3 Henry the Sixth (The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York and the Good King Henry the Sixth) · chunk 22 of 47
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written c.1591 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an · 510 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
here comes a man, let's stay till he be past: From Scotland am I stolen even of pure love, To greet mine own Land with my wishful sight: No Harry, Harry, 'tis no Land of thine, Thy place is filled, thy Sceptre wrung from thee, Thy Balm washed off, wherewith thou was Anointed: No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, No humble suitors press to speak for right: No, not a man comes for redress of thee: For how can I help them, and not myself? I, here's a Deer, whose skin's a Keeper's Fee: This is the quondam King; Let's seize upon him. Let me embrace the sour Adversaries, For Wise men say, it is the wisest course. Why linger we? Let us lay hands upon him. Forbear awhile, we'll hear a little more. My Queen and Son are gone to France for aid: And (as I hear) the great Commanding Warwick I: thither gone, to crave the French Kings Sister To wife for Edward. If this news be true, Poor Queen, and Son, your labour is but lost: For Warwick is a subtle Orator: And Lewis a Prince soon won with moving words: By this account then, Margaret may win him, For she's a woman to be pitied much: Her sighs will make a battery in his breast, Her tears will pierce into a Marble heart: The Tiger will be mild, whiles she doth mourn; And Nero will be tainted with remorse, To hear and see her plaints, her Brinish Tears. I, but she's come to beg, Warwick to give: She on his left side, craving aid for Henry; He on his right, ask a wife for Edward. She Weeps, and says, her Henry is deposed: He Smiles, and says, his Edward is instauled; That she (poor Wretch) for grief can speak no more: Whiles Warwick tells his Title, smooths the Wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, And in conclusion wins the King from her, With promise of his Sister, and what else, To strengthen and support King Edward's place. O Margaret, thus 'twill be, and thou (poor soul) Art then forsaken, as thou wentest forlorn. Say, what art thou talk'st of Kings & Queens? More than I seem, and less than I was born to: A man at least, for less I should not be: And men may talk of Kings, and why not I? I, but thou talk'st, as if thou were't a King. Why so I am (in Mind) and that's enough. But if thou be a King, where is thy Crown? My Crown is in my heart, not on my head: Not decked with Diamonds, and Indian stones: Nor to be seen: my Crown, is called Content, A Crown it is, that seldom Kings enjoy. Well, if you be a King crowned with Content, Your Crown Content, and you, must be contented To go along with us. For (as we think) You are the king King Edward hath deposed: And we his subjects, sworn in all Allegiance, Will apprehend you, as his Enemy.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T50 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Heere comes a man, let's ſtay till he be paſt: From Scotland am I ſtolne euen of pure loue, To greet mine owne Land with my wiſhfull ſight: No Harry, Harry, 'tis no Land of thine, Thy place is fill'd, thy Scepter wrung from thee, Thy Balme waſht off, wherewith thou was Annointed: No bending knee will call thee Caeſar now, No humble ſuters preaſe to ſpeake for right: No, not a man comes for redreſſe of thee: For how can I helpe them, and not my ſelfe? I, heere's a Deere, whoſe skin's a Keepers Fee: This is the quondam King; Let's ſeize vpon him. Let me embrace the ſower Aduerſaries, For Wiſe men ſay, it is the wiſeſt courſe. Why linger we? Let vs lay hands vpon him. Forbeare a-while, wee'l heare a little more. My Queene and Son are gone to France for aid: And (as I heare) the great Commanding Warwicke I: thither gone, to craue the French Kings Siſter To wife for Edward. If this newes be true, Poore Queene, and Sonne, your labour is but loſt: For Warwicke is a ſubtle Orator: And Lewis a Prince ſoone wonne with mouing words: By this account then, Margaret may winne him, For ſhe's a woman to be pittied much: Her ſighes will make a batt'ry in his breſt, Her teares will pierce into a Marble heart: The Tyger will be milde, whiles ſhe doth mourne; And Nero will be tainted with remorſe, To heare and ſee her plaints, her Briniſh Teares. I, but ſhee's come to begge, Warwicke to giue: Shee on his left ſide, crauing ayde for Henrie; He on his right, asking a wife for Edward. Shee Weepes, and ſayes, her Henry is depos'd: He Smiles, and ſayes, his Edward is inſtaul'd; That ſhe (poore Wretch) for greefe can ſpeake no more: Whiles Warwicke tels his Title, ſmooths the Wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty ſtrength, And in concluſion winnes the King from her, With promiſe of his Siſter, and what elſe, To ſtrengthen and ſupport King Edwards place. O Margaret, thus 'twill be, and thou (poore ſoule) Art then forſaken, as thou went'ſt forlorne. Say, what art thou talk'ſt of Kings & Queens? More then I ſeeme, and leſſe then I was born to: A man at leaſt, for leſſe I ſhould not be: And men may talke of Kings, and why not I? I, but thou talk'ſt, as if thou wer't a King. Why ſo I am (in Minde) and that's enough. But if thou be a King, where is thy Crowne? My Crowne is in my heart, not on my head: Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian ſtones: Nor to be ſeene: my Crowne, is call'd Content, A Crowne it is, that ſildome Kings enioy. Well, if you be a King crown'd with Content, Your Crowne Content, and you, muſt be contented To go along with vs. For (as we thinke) You are the king King Edward hath depos'd: And we his ſubiects, ſworne in all Allegeance, Will apprehend you, as his Enemie.