The Famous History of Sir Thomas Wyatt · chunk 1 of 22
Heywood, Thomas / Dekker, Thomas / Chettle, Henry / Webster, John · published 1607 · first performed or written 1602 (Annals) history · Worcester's Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
HOw fares the King, my Lord? speaks he cheerly? even as a dying man, whose life Like to quick lighting, which is no sooner seen, but is extinct. Is the Kings will confirmed? ay, that's the point that we level at. But oh, the confirmation of that will, 'tis all, 'tis all. That will confirm my Daughter Queen. Right, & my Son is married to your daughter. My Lord, in an even plain way, I will Derive the Crown unto your daughter's head. What though the King hath left behind, Two Sisters, lawful and immediate heirs, To succeed him in his Throne Lies it not In our powers to contradict it? Have we not the King and counsel's hands unto it? Tut, we stand high in man's opinion, And the worlds broad eye. Here comes Sir Thomas Wyatt. Sir Thomas booted and spurred, whether away so fast? It boots me not to stay, When in this land rebellion bears such sway. God's will, a Court! 'tis changed Since Noble Henry's days. You have set your hands unto a will. 'a will you well may call it: So wils Northumberland: So wils great Suffolk, Against God's will, to wrong those Princely Maids. Will you not subscribe your hand with other of the Lords? Not with me, that in my hands, Surprise the Sovereignty? I'll damned my soul for no man, no for no man, who at dooms day must answer for my sin: Not you, nor you my Lords, Who named Queen Iane in noble Henry's days, Which of you all durst once displace his issue? My Lords, my Lords, you whet your knives so sharp, To carve your meat, That they will cut your fingers. The strength is weakness that you build upon, The King is sick, God mend him, ay, God mend him: But were his soul from his pale body free, Adieu my Lords, the Court no court for me. Farewell, I fear thee not. The Fly is angry, but he wants a sting, And all the Counsel: only this perverse And peevish Lord, hath only denied his hand To the investing of your princely Daughter. he's idle, and wants power. Our Ocean shall these petty brooks devour, Here comes his highness Doctor. How fares his Highness? His body is past help. We have left our practice to the Divines, That they may cure his soul Past physics help, why then past hope of life, Here comes his highness Preacher: Life reverent man. Life, life, though death his body do dissever, Our King lives with the King of heaven for ever. Dead! send for Heralds, call me Pursuivants, where's the King at arms? in every market town Proclaim Queen Iane. Best to take the opinion of the Counsel. You are too timorous. We in ourselves Are power sufficient: the King being dead. This hand shall place the crown On Queen Ianes head. Trumpets and Drums, with your notes resound, Her royal name, that must in state be crowned.
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)
HOw fares the King, my Lord? speakes he cheerely? Euen as a dying man, whose life Like to quicke lighting, which is no sooner seene, but is extinct. Is the Kings will confirm'd? I, thats the point that we leuel at. But oh, the confirmation of that will, tis all, tis all. That will confirme my Daughter Queene. Right, & my Sonne is marryed to your daughter. My Lord, in an euen plaine way, I will Deriue the Crowne vnto your Daughters head. What though the King hath left behinde, Two Sisters, lawfull and immediate heires, To succeed him in his Throane Lyes it not In our powers to contradict it? Haue we not the King and Counsels hands vnto it? Tut, wee stand high in mans opinion, And the worldes broad eye. Heere comes Sir Thomas Wyat. Sir Thomas booted and spur'd, whether away so fast? It bootes me not to stay, When in this land rebellion beares such sway. Gods will, a Court! Tis chang'd Since Noble Henries daies. You haue set your handes vnto a will. A will you well may call it: So wils Northumberland: So wils great Suffolke, Against Gods will, to wrong those Princely Maides. Will you not subscribe your hand with other of the Lords? Not with me, that in my handes, Surprise the Soueraigntie? Ile damb'd my soule for no man, no for no man, who at doomes day must answere for my sinne: Not you, nor you my Lordes, Who nam'de Queene Iane in noble Henries daies, Which of you all durst once displace his issue? My Lords, my Lords, you whet your kniues so sharp, To carue your meate, That they will cut your fingars. The strength is weakenesse that you builde vpon, The King is sicke, God mend him, I, God mend him: But were his soule from his pale body free, Adieu my Lords, the Court no court for me. Farwell, I feare thee not. The Fly is angrie, but hee wants a sting, And all the Counsell: onely this peruerse And peeuish Lord, hath onely deny'd his hand To the inuesting of your princely Daughter. Hee's idle, and wants power. Our Ocean shall these petty brookes deuoure, Heere comes his Highnesse Doctor. How fares his Highnesse? His body is past helpe. We haue left our practice to the Diuines, That they may cure his soule Past phisickes helpe, why then past hope of life, Heere comes his Highnesse Preacher: Life reuerent man. Life, life, though death his body doe disseuer, Our King liues with the King of heauen for euer. Dead! send for Heralds, call me Purseuants, Wher's the King at armes? in euerie market towne Proclaime Queene Iane. Best to take the opinion of the Counsell. You are too timorous. We in our selues Are power sufficient: the King being dead. This hand shall place the crowne On Queene Ianes head. Trumpets and Drums, with your notes resound, Her royal name, that must in state be crown'd.