Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1597-1598] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Sir Iohn. I come master Shallow. I come master Shallow. How now, my lord chief justice, whither away? How doth the King? Exceeding well, his cares are now all ended. I hope not dead. he's walked the way of nature, And to our purposes he lives no more. I would his Majesty had called me with him: The service that I truly did his life, Hath left me open to all injuries. Indeed I think the young King loves you not. I know he doth not, and do arm myself To welcome the condition of the time, Which cannot look more hideously upon me, Than I have drawn it in my fantasy. Hear come the heavy issue of dead Harry: O that the living Harry had the temper Of he, the worst of these three gentlemen! How many Nobles than should hold their places, That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort? O God, I fear all will be overturnd. Good morrow cousin Warwick, good morrow. Good morrow cousin. We meet like men that had forgot to speak. We do remember, but our argument Is all too heavy to admit much talk. Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy. Peace be with us, lest we be heavier. O good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed, And I dare swear you borrow not that face Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your own. Though no man be assured what grace to find, You stand in coldest expectation, I am the forier, would 'ttwere otherwise. Well, you must now speak sir Iohn Falstaff fair, Which swims against your stream of quality. Sweet princes, what I did, I did in honour, Led by th●impartiall conduct of my soul. And never shall you see that I will beg A ragged and forestald remission, If truth and upright innocency fail me. I'll to the King my master that is dead, And tell him who hath sent me after him▪ Here comes the Prince. Good morrow, and God save your majesty. This new and gorgeous garment Majesty Sits not so easy on me, as you think: Brothers, you mixed your sadness with some fear, This is the English, not the Turkish court. Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, But Harry Harry: yet be sad, good brothers, For by my faith it very well becomes you: Sorrow so royally in you appears, That I will deeply put the fashion on, And wear it in my heart: why then be sad. But entertain no more of it, good brothers, Then a joint burden laid upon us all, For me, by heaven (I bid you be assured) I'll be your father, and your brother too, Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares: Yet weep that Harry's dead, and so will I, But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears By number into hours of happiness. We hope no otherwise from your majesty.
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)
Sir Iohn. I come maister Shallow. I come master Shallow. How now, my lord chiefe Iustice, whither away? How doth the King? Exceeding well, his cares are now all ended. I hope not dead. Hees walkt the way of nature, And to our purposes he liues no more. I would his Maiestie had calld me with him: The seruice that I truely did his life, Hath left me open to all iniuries. Indeede I thinke the yong King loues you not. I know he doth not, and do arme my selfe To welcome the condition of the time, Which cannot looke more hideously vpon me, Than I haue drawne it in my fantasie. Heere come the heauy issue of dead Harry: O that the liuing Harry had the temper Of he, the worst of these three gentlemen! How many Nobles then should holde their places, That must strike saile to spirites of vile sort? O God, I feare all will be ouer-turnd. Good morrow coosin Warwicke, good morrow. Good morrow coosin. We meete like men that had forgot to speake. We do remember, but our argument Is all too heauy to admit much talke. Well, peace be with him that hath made vs heauy. Peace be with vs, lest we be heauier. O good my lord, you haue lost a friend indeede, And I dare sweare you borrow not that face Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your owne. Though no man be assurde what grace to finde, You stand in coldest expectation, I am the forier, would twere otherwise. Well, you must now speake sir Iohn Falstaffe faire, Which swimmes against your streame of quallitie. Sweet princes, what I did, I did in honor, Led by thimpartiall conduct of my soule. And neuer shall you see that I will begge A ragged and forestald remission, If truth and vpright innocencie faile me. Ile to the King my maister that is dead, And tell him who hath sent me after him▪ Here comes the Prince. Good morrow, and God saue your maiestie. This new and gorgeous garment Maiesty Sits not so easie on me, as you thinke: Brothers, you mixt your sadnesse with some feare, This is the English, not the Turkish court. Not Amurath an Amurath succeedes, But Harry Harry: yet be sad, good brothers, For by my faith it very well becomes you: Sorrow so royally in you appeares, That I will deeply put the fashion on, And weare it in my heart: why then be sad. But entertaine no more of it, good brothers, Then a ioynt burden layd vpon vs all, For me, by heauen (I bid you be assurde) Ile be your father, and your brother too, Let me but beare your loue, Ile beare your cares: Yet weepe that Harries dead, and so will I, But Harry liues, that shal conuert those teares By number into howres of happinese. We hope no otherwise from your maiesty.