Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1596-1597] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T42 English historical figures: a mixed clus · 480 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.
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 reaped, Showed like a stubble Land at 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 Snuffe: 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 term He questioned me: Among the rest, demanded My Prisoners, in your Majesty's behalf. I then, all-smarting, with my wounds being cold, (To be so pestered with a Popingay) Out of my Grief, and my Impatience, Answered (neglectingly) I know not what, He should, or 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, & Drums, and Wounds: God save the mark; And telling me, the Soueraign'st thing on earth Was Parmacity, for an inward bruise: And that it was great pity, so it was, That 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) Made me to answer indirectly (as I said.) And I beseech you, let not this report Come currant for an Accusation, Betwixt my Love, and your high Majesty. The circumstance considered, good my Lord, What ever Harry Percy then had said, To such a person, and in such a place, At such a time, with all the rest reto;d, May reasonably dye, and never rise To do him wrong or any way impeach What then he said, so he unsay it now. Why yet doth deny his Prisoners, But with Proviso and Exception, That we at our own charge, shall ransom strait His Brother-in-Law, the foolish Mortimer, Who (in my soul) hath wilfully betrayed The lives of those, that he did lead to Fight, Against the great Magician, damned Glendower: Whose daughter (as we hear) the Earl of March Hath lately married. Shall our Coffers then, Be emptied, to redeem a Traitor home? Shall we buy Treason? and indent with Fears, When they have lost and forfeited themselves. No: on the barren Mountain let him starve: For I shall never hold that man my Friend, Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost To ransom home revolted Mortimer.
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)
My Liege, I did deny no Priſoners. But, I remember when the fight was done, When I was dry with Rage, and extreame Toyle, Breathleſſe, and Faint, leaning vpon my Sword, Came there a certaine Lord, neat and trimly dreſt; Freſh as a Bride-groome, and his Chin new reapt, Shew'd like a ſtubble Land at Harueſt home. He was perfumed like a Milliner, And 'twixt his Finger and his Thumbe, he held A Pouncet-box: which euer and anon He gaue his Noſe, and took't away againe: Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Tooke it in Snuffe: And ſtill he ſmil'd and talk'd: And as the Souldiers bare dead bodies by, He call'd them vntaught Knaues, Vnmannerly, To bring a ſlouenly vnhandſome Coarſe Betwixt the Winde, and his Nobility. With many Holiday and Lady tearme He queſtion'd me: Among the reſt, demanded My Priſoners, in your Maieſties behalfe. I then, all-ſmarting, with my wounds being cold, (To be ſo peſtered with a Popingay) Out of my Greefe, and my Impatience, Anſwer'd (neglectingly) I know not what, He ſhould, or 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, & Drums, and Wounds: God ſaue the marke; And telling me, the Soueraign'ſt thing on earth Was Parmacity, for an inward bruiſe: And that it was great pitty, ſo it was, That villanous Salt-peter ſhould be digg'd Out of the Bowels of the harmleſſe Earth, Which many a good Tall Fellow had deſtroy'd So Cowardly. And but for theſe vile Gunnes▪ He would himſelfe haue beene a Souldier. This bald, vnioynted Chat of his (my Lord) Made me to anſwer indirectly (as I ſaid.) And I beſeech you, let not this report Come currant for an Accuſation, Betwixt my Loue, and your high Maieſty▪ The circumſtance conſidered, good my Lord, What euer Harry Percie then had ſaid, To ſuch a perſon, and in ſuch a place, At ſuch a time, with all the reſt retold, May reaſonably dye, and neuer riſe To do him wrong or any way impeach What then he ſaid, ſo he vnſay it now. Why yet doth deny his Priſoners, But with Prouiſo and Exception, That we at our owne charge, ſhall ranſome ſtraight His Brother-in-Law, the fooliſh Mortimer, Who (in my ſoule) hath wilfully betraid The liues of thoſe, that he did leade to Fight, Againſt the great Magitian, damn'd Glendower: Whoſe daughter (as we heare) the Earle of March Hath lately married. Shall our Coffers then, Be emptied, to redeeme a Traitor home? Shall we buy Treaſon? and indent with Feares, When they haue loſt and forfeyted themſelues. No: on the barren Mountaine let him ſterue: For I ſhall neuer hold that man my Friend, Whoſe tongue ſhall aske me for one peny coſt To ranſome home reuolted Mortimer.