Wilson, Robert / Drayton, Michael / Munday, Anthony / Hathaway, Richard · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [Oct 16, payment] (Annals) history · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men unassigned nearest T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
What thou art, the king's hand shall testify, showwt him Lord Warden. Iesu defend me, Is't possible your cunning could so temper The princely disposition of his mind, To sign the damage of a royal subject? Well, the best is, it bears an antedate, Procured by my absence, and your malice, But I, since that, have showed myself as true, As any churchman that dare challenge me, Let me be brought before his majesty, If he acquit me not, then do your worst. We are not bound to do kind offices For any traitor, schismatic, nor heretic, The king's hand is our warrant for our work, Who is departed on his way for France, And at Southampton doth repose this night. O that it were the blessed will of God, that thou and I were within twenty mile of it, on Salisbury plain! I would lose my head if ever thou brought'st thy head hither again. My Lord Warden o'th' cinque Ports, & my Lord of Rochester, ye are joint Commissioners, favour me so much, On my expense to bring me to the king. What, to Southampton? Thither my god Lord, And if he do not clear me of all guilt, And all suspicion of conspiracy, Pawning his princely warrant for my truth: I ask no favour, but extremest torture. Bring me, or send me to him, good my Lord, Good my Lord Warden, M Shrieve, entreat. Come hither lady, nay, sweet wife forbear, To heap one sorrow on another's neck, 'tis grief enough falsely to be accused, And not permitted to acquit myself, Do not thou with thy kind respective tears, Torment thy husband's heart that bleeds for thee, But be of comfort, God hath help in store, For those that put assured trust in him. Dear wife, if they commit me to the Tower, Come up to London to your sister's house: That being near me, you may comfort me. One solace find I settled in my soul, That I am free from treasons very thought, Only my conscience for the Gospels sake, Is cause of all the troubles I sustain. O my dear Lord, what shall betide of us? You to the Tower, and I turned out of doors, Our substance ceased unto his highness use, Even to the garments longing to our backs. Patience good madame, things at worst will mend, And if they do not, yet our lives may end. Urge it no more, for if an Angel spoke, I swear by sweet saint Peter's blessed keys, First goes he to the Tower, then to the stake. But by your leave, this warrant doth not stretch To imprison her. No, turn her out of doors, even as she is, and lead him to the Tower, With guard enough for fear of rescuing. O God requite thee thou bloodthirsty man. May it not be my Lord of Rochester? Wherein have I incurred your hate so far, That my appeal unto the King's denied?
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)
VVhat thou art, the kings hand shall testifie, Shewt him Lord Warden. Iesu defend me, Is't possible your cunning could so temper The princely disposition of his mind, To signe the damage of a royall subiect? Well, the best is, it beares an ancedate, Procured by my absence, and your malice, But I, since that, haue shewd my selfe as true, As any churchman that dare challenge me, Let me be brought before his maiestie, If he acquite me not, then do your worst. We are not bound to do kind office For any traitor, schismatike, nor heretike, The kings hand is our warrant for our worke, Who is departed on his way for France, And at Southhampton doth repose this night. O that it were the blessed will of God, that thou and I were within twenty mile of it, on Salisbury plaine! I would lose my head if euer thou broughtst thy head hither againe. My Lord Warden o'th cinque Ports, & my Lord of Rochester, ye are ioynt Commissioners, fauor me so much, On my expence to bring me to the king. What, to Southhampton? Thither my god Lord, And if he do not cleere me of al guilt, And all suspition of conspiracie, Pawning his princely warrant for my truth: I aske no fauour, but extreamest torture. Bring me, or send me to him, good my Lord, Good my Lord Warden, M Shrieue, entreate. Come hither lady, nay, sweet wife forbeare, To heape one sorrow on anothers necke, Tis griefe enough falsly to be accusde, And not permitted to acquite my selfe, Do not thou with thy kind respectiue teares, Torment thy husbands heart that bleedes for thee, But be of comfort, God hath help in store, For those that put assured trust in him. Deere wife, if they commit me to the Tower, Come vp to London to your sisters house: That being neere me, you may comfort me. One solace find I setled in my soule, That I am free from treasons very thought, Only my conscience for the Gospels sake, Is cause of all the troubles I sustaine. O my deere Lord, what shall betide of vs? You to the Tower, and I turnd out of doores, Our substance ceaz'd vnto his highnesse vse, Euen to the garments longing to our backes. Patience good madame, things at worst will mend, And if they doe not, yet our liues may end. Vrge it no more, for if an Angell spake, I sweare by sweet saint Peters blessed keyes, First goes he to the Tower, then to the stake. But by your leaue, this warrant doth not stretch To imprison her. No, turne her out of doores, Euen as she is, and leade him to the Tower, With guard enough for feare of rescuing. O God requite thee thou bloud-thirsty man. May it not be my Lord of Rochester? Wherein haue I incurd your hate so farre, That my appeale vnto the King's denide?