Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1604 [1603-1604] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T43 York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T43: henry, king, richard, warwick, york, edward, father, duke, crown, son.
With all my heart, we'll leave him with you sir, and I am sorry far for your heaviness. So this goes well, once I'll be blunt again. For now the times draws on of his awake. I never slept more sound in my life, But stay, how comes my hands so bloody, So is my face, me thinks, stay here's my man. Why how now blunt why stars thou so upon me, are you alive sir, Didst thou set any body to kill me. Not I sir but wicked Florance did, And haddest been slain, had it not been for me, Sentloe behold thou Harbert and thy friend, That thus hath waited on thee like thy man, To save thee from a thousand miseries, I am a amazed, and know not what to say O my dear Harbart: O my loving friend. Leave of imbracments till some other time, The king is come to Bristol, newly landed, Come as we go along I'll tell thee all, Things wonderful that yet thou dreamest not off. All hail thou blessed bosom of my peace, Richard finds instance of his home return, Bristol, thou happy road where first Island, Doth welcome me now from the holy land. Send word to London of our safe arrival, While we awhile in Bristol here repose us. Fame with her brazen trump hath born this tidings hither. And Bristol with their Citizens express, Their gladness by their triumph, at your safety. And we with you will put these triumphs on, But for this unlucky accident, Which makes old Eustice and Vmphrevil sad Which grieves me for the noble gentlemen. By blessed Saint Paul my liedg I cannot brook it to see my child, my air, my Anabell, this here: what a wretch was this? Now by saint Charity if I were judge, a halter were the least should hamper him. though nature wrassels with my stayed reason, and wills me plead for mercy for my son, yet justice with impartial wings directs, My thoughts from pity, and my words for right, My liedg to make an entrance to your fame, Regard Vmphreviles wrong, punish my son, I cannot lose him better than by law, Nor is he lost that doth example give, Of sweet amends to such as lewdly live. Virtue commends thy course, and patience his, In both I pity, what you both desire, If justice could be glazed with pities wings, Call for the prisoner, let us crown the time, With justice, for these honourable men. Have mercy Richard, mercy in a king, Is like the peerless Diamond set in gold, he out of envy and of fury speaks, I out of love and passion plead for him. What pleasing advocate hath pity raised, To plead the prisoners cause, himself not there. One that doth bear the greatest grief of all, The hapless wife of woeful Vallenger. Why thou art wronged, therefore shouldest claim, Revenge for thee, and justice for thy husband.
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)
With all my hart, weel leaue him with you ſir, and I am ſory fer for your heauines. So this goes well, once Ile be blont again. For now the times drawes on of his awake. I neuer ſlept more ſoundly in my life, But ſtay, how comes my hands ſoe blody, So is my face, me thinkes, ſtay heres my man. Why how now blont why ſtares thou ſo vpon me, are you aliue ſir, Didſt thou ſet any body to kill me. Not I ſir but wicked Florance did, And hadeſt bin ſlaine, had it not bin for me, Sentloe behould thou Harbert and thy friend, That thus hath wayted on thée like thy man, To ſaue thée from a thouſand miſeries, I am a maſd, and knowe not what to ſay O my deare Harbart: O my louing frend. Leaue of imbracments till ſome other time, The king is com to Briſtow, newly landed, Come as we goe along Ile tell thée all, Things wonderfull that yet thou dreamſt not off. All haile thou bleſſed boſome of my peace, Richard findes inſtance of his home returne, Briſtow, thou hapie rode where firſt Iland, Doth welcome me now from the holy land. Send word to London of our ſafe ariuall, While we awhile in Briſtow heere repoſe vs. Fame with her braſen trump hath born this tidings hether. And Briſtow with their Cittizens expreſſe, Their gladnes by their tryumphe, at your ſafetie. And we with you will put theſe triumphs on, But for this vnlucky accident, Which makes old Euſtice and Vmphreuil ſad Which grieues me for the noble gentlemen. By bleſſed Saint Paule my liedg I cannot brook it to ſée my child, my aire, my Anabell, this heere: what a wretch was this? Now by ſaint Charity if I were iudge, a halter were the leaſt ſhould hamper him. Tho nature wraſſels with my ſtaied reaſon, and willes me plead for mercie for my ſon, yet iuſtice with impartiall wings directs, My thoughts from pitty, and my words for right, My liedg to make an entrance to your fame, Regard Vmphreviles wrong, puniſh my ſon, I cannot loſe him better then by law, Nor is he loſt that doth example giue, Of ſweet amends to ſuch as leudly liue. Vertue commends thy courſe, and patience his, In both I pitty, what you both deſire, If iuſtice could be glaſed with pitties wings, Call for the priſoner, let vs crowne the time, With iuſtice, for theſe honorable men. Haue mercy Richard, mercy in a king, Is like the péereles Diamond ſet in gold, he out of enuy and of fury ſpeaks, I out of loue and paſſion plead for him. What pleaſing aduocate hath pitty raiſ'd, To plead the priſoners cauſe, himſelfe not there. One that doth beare the greateſt griefe of all, The haples wife of wofull Vallenger. Why thou art wrong'd, therfore ſhouldeſt claime, Reueng for thée, and iuſtice for thy huſband.