Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1596-1597] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T43 York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and · 541 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.
Nay then I cannot blame his Cousin King, That wished him on the barren Mountains starved. But shall it be, that you that set the Crown Upon the head of this forgetful man, And for his sake, wore the detested blot Of murderous subornation? Shall it be, That you a world of curses undergo, Being the Agents, or base second means, The Cords, the Ladder, or the Hangman rather? O pardon, if that I descend so low, To show the Line, and the Predicament Wherein you range under this subtle King. Shall it for shame, be spoken in these days, Or fill up Chronicles in time to come, That men of your Nobility and Power, Did gauge them both in an unjust behalf (As Both of you, God pardon it, have done) To put down Richard, that sweet lovely Rose, And plant this Thorn, this Canker Bullingbrooke? And shall it in more shame be further spoken, That you are fooled, discarded, and shook off By him, for whom these shames ye underwent? No: yet time serves, wherein you may redeem Your banished Honours, and restore yourselves Into the good Thoughts of the world again. Revenge the jeering and disdained contempt Of this proud King, who studies day and night To answer all the Debt he owes unto you, Even with the bloody Payment of your deaths: Therefore I say— Peace Cousin, say no more. And now I will unclasp a Secret book, And to your quick conceyving Discontents, I'll read you Matter, deep and dangerous, As full of peril and adventurous Spirit, As to o're-walke a Current, roaring loud On the unsteadfast footing of a Spear. If he fall in, good night, or sink or swim: Send danger from the East unto the West, So Honour cross it from the North to South, And let them grapple: The blood more stirs To rouse a Lion, then to start a Hare. Imagination of some great exploit, Drives him beyond the bounds of Patience. By heaven, me thinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright Honour from the pale-faced Moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where Fadome-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned Honour by the Locks: So he that doth redeem her thence, might wear Without Corivall, all her Dignities: But out upon this half-faced Fellowship. He apprehends a World of Figures here, But not the form of what he should attend: Good Cousin give me audience for awhile, And list to me. I cry you mercy. Those same Noble Scots That are your Prisoners. I'll keep them all. By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them: No, if a Scot would save his Soul, he shall not. I'll keep them, by this Hand. You start away, And lend no ear unto my purposes. Those Prisoners you shall keep. Nay, I will; that's flat: He said, he would not ransom Mortimer: Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer. But I will find him when he lies asleep, And in his ear, I'll holla Mortimer. Nay, I'll have a Starling shall be taught to speak Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him, To keep his anger still in motion. Hear you Cousin: a word.
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)
Nay then I cannot blame his Couſin King, That wiſh'd him on the barren Mountaines ſtaru'd. But ſhall it be, that you that ſet the Crowne Vpon the head of this forgetfull man, And for his ſake, wore the deteſted blot Of murtherous ſubornation? Shall it be, That you a world of curſes vndergoe, Being the Agents, or baſe ſecond meanes, The Cords, the Ladder, or the Hangman rather? O pardon, if that I deſcend ſo low, To ſhew the Line, and the Predicament Wherein you range vnder this ſubtill King. Shall it for ſhame, be ſpoken in theſe dayes, Or fill vp Chronicles in time to come, That men of your Nobility and Power, Did gage them both in an vniuſt behalfe (As Both of you, God pardon it, haue done) To put downe Richard, that ſweet louely Roſe, And plant this Thorne, this Canker Bullingbrooke? And ſhall it in more ſhame be further ſpoken, That you are fool'd, diſcarded, and ſhooke off By him, for whom theſe ſhames ye vnderwent? No: yet time ſerues, wherein you may redeeme Your baniſh'd Honors, and reſtore your ſelues Into the good Thoughts of the world againe. Reuenge the geering and diſdain'd contempt Of this proud King, who ſtudies day and night To anſwer all the Debt he owes vnto you, Euen with the bloody Payment of your deaths: Therefore I ſay— Peace Couſin, ſay no more. And now I will vnclaspe a Secret booke, And to your quicke conceyuing Diſcontents, Ile reade you Matter, deepe and dangerous, As full of perill and aduenturous Spirit, As to o're-walke a Current, roaring loud On the vnſtedfaſt footing of a Speare. If he fall in, good night, or ſinke or ſwimme: Send danger from the Eaſt vnto the Weſt, So Honor croſſe it from the North to South, And let them grapple: The blood more ſtirres To rowze a Lyon, then to ſtart a Hare. Imagination of ſome great exploit, Driues him beyond the bounds of Patience. By heauen, me thinkes it were an eaſie leap, To plucke bright Honor from the pale-fac'd Moone, Or diue into the bottome of the deepe, Where Fadome-line could neuer touch the ground, And plucke vp drowned Honor by the Lockes: So he that doth redeeme her thence, might weare Without Co-riuall, all her Dignities: But out vpon this halfe-fac'd Fellowſhip. He apprehends a World of Figures here, But not the forme of what he ſhould attend: Good Couſin giue me audience for a-while, And liſt to me. I cry you mercy. Thoſe ſame Noble Scottes That are your Priſoners. Ile keepe them all. By heauen, he ſhall not haue a Scot of them: No, if a Scot would ſaue his Soule, he ſhall not. Ile keepe them, by this Hand. You ſtart away, And lend no eare vnto my purpoſes. Thoſe Priſoners you ſhall keepe. Nay, I will; that's flat: He ſaid, he would not ranſome Mortimer: Forbad my tongue to ſpeake of Mortimer. But I will finde him when he lyes aſleepe, And in his eare, Ile holla Mortimer. Nay, Ile haue a Starling ſhall be taught to ſpeake Nothing but Mortimer, and giue it him, To keepe his anger ſtill in motion. Heare you Couſin: a word.