Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T42 English historical figures: a mixed clus typicality 0.79 · 488 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T42: harry, percy, lord, king, god, falstalffe, frances, mowbray, life, mortimer.
Can sick men play so nicely with their names? No, misery makes sport to mock itself: Since thou dost seeke to kill my name in mec, I mock my name (great King) to flatter thee. Should dying men flatter those that live? No, no, men living flatter those that die. Thou now a dying, sayest thou flatterest me. Oh no, thou diest, though I the sicker be. I am in health, I breath, I see thee ill. Now he that made me, knows I see thee ill: Ill in myself to see, and in thee, seeing ill, Thy deathbed is no lesser than the Land, Wherein thou liest in reputation sick, And thou too careless patient as thou art, Committest thy ' anointed body to the cure Of those Physicians, that first wounded thee. A thousand flatterers sit within thy Crown, Whose compass is no bigger than thy head, And yet incaged in so small a Verge, The waste is no whit lesser than thy Land: Oh had thy Grandsire with a Prophet's eye, Seen how his son's son, should destroy his sons, From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame, Deposing thee before thou wert possessed, Which art possessed now to depose thyself. Why (Cousin) were thou Regent of the world, It were a shame to let his Land by lease: But for thy world enjoying but this Land, Is it not more than shame, to shame it so? Landlord of England art thou, and not King: Thy state of Law, is bondslave to the law, And— And thou, a lunatic lean-witted fool, Presuming on an Agues privilege, Darest with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheek, chafing the Royal blood With fury, from his native residence? Now by my Seats right Royal Majesty, Were't thou not Brother to great Edward's son, This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head, Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders. Oh spare me not, my brothers Edward's son, For that I was his Father Edward's son: That blood already (like the Pelican) Thou hast tapped out, and drunkenly carowsed. My brother Gloucester, plain well meaning soul (Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls) May be a precedent, and witness good, That thou respectest not spilling Edward's blood: Toyne with the present sickness that I have, And thy unkindness be like crooked age, To crop at once a too-long withered flower. Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee, These words hereafter, thy tormentors be. Convey me to my bed, then to my grave, Love they to live, that love and honour have. And let them dye, that age and sullens have, For both hast thou, and both become the grave. I do beseech your Majesty impute his words To wayward sickliness, and age in him: He loves you on my life, and holds you dear As Harry Duke of Herford, were he here.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 701–762 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 12 of 43 in this edition
Length
488 words · 660 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T42 — English historical figures: a mixed clustercontext only — excluded from the genre comparison · typicality 0.787 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T43 · seed 44: T43 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Can ſicke men play ſo nicely with their names? No, miſery makes ſport to mocke it ſelfe: Since thou doſt ſeeke to kill my name in mec, I mocke my name (great King) to flatter thee. Should dying men flatter thoſe that liue? No, no, men liuing flatter thoſe that dye. Thou now a dying, ſayſt thou flatter'ſt me. Oh no, thou dyeſt, though I the ſicker be. I am in health, I breath, I ſee the ill. Now he that made me, knowes I ſee thee ill: Ill in my ſelfe to ſee, and in thee, ſeeing ill, Thy death-bed is no leſſer then the Land, Wherein thou lyeſt in reputation ſicke, And thou too care-leſſe patient as thou art, Commit'ſt thy' anointed body to the cure Of thoſe Phyſitians, that firſt wounded thee. A thouſand flatterers ſit within thy Crowne, Whoſe compaſſe is no bigger then thy head, And yet incaged in ſo ſmall a Verge, The waſte is no whit leſſer then thy Land: Oh had thy Grandſire with a Prophets eye, Seene how his ſonnes ſonne, ſhould deſtroy his ſonnes, From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy ſhame, Depoſing thee before thou wert poſſeſt, Which art poſſeſt now to depoſe thy ſelfe. Why (Coſine) were thou Regent of the world, It were a ſhame to let his Land by leaſe: But for thy world enioying but this Land, Is it not more then ſhame, to ſhame it ſo? Landlord of England art thou, and not King: Thy ſtate of Law, is bondſlaue to the law, And— And thou, a lunaticke leane-witted foole, Preſuming on an Agues priuiledge, Dar'ſt with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheeke, chafing the Royall blood With fury, from his natiue reſidence? Now by my Seates right Royall Maieſtie, Wer't thou not Brother to great Edwards ſonne, This tongue that runs ſo roundly in thy head, Should run thy head from thy vnreuerent ſhoulders. Oh ſpare me not, my brothers Edwards ſonne, For that I was his Father Edwards ſonne: That blood already (like the Pellican) Thou haſt tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd. My brother Glouceſter, plaine well meaning ſoule (Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongſt happy ſoules) May be a preſident, and witneſſe good, That thou reſpect'ſt not ſpilling Edwards blood: Toyne with the preſent ſickneſſe that I haue, And thy vnkindneſſe be like crooked age, To crop at once a too-long wither'd flowre. Liue in thy ſhame, but dye not ſhame with thee, Theſe words heereafter, thy tormentors bee. Conuey me to my bed, then to my graue, Loue they to liue, that loue and honor haue. And let them dye, that age and ſullens haue, For both haſt thou, and both become the graue. I do beſeech your Maieſtie impute his words To wayward ſicklineſſe, and age in him: He loues you on my life▪ and holds you deere As Harry Duke of Herford, were he heere.