Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T43: henry, king, richard, warwick, york, edward, father, duke, crown, son.
The wars sweet King, 'tis my delight, my desire, my chair of state, create me but a tattered Corporal, and give me some pre-eminence over the vulgar Hotshots, and I beat them not forward to as brave attempts, and march myself i' th' Vanguard, as ere carried against a Castle wall, break my head in two places more, and consume me with the mouth of a double culvering, I'll live and die with thee sweet King. 'twill be your best course sir, go take him in, When we have need of men, we'll send for him. God bless your majesty, i'll go drink to your health. begone: sir, keeper I thank you for our lodging, Nay indeed I do, I know had ye known us, it had been better, Pray tell the Constable that brought us hither, We thank him, and commend his faithful service, Gentlemen let's hear from you, & so God morrow, Keeper, there's for my fees, discharge the offices: And give them charge that none discover us, Till we are past the city: in this disguise we came. we'll keep us still, and so depart again. Once more God morrow, you may now report, Your connter was one night king Henry's court. Away and leave us, Brandon what further news? The old king of France is dead my Liege, And left your sister Mary a young widow. God forbid man, what not so soon I hope, She has not yet been married forty days: Is this news certain? Most true my Lord. Alas poor Mary, so soon a widow, Before thy wedding robes be half worn out: We must then prepare black funeral garments too, Well, we'll have her home, the league is broke: And we'll not trust her safety with the French. Charles Brandon, you shall go to France for her, See that your train be richly furnished, And if the daring French, brave thee in attempts Of honour, Barriers, Tilt, and & tournament: So to retain her, bore thee like thyself, An English man, dreadless of the proudest: And highly scorning lowly hardiness I shall my Sovereign, and in her honour, I'll cast a challenge through all the court: And dare the proudest Peer in France for her. Commend me to the Lady Catherine Parry, Give her this Ring, tell her on sunday next She shall be Queen, and crowned at Westminster: And Anne of Cleve shall be sent home again: Come sirs, we'll leave the city, and the counter now, The day begins to break, let's high to court. And once a quarter we desire such sport. My reverent Lord of London, Our trusty friend, the king of France is dead, And in his death, our hopes are hindered: The Emperor too, mislikes his praises, But we shall cross him for't I doubt it not: And tread upon his pomp imperial, That thus hath wronged the English Cardinal. Your grace's letters by Campeus sent, I doubt not but shall work your full content.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T50 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The wars sweet King, tis my delight, my desire, my chaire of state▪ create me but a attord Corporall, and giue me sme preheminee ouer the vulgar hot-shots, and I beat them not forward to as braue attempts, and march my selfe I th Vantguard▪ as ere carried against a Castle wall, break my head in two places more, and consume me with the mouth of a double cluering, Ie liue and dye with thee sweet King. Twill be your best course sir, goe take him in, VVhen we haue need of men, weele send for him. God blese your maiestie, ile goe drinke to your health. Begon: sir, keeper I thanke you for our lodging, Nay indeed I doe, I know had ye known vs, it had bin better, Praie tell the Constable that brought vs hither, We thanke him, and commend his faithful seruice, Gentlemen lets heare from you, & so God morrow, Keeper, theres for my fees, discharge the offices: And giue them charge that none discouer vs, Till we are past the citie: in this disguise we came. Weele keepe vs still, and so depart againe. Once more God morrow, you may now report, Your connter was one night king Heries court. Away and leaue vs, Brandon what further newes? The old king of France is dead my Liege, And left your sister Mary a young widdow. God forbid man, what not so soone I hope, She has not yet bin married fortie daies: Is this newes certaine? Most true my Lord. Alas poore Mary, so soone a widdow, Before thy wedding robes be halfe worne out: We must then prepare black funerall garments too, Well, weele haue her home, the league i broake: And weele not trust her safetie with the French. Charles Brandon▪ you shall goe to France for her, See that your traine be richly furnished, And if the daring French, braue thee in attempts Of honour, Barriers, Tilt, and & Tarnament: So to retaine her, bare thee like thy selfe, An English man, dreadlesse of the prowdest: And highly scorning lowly hardinesse I shall my Soueraigne, and in her honour, Ile cast a challenge through all the court: And dare the prodest Peere in France for her. Commend me to the Ladie Caterine Parry, Giue her this Ring, tell her on sunday next She shall be Queene, and crownde at Wstminster: And Ae of Cleae shall be sent home againe: Come syrs, weele leaue the citie, and the counter now, The day begins to breake, les hye to court. And once a quarer we desire such sport. My reuerent Lord of Lond, Ou trustie friend, the king of France is dead, And in his death, our hopes are hindred: The Emperour too, mislikes his praises, But we shall crosse him fort I doubt it not: And tread vpon his pompe imperiall, That thus hath wrongde the English Cardinall. Your graces letters by Campeans sent, I doubt not but shall worke your full content.