post amain: Edward and Richard like a brace of Greyhounds, Having the fearful flying Hare in sight, With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steel grasped in their ireful hands Are at our backs, and therefore hence amain. Away: for vengeance comes along with them. Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed, Or else come after, I'll away before.
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)
O pitteous ſpectacle! O bloody Times! Whiles Lyons Warre, and battaile for their Dennes, Poore harmleſſe Lambes abide their enmity. Weepe wretched man: Ile ayde thee Teare for Teare, And let our hearts and eyes, like Ciuill Warre, Be blinde with teares, and break ore-charg'd with griefe Thou that ſo ſtoutly hath reſiſted me, Giue me thy Gold, if thou haſt any Gold: For I haue bought it with an hundred blowes. But let me ſee: Is this our Foe-mans face? Ah, no, no, no, it is mine onely Sonne. Ah Boy, if any life be left in thee, Throw vp thine eye: ſee, ſee, what ſhowres ariſe, Blowne with the windie Tempeſt of my heart, Vpon thy wounds, that killes mine Eye, and Heart, O pitty God, this miſerable Age! What Stragems? how fell? how Butcherly? Erreoneous, mutinous, and vnnaturall, This deadly quarrell daily doth beget? O Boy! thy Father gaue thee life too ſoone, And hath bereft thee of thy life too late. Wo aboue wo: greefe, more thē common greefe O that my death would ſtay theſe ruthfull deeds: O pitty, pitty, gentle heauen pitty: The Red Roſe and the White are on his face, The fatall Colours of our ſtriuing Houſes: The one, his purple Blood right well reſembles, The other his pale Cheekes (me thinkes) preſenteth: Wither one Roſe, and let the other flouriſh: If you contend, a thouſand liues muſt wither. How will my Mother, for a Fathers death Take on with me, and ne're be ſatisfi'd? How will my Wife, for ſlaughter of my Sonne, Shed ſeas of Teares, and ne're be ſatisfi'd? How will the Country, for theſe woful chances, Miſ-thinke the King, and not be ſatisfied? Was euer ſonne, ſo rew'd a Fathers death? Was euer Father ſo bemoan'd his Sonne? Was euer King ſo greeu'd for Subiects woe? Much is your ſorrow; Mine, ten times ſo much. Ile beare thee hence, where I may weepe my fill. Theſe armes of mine ſhall be thy winding ſheet: My heart (ſweet Boy) ſhall be thy Sepulcher, For from my heart, thine Image ne're ſhall go. My ſighing breſt, ſhall be thy Funerall bell; And ſo obſequious will thy Father be, Men for the loſſe of thee, hauing no more, As Priam was for all his Valiant Sonnes, Ile beare thee hence, and let them fight that will, For I haue murthered where I ſhould not kill. Sad-hearted-men, much ouergone with Care; Heere ſits a King, more wofull then you are. Fly Father, flye: for all your Friends are fled. And Warwicke rages like a chafed Bull: Away, for death doth hold vs in purſuite. Mount you my Lord, towards Barwicke poſt amaine: Edward and Richard like a brace of Grey-hounds, Hauing the fearfull flying Hare in ſight, With fiery eyes, ſparkling for very wrath, And bloody ſteele graſpt in their yrefull hands Are at our backes, and therefore hence amaine. Away: for vengeance comes along with them. Nay, ſtay not to expoſtulate, make ſpeed, Or elſe come after, Ile away before.