3 Henry the Sixth (The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York and the Good King Henry the Sixth) · chunk 24 of 47
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written c.1591 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men T45 Widows, wooing and remarriage typicality 0.89 · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T45: widow, widows, hoord, master, gentlemen, wife, randalls, wit, mistress, married.
Lords give us leave, I'll try this Widows wit. I, good leave have you, for you will have leave, Till Youth take leave, and leave you to the Crutch. Now tell me, Madame, do you love your Children? I, full as dearly as I love myself. And would you not do much to do them good? To do them good, I would sustain some harm. Then get your Husband's Lands, to do them good. Therefore I came unto your Majesty. I'll tell you how these Lands are to be got. So shall you bind me to your Highness' service. What service wilt thou do me, if I give them? What you command, that rests in me to do. But you will take exceptions to my Boon. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot do it. I, but thou canst do what I mean to ask. Why then I will do what your Grace commands. He plies her hard, and much Rain wears the Marble. As red as fire? nay then, her Wax must melt. Why stops my Lord? shall I not hear my Task? An easy Task, 'tis but to love a King. That's soon performed, because I am a Subject. Why then, thy Husband's Lands I freely give thee. I take my leave with many thousand thankes. The Match is made, she seals it with a Curtsy. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean. The fruits of Love, I mean, my loving Liege. I, but I fear me in another sense. What Love, thinkest thou, I sue so much to get? My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers, That love which Virtue begs, and Virtue grants. No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. Why then you mean not, as I thought you did. But now you partly may perceive my mind. My mind will never grant what I perceive Your Highness aims at, if I aim aright. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in Prison. Why then thou shalt not have thy Husband's Lands. Why then mine Honesty shall be my Dower, For by that loss, I will not purchase them. Therein thou wrong'st thy Children mightily. Herein your Highness wrongs both them & me: But mighty Lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the sadness of my suit: Please you dismiss me, either with I, or no. I, if thou wilt say I to my request: No, if thou dost say No to my demand. Than No, my Lord: my suit is at an end. The Widow likes him not, she knits her Brows. He is the bluntest Wooer in Christendom. Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modesty, Her Words doth show her Wit incomparable, All her perfections challenge Sovereignty, One way, or other, she is for a King, And she shall be my Love, or else my Queen. Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queen?
seed 43: T40 · seed 44: T40 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Lords giue vs leaue, Ile trye this Widowes wit. I, good leaue haue you, for you will haue leaue, Till Youth take leaue, and leaue you to the Crutch. Now tell me, Madame, doe you loue your Children? I, full as dearely as I loue my ſelfe. And would you not doe much to doe them good? To doe them good, I would ſuſtayne ſome harme. Then get your Husbands Lands, to doe them good. Therefore I came vnto your Maieſtie. Ile tell you how theſe Lands are to be got. So ſhall you bind me to your Highneſſe ſeruice. What ſeruice wilt thou doe me, if I giue them? What you command, that reſts in me to doe. But you will take exceptions to my Boone. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot doe it. I, but thou canſt doe what I meane to aske. Why then I will doe what your Grace commands. Hee plyes her hard, and much Raine weares the Marble. As red as fire? nay then, her Wax muſt melt. Why ſtoppes my Lord? ſhall I not heare my Taske? An eaſie Taske, 'tis but to loue a King. That's ſoone perform'd, becauſe I am a Subiect. Why then, thy Husbands Lands I freely giue thee. I take my leaue with many thouſand thankes. The Match is made, ſhee ſeales it with a Curſie. But ſtay thee, 'tis the fruits of loue I meane. The fruits of Loue, I meane, my louing Liege. I, but I feare me in another ſence. What Loue, think'ſt thou, I ſue ſo much to get? My loue till death, my humble thanks, my prayers, That loue which Vertue begges, and Vertue graunts. No, by my troth, I did not meane ſuch loue. Why then you meane not, as I thought you did. But now you partly may perceiue my minde. My minde will neuer graunt what I perceiue Your Highneſſe aymes at, if I ayme aright. To tell thee plaine, I ayme to lye with thee. To tell you plaine, I had rather lye in Priſon. Why then thou ſhalt not haue thy Husbands Lands. Why then mine Honeſtie ſhall be my Dower, For by that loſſe, I will not purchaſe them. Therein thou wrong'ſt thy Children mightily. Herein your Highneſſe wrongs both them & me: But mightie Lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the ſadneſſe of my ſuit: Pleaſe you diſmiſſe me, eyther with I, or no. I, if thou wilt ſay I to my requeſt: No, if thou do'ſt ſay No to my demand. Then No, my Lord: my ſuit is at an end. The Widow likes him not, ſhee knits her Browes. Hee is the blunteſt Wooer in Chriſtendome. Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modeſty, Her Words doth ſhew her Wit incomparable, All her perfections challenge Soueraigntie, One way, or other, ſhee is for a King, And ſhee ſhall be my Loue, or elſe my Queene. Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queene?