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 · 537 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.
All studies here I solemnly defy, Save how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrooke, And that same Sword and Buckler Prince of Wales. But that I think his Father loves him not, And would be glad he met with some mischance, I would have poisoned him with a pot of Ale. Farewell Kinsman: I'll talk to you When you are better tempered to attend. Why what a Waspe-tongued & impatient fool Art thou, to break into this Woman's mood, Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own? Why look you, I am whipped & scourged with rods, Nettled, and stung with Pismires, when I hear Of this vile Politician Bullingbrooke. In Richard's time: What d'ye call the place? A plague upon't, it is in Gloustershire: 'Twas, where the madcap Duke his Uncle kept, His Uncle York, where I first bowed my knee Unto this King of Smiles, this Bullingbrooke: When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh. At Barkley Castle. You say true: Why what a caudie deal of courtesy, This fawning Greyhound than did proffer me. Look when his infant Fortune came to age, And gentle Harry Percy, and kind Cousin: O, the Devil take such Couzeners, God forgive me, Good Uncle tell your tale, for I have done. Nay, if you have not, too't again, we'll stay your leisure. I have done insooth. Then once more to your Scottish Prisoners. Deliver them up without their ransom strait, And make the Dowglas son your only mean For powers in Scotland: which for diverse reasons Which I shall send you written, be assured Will easily be granted you, my Lord. Your Son in Scotland being thus implied, Shall secretly into the bosom creep Of that same noble Prelate, well beloved, The Archbishop. Of York, is't not? True, who bears hard His Brother's death at Bristol, the Lord Scroop. I speak not this in estimation, As what I think might be, but what I know Is ruminated, plotted, and set down, And only stays but to behold the face Of that occasion that shall bring it on. I smell it: Upon my life, it will do wondrous well. Before the game's afoot, thou still lettest slip. Why, it cannot choose but be a Noble plot, And then the power of Scotland, and of York To join with Mortimer, Ha. And so they shall. Infaith it is exceedingly well aimed. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, To save our heads, by raising of a Head: For, bear ourselves as even as we can, The King will always think him in our debt, And think, we think ourselves unsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay us home. And see already, how he doth begin To make us strangers to his looks of love. He does, he does; we'll be revenged on him. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this, Then I by Letters shall direct your course When time is ripe, which will be suddenly: I'll steal to Glendower, and lo, Mortimer, Where you, and Dowglas, and our powers at once, As I will fashion it, shall happily meet, To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, Which now we hold at much uncertainty.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T13 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
All ſtudies heere I ſolemnly defie, Saue how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrooke, And that ſame Sword and Buckler Prince of Wales. But that I thinke his Father loues him not, And would be glad he met with ſome miſchance, I would haue poyſon'd him with a pot of Ale. Farewell Kinſman: Ile talke to you When you are better temper'd to attend. Why what a Waſpe-tongu'd & impatient foole Art thou, to breake into this Womans mood, Tying thine eare to no tongue but thine owne? Why look you, I am whipt & ſcourg'd with rods, Netled, and ſtung with Piſmires, when I heare Of this vile Politician Bullingbrooke. In Richards time: What de'ye call the place? A plague vpon't, it is in Glouſterſhire: 'Twas, where the madcap Duke his Vncle kept, His Vncle Yorke, where I firſt bow'd my knee Vnto this King of Smiles, this Bullingbrooke: When you and he came backe from Rauenſpurgh. At Barkley Caſtle. You ſay true: Why what a caudie deale of curteſie, This fawning Grey-hound then did proffer me. Looke when his infant Fortune came to age, And gentle Harry Percy, and kinde Couſin: O, the Diuell take ſuch Couzeners, God forgiue me, Good Vncle tell your tale, for I haue done. Nay, if you haue not, too't againe, Wee'l ſtay your leyſure. I haue done inſooth. Then once more to your Scottiſh Priſoners. Deliuer them vp without their ranſome ſtraight, And make the Dowglas ſonne your onely meane For powres in Scotland: which for diuers reaſons Which I ſhall ſend you written, be aſſur'd Will eaſily be granted you, my Lord. Your Sonne in Scotland being thus imply'd, Shall ſecretly into the boſome creepe Of that ſame noble Prelate, well belou'd, The Archbiſhop. Of Yorke, is't not? True, who beares hard His Brothers death at Briſtow, the Lord Scroope. I ſpeake not this in eſtimation, As what I thinke might be, but what I know Is ruminated, plotted, and ſet downe, And onely ſtayes but to behold the face Of that occaſion that ſhall bring it on. I ſmell it: Vpon my life, it will do wond'rous well. Before the game's a-foot, thou ſtill let'ſt ſlip. Why, it cannot chooſe but be a Noble plot, And then the power of Scotland, and of Yorke To ioyne with Mortimer, Ha. And ſo they ſhall. Infaith it is exceedingly well aym'd. And 'tis no little reaſon bids vs ſpeed, To ſaue our heads, by raiſing of a Head: For, beare our ſelues as euen as we can, The King will alwayes thinke him in our debt, And thinke, we thinke our ſelues vnſatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay vs home. And ſee already, how he doth beginne To make vs ſtrangers to his lookes of loue. He does, he does; wee'l be reueng'd on him. Couſin, farewell. No further go in this, Then I by Letters ſhall direct your courſe When time is ripe, which will be ſodainly: Ile ſteale to Glendower, and loe, Mortimer, Where you, and Dowglas, and our powres at once, As I will faſhion it, ſhall happily meete, To beare our fortunes in our owne ſtrong armes, Which now we hold at much vncertainty.