Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) unassigned nearest T43 York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and · 519 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T43: henry, king, richard, warwick, york, edward, father, duke, crown, son.
Mylord, I know a discontented gentleman, Whose humble means match not his haughty mind, Would were as good as twenty Orators, And will no doubt tempt him to any thing. What is his name. His name my Lord is Tirrell. Go call him hither presently, The deep revolving witty Buckingham, No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel, Hath he so long held out with me vntirde And stops he now for breath? How now, what neewes with you? My Lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset Is fled to Richmond, in those parts beyond the seas where he abides. Catesby. My Lord. Rumor it abroad That Anne my wife is sick and like to die, I will take order for her keeping close: Inquire me out some mean borne gentleman, Whom I will marry strait to Clarence daughter, The boy is foolish, and I fear not him: Look how thou dreamest: I say again give our That Anne my wife is sick and like to die. About it, for it stands me much upon To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me, I must be married to my brother's daughter, Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass, Murder her brothers, and then marry her, Uncertain way of gain, but I am in So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin, Tear falling pity dwells not in this eye, Is thy name Tirrill? Iames Tirrell and your most obedient subject. Art thou indeed? Prove me my gracious sovereign, darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? I my Lord, but I had rather kill two enemies. Why there thou hast it two deep enemies, Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleeps disturbs, Are they that I would have thee deal upon: Tirrel I mean those bastards in the tower. Let me have open means to come to them, And soon i'll rid you from the fear of them. Thou singest sweet music. Come hither Tirrel, Go by that token, rise and lend thine ear, 'tis no more but so, say is it done, And I will love thee and prefer thee too. 'tis done my gracious lord. Shall we hear from thee Tirrel ere we sleep? Ye shall my lord, My lord, I have considered in my mind, The late demand that you did sound me in. Well, let that pass, Dorset is fled to Richmond. I hear that news my lord. Stanley he is your wife's sons. Wellooke to it. My lord, I claim your gift, my dew by promise. For which your honour and your faith is pawned, The Earldom of Herford and the movables, The which you promised I should possess. Stanley look to your wife, if she convey Letters to Richmond you shall answer it. What says your highness to my just demand. As I remember, Henry the sixth Did prophecy that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peevish boy: A king perhaps, perhaps. My lord. How chance the prophet could not at that time, Have told me I being by, that I should kill him.
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)
Mylord, I know a discontented gentleman, Whose humble meanes match not his haughtie mind, ould were as good as twentie Orators, And will no doubt tempt him to any thing. What is his name. His name my Lord is Tirrell. Go call him hither presentlie, The deepe reuoluing wittie Buckingham, No more shall be the neighbour to my counsell, Hath he so long held out with me vntirde And stops he nowe for breath? How now, what neewes vvith you? My Lord, I heare the Marques Dorset Is fled to Richmond, in those partes beyond the seas where he abides. Catesby. My Lord. Rumor it abroad That Anne my wife is sicke and like to die, I will take order for her keeping close: Enquire me out some meane borne gentleman, Whom I will marrie straight to Clarence daughter, The boy is foolish, and I feare not him: Looke how thou dreamst: I say againe giue ou That Anne my wife is sicke and like to die. About it, for it stands me much vpon To stop all hopes vvhose growth may damadge me, I must be married to my brothers daughter, Or else my kingdome stands on brittle glasse, Murther her brothers, and then marrie her, Vncertaine vvaie of gaine, but I am in So far in bloud that sinne vvill plucke on sin, Teare faling pittie dwels not in this eie, Is thy name Tirrill? Iames Tirrell and your most obedient subiect. Art thou indeed? Proue me my gracious soueraigne, Darst thou resolue to kill a friend of mie? I my Lord, but I had rather kill two enemies. Why there thou hast it two deepe enemies, Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleepes disturbs, Are they that I would haue thee deale vpon: Tirrel I meane those bastards in the tower. Let me haue open meanes to come to them, And soone ile rid you from the feare of them. Thou singst sweet musicke. Come hither Tirrel, Go by that token, rise and lend thine eare, Tis no more but so, saie is it done, And I will loue thee and prefer thee too. Tis done my gracious lord. Shal we heare from thee Tirrel ere we sleep? Ye shall my lord, My lord, I haue considered in my mind, The late demand that you did sound me in. Well, let that passe, Dorset is fled to Richmond. I heare that newes my lord. Stanley he is your wifes sonnes. Wellooke to it. My lord, I claime your gift, my dew by promise. For which your honor and your faith is pawnd, The Earledome of Herford and the moueables, The which you promised I should possesse. Stanley looke to your wife, if she conuay Letters to Richmond you shall answere it. What saies your highnes to my iust demand. As I remember, Henie the sixt Did prophecie that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peeuish boy: A king perhaps, perhaps. My lord. How chance the prophet could not at that time, Haue told me I being by, that I should kill him.