Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 489 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
It boots thee not to be compassionate, After our sentence, plaining comes too late. Then thus I turn me from my country's light To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. Return again, and take an oath with thee, Lay on our Royal sword, your banished hands; Swear by the duty that you own to heaven (Our part therein we banish with yourselves) To keep the Oath that we administer: You never shall (so help you Truth, and Heaven) Embrace each others love in banishment, Nor ever look upon each others face, Nor ever write, regreet, or reconcile This lowering tempest of your homebred hate, Nor ever by advised purpose meet, To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, 'Gainst Us, our State, our Subjects, or our Land. I swear. And I, to keep all this. Norfolk, so far, as to mine enemy, By this time (had the King permitted us) One of our souls had wandered in the air, Banished this frail sepulchre of our flesh, As now our flesh is banished from this Land. Confess thy Treasons, ere thou fly this Realm, Since thou hast far to go, bear not along The clogging burden of a guilty soul. No Bullingbroke: If ever I were Traitor, My name be blotted from the book of Life, And I from heaven banished, as from hence: But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know, And all too soon (I fear) the King shall rue. Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray, Save back to England, all the worlds my way. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect, Hath from the number of his banished years Plucked four away: Six frozen Winters spent, Return with welcome home, from banishment. How long a time lies in one little word: Four lagging Winters, and four wanton springs End in a word, such is the breath of Kings. I thank my Liege, that in regard of me He shortens four years of my son's exile: But little vantage shall I reap thereby. For ere the six years that he hath to spend Can change their Moons, and bring their times about, My oyle-dride Lamp, and time-bewasted light Shall be extinct with age, and endless night: My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done, And blindfold death, not let me see my son. Why Uncle, thou hast many years to live. But not a minute (King) that thou canst give; Shorten my days thou canst with sudden sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow: Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage: Thy word is currant with him, for my death, But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. Thy son is banished upon good advice, Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave, Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower?
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)
It boots thee not to be compaſsionate, After our ſentence, plaining comes too late. Then thus I turne me from my countries light To dwell in ſolemne ſhades of endleſſe night. Returne againe, and take an oath with thee, Lay on our Royall ſword, your baniſht hands; Sweare by the duty that you owe to heauen (Our part therein we baniſh with your ſelues) To keepe the Oath that we adminiſter: You neuer ſhall (ſo helpe you Truth, and Heauen) Embrace each others loue in baniſhment, Nor euer looke vpon each others face, Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile This lowring tempeſt of your home-bred hate, Nor euer by aduiſed purpoſe meete, To plot, contriue, or complot any ill, 'Gainſt Vs, our State, our Subiects, or our Land. I ſweare. And I, to keepe all this. Norfolke, ſo fare, as to mine enemie, By this time (had the King permitted vs) One of our ſoules had wandred in the ayre, Baniſh'd this fraile ſepulchre of our fleſh, As now our fleſh is baniſh'd from this Land. Confeſſe thy Treaſons, ere thou flye this Realme, Since thou haſt farre to go, beare not along The clogging burthen of a guilty ſoule. No Bullingbroke: If euer I were Traitor, My name be blotted from the booke of Life, And I from heauen baniſh'd, as from hence: But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know, And all too ſoone (I feare) the King ſhall rue. Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I ſtray, Saue backe to England, all the worlds my way. Vncle, euen in the glaſſes of thine eyes I ſee thy greeued heart: thy ſad aſpect, Hath from the number of his baniſh'd yeares Pluck'd foure away: Six frozen Winters ſpent, Returne with welcome home, from baniſhment. How long a time lyes in one little word: Foure lagging Winters, and foure wanton ſprings End in a word, ſuch is the breath of Kings. I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me He ſhortens foure yeares of my ſonnes exile: But little vantage ſhall I reape thereby. For ere the ſixe yeares that he hath to ſpend Can change their Moones, and bring their times about, My oyle-dride Lampe, and time-bewaſted light Shall be extinct with age, and endleſſe night: My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done, And blindfold death, not let me ſee my ſonne. Why Vncle, thou haſt many yeeres to liue. But not a minute (King) that thou canſt giue; Shorten my dayes thou canſt with ſudden ſorow, And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow: Thou canſt helpe time to furrow me with age, But ſtop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage: Thy word is currant with him, for my death, But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath. Thy ſonne is baniſh'd vpon good aduice, Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gaue, Why at our Iuſtice ſeem'ſt thou then to lowre?