Anonymous · published 1606 · first performed or written 1605 [1603-1606] (Annals) history; satire · Queen Anne's Men T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an typicality 0.82 · 498 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
And I may be a wretch: poor Archigallo, The sight of thee that wert my Sovereign, In this estate, draws rivers from mine eyes. Will you be king again? if they agree I'll redeliver all my royalty, Save what a second brother and a subject Keeps in an humble bosom, for I swear The Crown is yours that Elidure doth wear. Then give it me; use not the common sleights, To pity one, and keep away his right. Seest thou these rags, do they become my person? O Elidure, take pity on my state, Let me not still live thus infortunate. Alas, if pity could procure your good, Instead of water, I'd weep tears of blood To express both love and pity: say dear brother I should uncrown myself, the angry Peers Will never let me reach the imperial wreath To Archigallo's head. There's ancient Cornwell, Stout Martianus, Morgan, and bold Malgo, From whom you took the pleasant Southern I'll, Will never kneel to you: what should I say, Your tyranny was cause of your decay. What shall I die then? welcome be that fate Rather than still live in this wretched state. Yonder's the King; my sovereign you have lost The fall of a brave stag, he's dead my liege. What fellows this? Knowest him not Cornwell? No my liege not I. I am thy King. 'tis Archigallo man. Thou art no king of mine, thou art a traitor, Thy life is forfeit by thy stay in Britain. Wert thou not banished? Noble Cornwell speak More gently, or my piteous heart will break, Lord Martianus, Morgan, and the rest, I am a weary of my government, And willingly resign it to my brother. Your brother was a tyrant, and my knee Shall never bow to wrong and tyranny. Yet look upon his misery, his tears Argue repentance; think not honoured Lords The fear of dangers waiting on my Crown Makes me so willing to resign the same, For I am loved I know, but justice bids I make a resignation, 'tis his right, My calls but usurpation. Elidure, If you are weary of your government, We'll set the Crown upon a stranger's head Rather than Archigallo. Hark ye Lords, Shall we make him our King we did depose, So might our heads be chopped of, I'll lose mine Ere my poor Country shall endure such wrongs, As that injurious tyrant plagues her with, Keep still your Crown my Liege, happy is Britain Under the government of Elidure. Let it be so, Death is the happy period of all woe. The wretch that's torn upon the torturing wrack, Feels not more devilish torment then my heart. When I but call to mind my tyranny, I record heaven my Lords, my brother's fight, The pity that he takes of my distress, Your love and true allegiance unto him, Hath wrought in me a reconciled spirit, I do confess my sin, and freely say, I did deserve to be deposed.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And I may be a wretch: poore Archigallo, The sight of thee that wert my Soueraigne, In this estate, drawes riuers from mine eyes. VVill you be king againe? if they agree Ile redeliuer all my royaltie, Saue what a second brother and a subiect Keepes in an humble bosome, for I sweare The Crowne is yours that Elidure doth weare. Then giue it me; vse not the common sleights, To pittie one, and keepe away his right. Seest thou these ragges, doe they become my person? O Elidure, take pittie on my state, Let me not still liue thus infortunate. Alas, if pittie could procure your good, Insteed of water, Ide weepe teares of blood To expresse both loue and pittie: say deere brother I should vncrowne my selfe, the angry Peeres VVill neuer let me reach the imperiall wreathe To Archigalloes head. There's ancient Cornwell, Stout Martianus, Morgan, and bold Malgo, From whom you tooke the pleasant Southerne Ile, VVill neuer kneele to you: what should I say, Your tirannie was cause of your decay. What shall I die then? welcome be that fate Rather then still liue in this wretched state. Yonders the King; my soueraigne you haue lost The fall of a braue stagge, he's dead my liedge. VVhat fellowes this? Knowest him not Cornwell? No my liedge not I. I am thy King. Tis Archigallo man. Thou art no king of mine, thou art a traytor, Thy life is forfeit by thy stay in Brittaine. VVert thou not banisht? Noble Cornwell speake More gently, or my piteous hart will breake, Lord Martianus, Morgan, and the rest, I am a wearie of my gouernment, And willinglie resigne it to my brother. Your brother was a tyrant, and my knee Shall neuer bow to wrong and tirannie. Yet looke vpon his misery, his teares Argue repentance; thinke not honourd Lords The feare of dangers waiting on my Crowne Makes me so willing to resigne the same, For I am lou'd I know, but iustice bids I make a resignation, tis his right, My calls but vsurpation. Elidure, If you are wearie of your gouernment, Wele set the Crowne vpon a strangers head Rather then Archigallo. Harke ye Lords, Shall we make him our King we did depose, So might our heads be chopt of, Ile loose mine Ere my poore Country shall endure such wrongs, As that iniurious tyrant plagues her with, Keepe still your Crowne my Liedge, happy is Brittaine Vnder the gouernment of Elidure. Let it be so, Death is the happy period of all woe. The wretch thats torne vpon the torturing wrack, Feeles not more desh torment then my hart. When I but call to minde my tirannie, I record heauen my Lords, my brothers fight, The pittie that he takes of my distresse, Your loue and true allegiance vnto him, Hath wrought in me a reconciled spirit, I doe confesse my sinne, and freely say, I did deserue to be deposd.