Norton, Thomas / Sackville, Thomas · published 1565 · first performed or written 1562 [Jan 18] (Annals) tragedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
Ah love, my friends, love wrongs not whom he loves. Ne yet he wrongeth you that giveth you So large a reign ere that the course of time Bring you to kingdom by descended right, Which time perhaps might end your time before. Is this no wrong, say you, to reave from me My native right to half so great a realm, And thus to match his younger son with me In equal power, and in as great degree: Yea & what son? the son whose swelling pride Would never yield one point of reverence, When I the Elder and apparent heir Stood in the likelihood to possess the whole Yea and that son which from his childish age Envieth mine honour, and doth hate my life, What will he now do? when his pride, his rage, The mindful malice of his grudging heart Is armed with force, with wealth and kingly state Was this not wrong? yea ill advised wrong To give so mad a man so sharp a sword, To so great peril of so great mishap, Wide open thus to set so large a way. Alas my Lord, what griefful thing is this? That of your brother you can think so ill I never saw him utter likely sign Whereby a man might see or once misdeem Such hate of you, ne such unyielding pride Ill is their counsel, shameful be their end, That raising such mistrustful fear in you, Sowing the seed of such unkindly hate, Travail by reason to destroy you both:) Wise is your brother and of noble hope, Worthy to weld a large and mighty Realm So much a stronger friend have you thereby, Whose strength is your strength, if you 'gree in one. If nature and the Gods had pinched so Their flowing bounty and their noble gifts Of Princely qualities from you my Lord And powered them all at ones in wasteful wise Upon your father's younger son alone: Perhaps there be that in your prejudice Would say that birth should yield to worthiness: But sith in each good gift and Princely Act Ye are his match, and in the chief of all In mildness and in sober governance Ye far surmount: And sith there is in you Sufficing skill and hopeful towardness To wield the whole, and match you Elders praise I see no cause why ye should lose the half, Ne would I wish you yield to such a loss: Lest your mild sufferance of so great a wrong Be deemed cowardish and simple dread: Which shall give courage to the fiery head Of your young Brother to invade the whole, Whiles yet therefore sticks in the people's mind The loathed wrong of your disheritance, And ere your Brother have by settled power, By guile full cloak of an alluring show, Got him some force and favour in this Realm And while the noble Queen your mother lives, To work and practice all for your avail Attempt redress by Arms, and wreak yourself
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)
Ah loue, my frendes, loue wrongs not whom he loues. Ne yet he wrongeth you that geueth you So large a reigne ere that the courſe of tyme Bringe you to kingdome by diſcended right, Which time perhaps might end your time before. Is this no wrong, ſaie you, to reaue from me My natiue right to halfe ſo great a realme, And thus to matche his yonger ſonne with me In egall power, and in as great degree: Yea & what ſonne? ye ſonne whoſe ſwellyng pryde Woulde neuer yelde one poinct of reuerence, Whan I the Elder and apparaunt heire Stoode in the likelyhode to poſſeſſe the whole Yea and that ſonne whiche from his childiſhe age Enuieth myne honour, and doth hate my life, What will he nowe do? when his pride, his rage, The mindefull malice of his grudging harte Is armed with force, with wealth and kingly ſtate Was this not wrong? yea yll aduiſed wrong To giue ſo mad a man ſo ſharpe a ſworde, To ſo great perill of ſo great miſhappe, Wide open thus to ſet ſo large a waye. Alas my Lorde, what griefull thing is this? That of your brother you can thinke ſo ill I neuer ſawe him vtter likelie ſigne Whereby a man might ſee or once miſdeme Suche hate of you, ne ſuche vnyeldinge pride Ill is their counſell, ſhamefull be their ende, That raiſing ſuche miſtruſtfull feare in you, Sowing the ſeede of ſuche vnkindly hate, Trauaile by reaſon to deſtroy you both:) Wiſe is your brother and of noble hope, Worthie to welde a large and mightie Realme So muche a ſtronger frende haue you therby, Whoſe ſtrēgth is your ſtrēgth, if you gree in one. If nature and the Goddes had pinched ſo Their flowing bountie and their noble giftes Of Princelie qualyties from you my Lorde And powrde them all at ones in waſtfull wiſe Vpon your fathers younger ſonne alone: Perhappes there be that in your preiudice Would ſaie that birth ſhuld yeld to worthines: But ſithe in eche good gift and Princelie Acte Ye are his matche, and in the chiefe of all In mildenes and in ſobre gouernauce Ye farre ſurmount: And ſithe there is in you Sufficing ſkill and hopefull towardnes To weld the whole, and match you Elders praiſe I ſee no cauſe whie ye ſhould looſe the halfe, Ne wold I wiſſhe you yelde to ſuche a loſſe: Leſt your milde ſufferaunce of ſo great a wronge Be deemed cowardiſhe and ſimple dreade: Whiche ſhall geue courage to the fierie head Of your yonge Brother to inuade the whole, Whiles yet therfore ſtickes in the peoples mynde The lothed wronge of your diſheritaunce, And ere your Brother haue by ſettled power, By guyle full cloke of an allurynge ſhowe, Got him ſome force and fauour in this Realme And while the noble Queene your mother lyues, To worke and practice all for your auaile Attempt redreſſe by Armes, and wreake your ſelfe