The True Chronicle of King Leir (King Lear and his Three Daughters) · chunk 42 of 43
Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1590 [c.1588-1594] (Annals) history · Queen Elizabeth's Men (?) unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
we'll fast and pray, whilst you for us do fight, That victory may prosecute the right. methinks, your words do amplify (my friends) And add fresh vigour to my willing limbs: But hark, I hear the adverse Drum approach. God and our right, Saint Denis, and Saint George, Presumptuous King of Gauls, how darest thou Presume to enter on our British shore? And more than that, to take our towns perforce, And draw our subjects hearts from their true King? Be sure to buy it at as dear a price, As ere you bought presumption in your lives. o'erdaring Cornwall, know, we came in right. And just revengement of the wronged King, Whose daughters there, fell vipers as they are, Have sought to murder and deprive of life: But God protected him from all their spite, And we are come in justice of his right. Nor he nor thou have any interest here, But what you win and purchase with the sword. Thy slanders to our noble virtuous Queens, we'll in the battle thrust them down thy throat, Except for fear of our revenging hands, Thou fly to sea, as not secure on lands. Welshman, i'll so ferret you ere night for that word, That you shall have no mind to crack so well this twelvemonth. They lie, that say, we sought our father's death. 'tis merely forged for a colour's sake, To set a gloss on your invasion. methinks, an old man ready for to die, Should be ashamed to broach so foul a lie. Fie shameless sister, so devoid of grace, To call our father liar to his face. Peace (Puritan) dissembling hypocrite, Which art so good, that thou wilt prove stark nought: Anon, whenas I have you in my fingers, I'll make you wish yourself in Purgatory. Nay, peace thou monster, shame unto thy sex: Thou fiend in likeness of a human creature. I never heard a fouler spoken man. Out on thee, viper, scum, filthy parricide, More odious to my sight then is a Toad, Knowest thou these letters? Think you to outface me with your paltry scrolls? You come to drive my husband from his right, Under the colour of a forged letter. whoever heard the like impiety? You are our debtor of more patience: We were more patient when we stayed for you, Within the thicket two long hours and more. What hours? what thicket? There, where you sent your servant with your letters, Sealed with your hand, to send us both to heaven, Where, as I think, you never mean to come. Alas, you are grown a child again with age, Or else your senses dote for want of sleep. Indeed you made us rise betimes, you know, Yet had a care we should sleep where you bade us stay, But never wake more till the latter day.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T13 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Weele fast and pray, whilst you for vs do fight, That victory may prosecute the right. Me thinks, your words do amplify (my friends) And adde freth vigor to my willing limmes: But harke, I heare the aduerse Drum approch. God and our right, Saint Denis, and Saint George, Presumptuous King of Gawles, how darest thou Presume to enter on our Brittish shore? And more then that, to take our townes perforce, And draw our subiects hearts from their true King? Be sute to buy it at as deare a price, As ere you bought presumption in your liues. Ore-daring Cornwall, know, we came in right. And iust reuengement of the wronged King, Whose daughters there, fell vipers as they are, Haue sought to murder and depriue of life: But God protected him from all their spight, And we are come in iustice of his right. Nor he nor thou haue any interest here, But what you win and purchase with the sword. Thy slaunders to our noble vertuous Queenes, Wee'l in the battell thrust them down thy throte, Except for feare of our reuenging hands, Thou flye to sea, as not secure on lands. Welshman, ile so frit you ere night for that word, That you shall haue no mind to crake so wel this tweluemonth. They lye, that say, we sought our fathers death. Tis meerely forged for a colours sake, To set a glosse on your inuasion. Me thinks, an old man ready for to dye, Should be asham'd to breache so foule a lye. Fy shamelesle sister, so deuoyd of grace, To call our father lyer to his face. Peace (Puritan) dissembling hypocrite, Which art so good, that thou wilt proue stark naught: Anon, when as I haue you in my fingers, Ile make you wish your selfe in Purgatory. Nay, peace thou monster, shame vnto thy sexe: Thou fiend in likenesse of a humane creature. I neuer heard a fouler spoken man. Out on thee, viper, scum, filthy parricide, More odious to my sight then is a Toade, Knowest thou these letters? Think you to outface me with your paltry scrowles? You come to driue my husband from his right, Vnder the colour of a forged letter. Who euer heard the like impiety? You are our debtour of more patience: We were more patient when we stayd for you, Within the thicket two long houres and more. What houres? what thicket? There, where you sent your seruant with your letters, Seald with your hand, to send vs both to heauen, Where, as I thinke, you neuer meane to come. Alas, you are growne a child agayne with age, Or else your sences dote for want of sleepe. Indeed you made vs rise betimes, you know, Yet had a care we should sleepe where you bade vs stay, But neuer wake more till the latter day.