Shakespeare, William · published 1598 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1596-1597] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T42 English historical figures: a mixed clus typicality 0.89 · 522 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T42: harry, percy, lord, king, god, falstalffe, frances, mowbray, life, mortimer.
My blood hath been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities, And you have found me, for accordingly You tread upon my patience, but be sure I will from henceforth rather be myself Mighty, and to be feared, than my condition Which hath been smooth as oil soft as young down, And therefore lost that title of respect, Which the proud soul near pays but to the proud. Our house (my sovereign liege) little deserves The scourge of greatness to be used on it, And that same greatness to, which our own hands Have holp to make so portly. My Lord. Worcester get thee gone for I do see Danger, and disobedience in thine eye: O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, And Majesty might never yet endure The moody frontier of a servant brow, You have good leave to leave us, when we need Your use and counsel we shall send for you. You were about to speak. Yea my good Lord. Those prisoners in your highness name demanded. Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, Were as he says, nor with such strength denied As is delivered to your majesty. Either envy therefore, or misprision, Is guilty of this fault, and not my son. My liege, I did deny no prisoners, But I remember when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain Lord, neat and trimly dressed, Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin new rept, Showed like a stubble land as harvest home, He was perfumed like a Milliner, And twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet box, which ever and anon He gave his nose, and took't away again, Who therewith angry, when it next came there took it in snuff, and still he smiled and talked: And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome coarse Betwixt the wind and his nobility: With many holiday and lady terms He questioned me, amongst the rest demanded My prisoners in your majesties behalf. I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, To be so pestered with a popinjay, Out of my grief and my impatience Answered neglectingly, I know not what He should or he should not, for he made me mad To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman, Of guns, and drums, and wounds, God save the mark: And telling me the soveraignest thing on earth Was Parmacitie, for an inward bruise, And that it was great pity, so it was, This villainous saltpetre, should be digged Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed So cowardly, and but for these vile guns He would himself have been a soldier. This bald unjointed chat of his (my Lord) I answered indirectly (as I said) And I beseech you, let not his report Come currant for an accusation Betwixt my love and your high majesty.
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)
My blood hath bin too colde and temperate, Vnapt to stir at these indignities, And you haue found me, for accordingly You tread vpon my patience, but be sure I will from henceforth rather be my selfe Mightie, and to be fearde, then my condition Which hath bin smooth as oile soft as yong downe, And therefore lost that title of respect, Which the proud soule neare payes but to the proud. Our house (my soueraigne liege) little deserues The scourge of greatnes to be vsd on it, And that same greatnese to, which our owne hands Haue holpe to make so portly. My Lord. Worcester get thee gone for I do see Danger, and diobedience in thine eie: O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptorie, And Maiestie might neuer yet endure The moodie frontier of a seruant browe, You haue good leaue to leaue vs, when we need Your vse and counsel we shall send for you. You were about to speake. Yea my good Lord. Those prisoners in your highnes name demanded. Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon tooke, Were as he saies, nor with such strength denied As is deliuered to your maiestie. Either enuie therefore, or misprision, Is guiltie of this fault, and not my sonne. My liege, I did denie no prisoners, But I remember when the fight was done, When I was drie with rage, and extreame toile, Breathles and faint, leaning vpon my sword, Came there a certaine Lord, neat and trimly drest, Fresh as a bridegroome, and his chin new rept, Shewd like a stubble land as haruest home, He was perfumed like a Milliner, And twixt his finger and his thumbe he helde A pouncet boxe, which euer and anon He gaue his nose, and tookt away againe, Who therewith angry, when it next came there Tooke it in snuffe, and still hee smild and talkt: And as the souldiours bore dead bodies by, He cald them vntaught knaues, vnmanerlie, To bring a slouenly vnhandsome coarse Betwixt the winde and his nobilitie: With many holly-day and ladie termes He questioned me, amongst the rest demanded My prisoners in your Maiesties behalfe. I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, To be so pestred with a Popingay, Out of my griefe and my impacience Answerd neglectingly, I know not what He should or he should not, for he made me mad To see him shine so briske, and smell so sweet, And talke so like a waiting gentlewoman, Of guns, and drums, and wounds, God saue the mark: And telling me the soueraignest thing on earth Was Parmacitie, for an inward bruise, And that it was great pitty, so it was, This villanous saltpeeter, should be digd Out of the bowels of the harmeles earth, Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed So cowardly, and but for these vile guns He would himselfe haue beene a souldior. This bald vnioynted that of hs (my Lord) I answered indirectly (as I said) And I beseech you, let not his report Come currant for an accusation Betwixt my loue and your high maiestie.