Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · 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 · 492 words · other edition — not in the analysis
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, whether 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. here come the heavy Issue of dead Harrie: O, that the living Harrie had the temper Of him, the worst of these three Gentlemen: How many Nobles then, should hold their places, That must strike sail, to Spirits of vild sort? Alas, I fear, all will be overturned. Good morrow Cousin Warwick, good morrow. Cla. 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 sorrier, would 'twere 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' Imperial Conduct of my Soul, And never shall you see, that I will beg A ragged, and forestalled Remission. If Troth, 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 heaven save your Majesty This new, and gorgeous Garment, Majesty, Sits not so easy on me, as you think. Brothers, you mix your Sadness with some Fear: This is the English, not the Turkish Court: Not Amurah, an Amurah succeeds, But Harry, Harry: Yet be sad (good Brothers) For (to speak truth) 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; But weep that Horrie's dead, and so will I. But Harry lives, that shall convert those Tears By number, into hours of Happiness. We hope no other 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 Maſter Shallow, I come Maſter Shallow. How now, my Lord Chiefe Iuſtice, whether away? How doth the King? Exceeding well: his Cares Are now, all ended. I hope, not dead. Hee's walk'd the way of Nature, And to our purpoſes, he liues no more. I would his Maieſty had call'd me with him, The ſeruice, that I truly did his life, Hath left me open to all iniuries. Indeed 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, Then I haue drawne it in my fantaſie. Heere come the heauy Iſſue of dead Harrie: O, that the liuing Harrie had the temper Of him, the worſt of theſe three Gentlemen: How many Nobles then, ſhould hold their places, That muſt ſtrike ſaile, to Spirits of vilde ſort? Alas, I feare, all will be ouer-turn'd. Good morrow Coſin Warwick, good morrow. Cla. Good morrow, Coſin. We meet, 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, leaſt we be heauier. O, good my Lord, you haue loſt a friend indeed: And I dare ſweare, you borrow not that face Of ſeeming ſorrow, it is ſure your owne. Though no man be aſſur'd what grace to finde, You ſtand in coldeſt expectation. I am the ſorrier, would 'twere otherwiſe. Wel, you muſt now ſpeake Sir Iohn Falstaffe faire, Which ſwimmes againſt your ſtreame of Quality. Sweet Princes: what I did, I did in Honor, Led by th' Imperiall Conduct of my Soule, And neuer ſhall you ſee, that I will begge A ragged, and fore-ſtall'd Remiſſion. If Troth, and vpright Innocency fayle me, Ile to the King (my Maſter) that is dead, And tell him, who hath ſent me after him. Heere comes the Prince. Good morrow: and heauen ſaue your Maieſty This new, and gorgeous Garment, Maieſty, Sits not ſo eaſie on me, as you thinke. Brothers, you mixe your Sadneſſe with ſome Feare: This is the Engliſh, not the Turkiſh Court: Not Amurah, an Amurah ſucceeds, But Harry, Harry: Yet be ſad (good Brothers) For (to ſpeake truth) 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 burthen, laid vpon vs all. For me, by Heauen (I bid you be aſſur'd) Ile be your Father, and your Brother too: Let me but beare your Loue, Ile beare your Cares; But weepe that Horrie's dead, and ſo will I. But Harry liues, that ſhall conuert thoſe Teares By number, into houres of Happineſſe. We hope no other from your Maieſty.