Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) unassigned nearest T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
Go on before, I'll talk with this good fellow. How now, Sirrah? how goes the World with thee? The better, that your Lordship please to ask. I tell thee man, 'tis better with me now, Then when thou mettest me last, where now we meet: Then was I going Prisoner to the Tower, By the suggestion of the Queen's Allies. But now I tell thee (keep it to thyself) This day those Enemies are put to death, And I in better state then ere I was. God hold it, to your Honour's good content. Gramercy fellow: there, drink that for me. I thank your Honor. Well met, my Lord, I am glad to see your Honour. I thank thee, good Sir Iohn, with all my heart. I am in your debt, for your last Exercise: Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you. I'll wait upon your Lordship. What, talking with a Priest, Lord Chamberlain? Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the Priest, Your Honour hath no shriving work in hand. Good faith, and when I met this holy man, The men you talk of, came into my mind. What, go you toward the Tower? I do, my Lord, but long I cannot stay there: I shall return before your Lordship, thence. Nay like enough, for I stay Dinner there. And Supper too, although thou knowst it not. Come, will you go? I'll wait upon your Lordship. Sir Richard Ratcliffe, let me tell thee this, To day shalt thou behold a Subject die, For Truth, for Duty, and for Loyalty. God bless the Prince from all the Pack of you, A Knot you are, of damned Bloodsuckers. You live, that shall cry woe for this hereafter. Dispatch, the limit of your Lives is out. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody Prison! Fatal and ominous to Noble Peers: Within the guilty Closure of thy Walls, Richard the Second here was hacked to death: And for more slander to thy dismal Seat, We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink. Now Margaret's Curse is fall'n upon our Heads, When she exclaimed on Hastings, you, and I, For standing by, when Richard stabbed her Son. Then cursed she Richard, Then cursed she Buckingham, Then cursed she Hastings. Oh remember God, To hear her prayer for them, as now for us: And for my Sister, and her Princely Sons, Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, Which, as thou knowst, unjustly must be spilt. Make haste, the hour of death is expiate. Come Grey, come Vaughan, let us here embrace. Farewell, until we meet again in Heaven. Now Noble Peers, the cause why we are met, Is to determine of the Coronation: In God's Name speak, when is the Royal day? Is all things ready for the Royal time? It is, and wants but nomination. To morrow than I judge a happy day. Who knows the Lord Protectors mind herein? Who is most inward with the Noble Duke? Your Grace, we think, should soon know his mind.
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)
Goe on before, Ile talke with this good fellow. How now, Sirrha? how goes the World with thee? The better, that your Lordſhip pleaſe to aske. I tell thee man, 'tis better with me now, Then when thou met'ſt me laſt, where now we meet: Then was I going Priſoner to the Tower, By the ſuggeſtion of the Queenes Allyes. But now I tell thee (keepe it to thy ſelfe) This day thoſe Enemies are put to death, And I in better ſtate then ere I was. God hold it, to your Honors good content. Gramercie fellow: there, drinke that for me. I thanke your Honor. Well met, my Lord, I am glad to ſee your Honor. I thanke thee, good Sir Iohn, with all my heart. I am in your debt, for your laſt Exerciſe: Come the next Sabboth, and I will content you. Ile wait vpon your Lordſhip. What, talking with a Prieſt, Lord Chamberlaine? Your friends at Pomfret, they doe need the Prieſt, Your Honor hath no ſhriuing worke in hand. Good faith, and when I met this holy man, The men you talke of, came into my minde. What, goe you toward the Tower? I doe, my Lord, but long I cannot ſtay there: I ſhall returne before your Lordſhip, thence. Nay like enough, for I ſtay Dinner there. And Supper too, although thou know'ſt it not. Come, will you goe? Ile wait vpon your Lordſhip. Sir Richard Ratcliffe, let me tell thee this, To day ſhalt thou behold a Subiect die, For Truth, for Dutie, and for Loyaltie. God bleſſe the Prince from all the Pack of you, A Knot you are, of damned Blood-ſuckers. You liue, that ſhall cry woe for this heereafter. Diſpatch, the limit of your Liues is out. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody Priſon! Fatall and ominous to Noble Peeres: Within the guiltie Cloſure of thy Walls, Richard the Second here was hackt to death: And for more ſlander to thy diſmall Seat, Wee giue to thee our guiltleſſe blood to drinke. Now Margarets Curſe is falne vpon our Heads, When ſhee exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, For ſtanding by, when Richard ſtab'd her Sonne. Then curs'd ſhee Richard, Then curs'd ſhee Buckingham, Then curs'd ſhee Hastings. Oh remember God, To heare her prayer for them, as now for vs: And for my Siſter, and her Princely Sonnes, Be ſatisfy'd, deare God, with our true blood, Which, as thou know'ſt, vniuſtly muſt be ſpilt. Make haſte, the houre of death is expiate. Come Grey, come Vaughan, let vs here embrace. Farewell, vntill we meet againe in Heauen. Now Noble Peeres, the cauſe why we are met, Is to determine of the Coronation: In Gods Name ſpeake, when is the Royall day? Is all things ready for the Royall time? It is, and wants but nomination. To morrow then I iudge a happie day. Who knowes the Lord Protectors mind herein? Who is moſt inward with the Noble Duke? Your Grace, we thinke, ſhould ſooneſt know his minde.