Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T42 English historical figures: a mixed clus · 500 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T42: harry, percy, lord, king, god, falstalffe, frances, mowbray, life, mortimer.
Yet looks he like a King: behold his Eye (As bright as is the Eagles) lightens forth Controlling Majesty: alack, alack, for woe, That any harm should stain so fair a show. We are amazed, and thus long have we stood To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, Because we thought ourself thy lawful King: And if we be, how dare thy joints forget To pay their awful duty to our presence? If we be not, show us the Hand of God, That hath dismissed us from our Stewardship, For well we know, no Hand of Blood and Bone Can gripe the sacred Handle of our Sceptre, Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. And though you think, that all, as you have done, Have torn their Souls, by turning them from us, And we are barren, and bereft of Friends: Yet know, my Master, God Omnipotent, Is mustering in his Clouds, on our behalf, Armies of Pestilence, and they shall strike Your Children yet unborn, and vnbegot, That lift your Vassal Hands against my Head, And threat the Glory of my precious Crown. Tell Bullingbrooke, for yond me thinks he is, That every stride he makes upon my Land, Is dangerous Treason: He is come to open The purple Testament of bleeding War; But ere the Crown he looks for, live in peace, Ten thousand bloody crowns of Mother's Sons Shall ill become the flower of England's face, Change the complexion of her Maid-pale Peace To Scarlet Indignation, and bedew Her Pastor's Grass with faithful English Blood. The King of Heaven forbidden our Lord the King Should so with civil and uncivil Arms Be rushed upon: Thy thrice-noble Cousin, Harry Bullingbrooke, doth humbly kiss thy hand, And by the Honourable Tomb he swears, That stands upon your Royal Grandsire's 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 a Prince, is just, And as I am a Gentleman, I credit him. Northumberland, say thus: The King returns, His Noble Cousin 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 ourself (Cousin) 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 Lord, let's fight with gentle words, Till tune lend friends, and friends their helpeful Swords.
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)
Yet lookes he like a King: behold his Eye (As bright as is the Eagles) lightens forth Controlling Maieſtie: alack, alack, for woe, That any harme ſhould ſtaine ſo faire a ſhew. Wee are amaz'd, and thus long haue we ſtood To watch the fearefull bending of thy knee, Becauſe we thought our ſelfe thy lawfull King: And if we be, how dare thy ioynts forget To pay their awfull dutie to our preſence? If we be not, ſhew vs the Hand of God, That hath diſmiſs'd vs from our Stewardſhip, For well wee know, no Hand of Blood and Bone Can gripe the ſacred Handle of our Scepter, Vnleſſe he doe prophane, ſteale, or vſurpe. And though you thinke, that all, as you haue done, Haue torne their Soules, by turning them from vs, And we are barren, and bereft of Friends: Yet know, my Maſter, God Omnipotent, Is muſtring in his Clouds, on our behalfe, Armies of Peſtilence, and they ſhall ſtrike Your Children yet vnborne, and vnbegot, That lift your Vaſſall Hands againſt my Head, And threat the Glory of my precious Crowne. Tell Bullingbrooke, for yond me thinkes he is, That euery ſtride he makes vpon my Land, Is dangerous Treaſon: He is come to ope The purple Teſtament of bleeding Warre; But ere the Crowne he lookes for, liue in peace, Ten thouſand bloody crownes of Mothers Sonnes Shall ill become the flower of Englands face, Change the complexion of her Maid-pale Peace To Scarlet Indignation, and bedew Her Paſtors Graſſe with faithfull Engliſh Blood. The King of Heauen forbid our Lord the King Should ſo with ciuill and vnciuill Armes Be ruſh'd vpon: Thy thrice-noble Couſin, Harry Bullingbrooke, doth humbly kiſſe thy hand, And by the Honorable Tombe he ſweares, That ſtands vpon your Royall 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 Honor of himſelfe, Compriſing all that may be ſworne, or ſaid, His comming hither hath no further ſcope, Then for his Lineall Royalties, and to begge Infranchiſement immediate on his knees: Which on thy Royall partie graunted once, His glittering Armes he will commend to' Ruſt, His barbed Steedes to Stables, and his heart To faithfull ſeruice of your Maieſtie: This ſweares he, as he is a Prince, is iuſt, And as I am a Gentleman, I credit him. Northumberland, ſay thus: The King returnes, His Noble Couſin is right welcome hither, And all the number of his faire demands Shall be accompliſh'd without contradiction: With all the gracious vtterance thou haſt, Speake to his gentle hearing kind commends, We doe debaſe our ſelfe (Couſin) doe we not, To looke ſo poorely, and to ſpeake ſo faire? Shall we call back Northumberland, and ſend Defiance to the Traytor, and ſo die? No, good my Lord, let's fight with gentle words, Till tune lend friends, and friends their helpeful Swords.