Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T43 York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T43: henry, king, richard, warwick, york, edward, father, duke, crown, son.
How far is it to Barckly, and what stur Keeps good old York there with his men of war? There stands the Castle by yond tuft of trees, Manned with 300. men as I have heard, And in it are the Lords of York Barkly and Seymer, None else of name and noble estimate. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby▪ Bloody with spurring, fiery red with haste. Welcome my Lords, I wots your love pursues, A banished traitor: all my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enriched▪ Shallbe your love and labours recompense. Your presence makes us rich, most noble Lord. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. Evermore thanke's the exchequer of the poor. Which till my infant fortune comes to years, Stands for my bounty: but who comes here? It is my Lord of Barkly as I guess. My Lord of Hereford my message is to you▪ My Lord my answer is to Lancaster, And I am come to seek that name in England, And I must find that title in your tongue, Before I make reply to aught you say. Mistake me not my Lord, 'tis not my meaning, To raze one title of your honour out: To you my Lo: I come, what Lo: you will, From the most gracious regent of this land The Duke of York: to know what pricks you on, To take advantage of the absent time, And fright out native peace with selfeborne arms? I shall not need transport my words by you, Here comes his grace in person, my noble Uncle. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, Whose duty is deceivable and false. My gracious Uncle. Tut tut, grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle, I am no traitors Uncle, and that word Grace In an ungracious mouth is but profane: Why have those banished and forbidden legs, Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground: Put then more why? why have they dared to march So many miles upon her peaceful bosom, Frighting her pale faced villadges with war, And ostentation of despised arms? comest thou because the anointed king is hence? Why foolish boy the King is left behind, And in my loyal bosom lies his power, Were I but now Lord of such hot youth, As when brave Gaunt thy father and myself▪ Rescued the black prince that young Mars of men▪ From forth the ranks of many thousand french, O then how quickly should this arm of mine, Now prisoner to the Palsy chastise thee, And minister correction to thy fault! My gracious Uncle let me know my fault, On what condition stands it and wherein? Even in condition of the worst degree, In gross rebellion and detested treason, Thou art a banished man and here art come, Before the expiration of thy time, In braving arms against thy sovereign.
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)
How farre is it to Barckly, and what sur Keepes good old Yorke there with his men of war? There stands the Castle by yon tuft of trees, Mand with 300. men as I haue heard, And in it are the Lords of Yorke Barkly and Seymer, None else of name and noble estimate. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby▪ Bloudy with spurring, fiery red with haste. VVelcome my Lords, I wot your loue pursues, A banisht traitor: all my treasury Is yet but vnfelt thanks, which more inricht▪ Shalbe your loue and labours recompence. Your presence makes vs rich, most noble Lord. And far surmounts our labour to attaine it. Euermore thanke's the exchequer of the poore. VVhich till my infant fortune comes to yeares, Stands for my bounty: but who comes here? It is my Lord of Barkly as I guesse. My Lord of Hereford my message is to you▪ My Lord my answere is to Lancaster, And I am come to seeke that name in England, And I must find that title in your tongue, Before I make reply to ought you say. Mistake me not my Lord, tis not my meaning, To race one title of your honor out: To you my Lo: I come, what Lo: you will, From the most gratious regent of this land The Duke of Yorke: to know what prickes you on, To take aduantage of the absent time, And fright out natiue peace with selfeborne armes? I shall not need transport my words by you, Here comes his grace in person, my noble Vnckle. Shew me thy humbl heart, and not thy knee, Whose duety is deceiueable and false. My gratious Vnckle. Tut tut, grace me no grace, nor vnckle me no vnckle, I am no traitors Vnckle, and that word Grace In an vngratious mouth is but prophane: Why haue those banisht and forbidden legs, Dard once to touch a dust of Englands ground: Put then more why? why haue they dard to march So many miles vpon her peacefull bosoe, Frighting her pale fac't villadges with warre, And ostentation of despised armes? Comst thou because the annointed king is hence? Why soolish boy the King is left behinde, And in my loiall bosome lies his power, Were I but now Lord of such hot youth, As when baue Gaunt thy father and my selfe▪ Rescued the blacke prince that young Mars of men▪ From forth the ranckes of many thousand french, O then how quickly should this arme of mine, Now prisoner to the Palsie chastise thee, And minister correction to thy fault! My gratious Vnckle let me know my fault, On what condition stands it and wherein? Euen in condition of the worst degree, In grosse rebellin and detested treason, Thou art a banisht man and here art come, Before the expiration of thy time, In brang armes against thy soueraigne.