Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
The King of heaven forbidden: our Lo: the king Should so with civil and uncivil arms, be rushed upon. Thy thrice noble cozen, Harry Bullingbrooke doth humbly kiss thy hand, And by the honourable tomb he swears, That stands upon your royal grandsires bones, And by the royalties of both your bloods, Currents that spring from one most gracious head, And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, And by the worth and honour of himself, Comprising all that may be sworn or said. His coming hither hath no further scope, Then for his lineal royalties, and to beg Enfranchisement immediate on his knees, Which on thy royal party granted once, His glittering arms he will commend to rust, His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart To faithful service of your Majesty. This swears he, as he is princess just, And as I am a gentleman I credit him. Northumberland, say thus, the King returns, His noble cozen is right welcome hither, And all the number of his fair demands, Shall be accomplished without contradiction, With all the gracious utterance thou hast, Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. We do debase ourselves, cozen do we not, To look so poorly, and to speak so fair? Shall we call back Northumberland and send Defiance to the traitor and so die? No good my Lo: let's fight with gentle words, Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful sword's Oh God oh God that ere this tongue of mine That laid the sentence of dread banishment On yond proud man should take it off again With words of sooth! Oh that I were as great As is my grief, or lesser than my name! Or that I could forget what I have been! Or not remember what I must be now! Swellst thou (proud heart) I'll give thee scope to beat, Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. Northumberland comes back from Bullingbrooke What must the King do now? must he submit? The King shall do it: must he be deposed? The king shall be contented: must he lose The name of King? a God's name let it go: I'll give my jewels for a set of Beads: My gorgeous palace for a hermitage: My gay apparel for an almesmans' gown: My figured goblets for a dish of wood: My sceptre for a Palmer's walking staff: My subjects for a pair of carved Saints, And my large kingdom for a little grave, A little little grave, an obscure grave, Or I'll be buried in the King's high way, Some way of common trade, where subjects feet May hourly trample on their sovereign's head; For on my heart they tread now whilst I live: And buried once, why not upon my head? Aumerle thou weepst (my tenderhearted cousin) we'll make fowl weather with despised tears; Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn, And make a dearth in this revolting land: Or shall we play the wantoness with our woes,
seed 43: T57 · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The King of heauen forbid: our Lo: the king Should so with ciuill and vnciuill armes, be rusht vpon. Thy thrise noble Cosen, Harry Bullingbrooke doth humbly kisse thy hand, And by the honorable tombe he sweares, That stands vpon your roiall grandsires bones, And by the roialties of both your blouds, Currents that spring from one most gratious head, And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, And by the worth and honor of himselfe, Compriing all that may be sworne or said. His comming hither hath no further scope, Then for his lineall roialties, and to beg Infranchisement immediate on his knees, Which on thy roiall partie granted once, His glittering armes he will commend to rust, His barbed steeds to stables, and his hart To faithfull seruice of your Maiesty. This sweares he, as he is princesse iust, And as I am a gentleman I credit him. Northumberland, say thus, the King returnes, His noble Cosen is right welcome hither, And all the number of his faire demaunds, Shall be accomplisht without contradiction, With all the gratious vtterance thou hast, Speake to his gentle hearing kind commends. We do debase our selues, Cosen do we not, To looke so poorely, and to speake so faire? Shall we call backe Northumberland and send Defiance to the traitor and so die? No good my Lo: lets fight with gentle words, Till time lend friends, and friends their helpfull sword Oh God oh God that ere this ong of mine That aid the sentence of dread banishment On yon prowde man should take it off againe With words of sooth! Oh that I were as great As is my griefe, or lesser than my name! Or that I could forget what I haue beene! Or not remember what I must be now! Swellst thou (prowd heart) Ile giue thee scope to beate, Since foes haue scope to beate both thee and me. Northumberland comes backe from Bullingbrooke What must the King do now? must he submit? The King shall do it: must he be deposde? The king shall be contented: must he loose The name of King? a Gods name let it go: Ile giue my iewels for a set of Beades: My gorgeous pallace for a hermitage: My gay apparel for an almesmans gowne: My figurde goblets for a dish of wood: My scepter for a Palmers walking staffe: My subiects for a paire of carued Saintes, And my large kingdome for a little graue, A little little graue, an obscure graue, Or Ile be buried in the Kings hie way, Some way of common trade, where subiects feete May hourely trample on their soueraignes head; For on my heart they treade now whilst I liue: And buried once, why not vpon my head? Aumerle thou weepst (my tender-hearted coosin) Weele make fowle weather with despised teares; Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corne, And make a dearth in this reuolting land: Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,