Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) unassigned nearest T43 York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T43: henry, king, richard, warwick, york, edward, father, duke, crown, son.
To morrow may it please you to be Crowned. Even when you please, for you will have it so. To morrow than we will attend your Grace, And so most joyfully we take our leave. Come, let us to our holy Work again. Farewell my Cousins, farewell gentle friends. Who meets us here? My Niece Plantagenet, Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Gloster? Now, for my Life, she's wand'ring to the Tower, On pure hearts love, to greet the tender Prince. Daughter, well met. God give your Graces both, a happy And a joyful time of day. As much to you, good Sister: whither away? No farther than the Tower, and as I guess, Upon the like devotion as yourselves, To gratulate the gentle Princes there. Kind Sister thankes, we'll enter all together: And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes. Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leave, How doth the Prince, and my young Son of York? Right well, dear Madame: by your patience, I may not suffer you to visit them, The King hath strictly charged the contrary. The King? who's that? I mean, the Lord Protector. The Lord protect him from that Kingly Title. Hath he set bounds between their love, and me? I am their Mother, who shall bar me from them? I am their Father's Mother, I will see them. Their Aunt I am in law, in love their Mother: Then bring me to their sights, I'll bear thy blame, And take thy Office from thee, on my peril. No, Madame, no; I may not leave it so: I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me. Let me but meet you Ladies one hour hence, And I'll salute your Grace of York as Mother, And reverend looker on of two fair Queens, Come Madame, you must strait to Westminster, There to be crowned Richard's Royal Queen. Ah, cut my Lace asunder, That my penned heart may have some scope to beat, Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news. Despiteful tidings, O unpleasing news. Be of good cheer: Mother, how fares your Grace? O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone, Death and Destruction dogs thee at thy heels, Thy Mother's Name is ominous to Children. If thou wilt outstrip Death, go cross the Seas, And live with Richmond, from the reach of Hell. Go hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house, Lest thou increase the number of the dead, And make me dye the thrall of Margaret's Curse, Nor Mother, Wife, nor England's counted Queen. Full of wise care, is this your counsel, Madame: Take all the swift advantage of the hours: You shall have Letters from me to my Son, In your behalf, to meet you on the way: Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. O ill dispersing Wind of Misery, O my accursed Womb, the Bed of Death: A Cockatrice hast thou hatched to the World. Whose unavoided Eye is murderous. Come, Madame, come, I in all haste was sent.
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)
To morrow may it pleaſe you to be Crown'd. Euen when you pleaſe, for you will haue it ſo. To morrow then we will attend your Grace, And ſo moſt ioyfully we take our leaue. Come, let vs to our holy Worke againe. Farewell my Couſins, farewell gentle friends. Who meetes vs heere? My Neece Plantagenet, Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Gloſter? Now, for my Life, ſhee's wandring to the Tower, On pure hearts loue, to greet the tender Prince. Daughter, well met. God giue your Graces both, a happie And a ioyfull time of day. As much to you, good Siſter: whither away? No farther then the Tower, and as I gueſſe, Vpon the like deuotion as your ſelues, To gratulate the gentle Princes there. Kind Siſter thankes, wee'le enter all together: And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes. Maſter Lieutenant, pray you, by your leaue, How doth the Prince, and my young Sonne of Yorke? Right well, deare Madame: by your patience, I may not ſuffer you to viſit them, The King hath ſtrictly charg'd the contrary. The King? who's that? I meane, the Lord Protector. The Lord protect him from that Kingly Title. Hath he ſet bounds betweene their loue, and me? I am their Mother, who ſhall barre me from them? I am their Fathers Mother, I will ſee them. Their Aunt I am in law, in loue their Mother: Then bring me to their ſights, Ile beare thy blame, And take thy Office from thee, on my perill. No, Madame, no; I may not leaue it ſo: I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me. Let me but meet you Ladies one howre hence, And Ile ſalute your Grace of Yorke as Mother, And reuerend looker on of two faire Queenes, Come Madame, you muſt ſtraight to Weſtminſter, There to be crowned Richards Royall Queene. Ah, cut my Lace aſunder, That my pent heart may haue ſome ſcope to beat, Or elſe I ſwoone with this dead-killing newes. Deſpightfull tidings, O vnpleaſing newes. Be of good cheare: Mother, how fares your Grace? O Dorſet, ſpeake not to me, get thee gone, Death and Deſtruction dogges thee at thy heeles, Thy Mothers Name is ominous to Children. If thou wilt out-ſtrip Death, goe croſſe the Seas, And liue with Richmond, from the reach of Hell. Goe hye thee, hye thee from this ſlaughter-houſe, Leſt thou encreaſe the number of the dead, And make me dye the thrall of Margarets Curſe, Nor Mother, Wife, nor Englands counted Queene. Full of wiſe care, is this your counſaile, Madame: Take all the ſwift aduantage of the howres: You ſhall haue Letters from me to my Sonne, In your behalfe, to meet you on the way: Be not ta'ne tardie by vnwiſe delay. O ill diſperſing▪ Winde of Miſerie, O my accurſed Wombe, the Bed of Death: A Cockatrice haſt thou hatcht to the World. Whoſe vnauoided Eye is murtherous. Come, Madame, come, I in all haſte was ſent.