Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1591 [1590-1591] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
Pardon me Madam, I may not go without you to the kings. Thou mayst, thou shalt, I will not go with thee, I will instruct my sorrows to be proud, For grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop, To me and to the state of my great grief, Let kings assemble: for my greefe's so great, That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit, here is my Throne, bid kings come bow to it. 'Tis true (fair daughter) and this blessed day, Ever in France shall be kept festival: To solemnize this day the glorious sun Stays in his course, and plays the Alchemist, Turning with splendour of his precious eye The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold: The yearly course that brings this day about, Shall never see it, but a holy day. A wicked day, and not a holy day. What hath this day deserved? what hath it done, That it in golden letters should be set Among the high tides in the Calendar? Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, This day of shame, oppression, perjury. Or if it must stand still, let wives with child Pray that their burdens may not fall this day, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be crossed: But (on this day) let Seamen fear no wrack, No bargains break that are not this day made; This day all things begun, come to ill end, Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change. By heaven Lady, you shall have no cause To curse the fair proceed of this day: Have I not pawned to you my Majesty? You have beguiled me with a counterfeit Resembling Majesty, which being touched and tried, Proves valuelesse: you are forsworn, forsworn, You came in Arms to spill mine enemy's blood, But now in Arms, you strengthen it with yours. The grappling vigour, and rough frown of War Is cold in amity, and painted peace, And our oppression hath made up this league: Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured Kings, A widow cries, be husband to me (heavens) Let not the hours of this ungodly day Wear out the days in Peace; but ere Sunset, Set armed discord 'twixt these perjured Kings, Hear me, Oh, hear me. Lady Constance, peace. War, war, no peace, peace is to me a war: O Lymoges, O Austria, thou dost shame That bloody spoil: thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward, Thou little valiant, great in villainy, Thou ever strong upon the stronger side; Thou Fortune's Champion, that dost never fight But when her humourous Ladyship is by To teach thee safety: thou art perjured too, And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, A ramping fool, to brag, and stamp, and swear, Upon my party: thou cold blooded slave, Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? Been sworn my Soldier, bidding me depend Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength, And dost thou now fall over to my foes? Thou wear a Lions hide, doff it for shame, And hang a Calf's skin on those recreant limbs.
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)
Pardon me Madam, I may not goe without you to the kings. Thou maiſt, thou ſhalt, I will not go with thee, I will inſtruct my ſorrowes to bee proud, For greefe is proud, and makes his owner ſtoope, To me and to the ſtate of my great greefe, Let kings aſſemble: for my greefe's ſo great, That no ſupporter but the huge firme earth Can hold it vp: here I and ſorrowes ſit, Heere is my Throne, bid kings come bow to it. 'Tis true (faire daughter) and this bleſſed day, Euer in France ſhall be kept feſtiuall: To ſolemnize this day the glorious ſunne Stayes in his courſe, and playes the Alchymiſt, Turning with ſplendor of his precious eye The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold: The yearely courſ that brings this day about, Shall neuer ſee it, but a holy day. A wicked day, and not a holy day. What hath this day deſeru'd? what hath it done, That it in golden letters ſhould be ſet Among the high tides in the Kalender? Nay, rather turne this day out of the weeke, This day of ſhame, oppreſſion, periury. Or if it muſt ſtand ſtill, let wiues with childe Pray that their burthens may not fall this day, Leſt that their hopes prodigiouſly be croſt: But (on this day) let Sea-men feare no wracke, No bargaines breake that are not this day made; This day all things begun, come to ill end, Yea, faith it ſelfe to hollow falſhood change. By heauen Lady, you ſhall haue no cauſe To curſe the faire proceedings of this day: Haue I not pawn'd to you my Maieſty? You haue beguil'd me with a counterfeit Reſembling Maieſty, which being touch'd and tride, Proues valueleſſe: you are forſworne, forſworne, You came in Armes to ſpill mine enemies bloud, But now in Armes, you ſtrengthen it with yours. The grapling vigor, and rough frowne of Warre Is cold in amitie, and painted peace, And our oppreſſion hath made vp this league: Arme, arme, you heauens, againſt theſe periur'd Kings, A widdow cries, be husband to me (heauens) Let not the howres of this vngodly day Weare out the daies in Peace; but ere Sun-ſet, Set armed diſcord 'twixt theſe periur'd Kings, Heare me, Oh, heare me. Lady Conſtance, peace. War, war, no peace, peace is to me a warre: O Lymoges, O Auſtria, thou doſt ſhame That bloudy ſpoyle: thou ſlaue, thou wretch, yu coward, Thou little valiant, great in villanie, Thou euer ſtrong vpon the ſtronger ſide; Thou Fortunes Champion, that do'ſt neuer fight But when her humourous Ladiſhip is by To teach thee ſafety: thou art periur'd too, And ſooth'ſt vp greatneſſe. What a foole art thou, A ramping foole, to brag, and ſtamp, and ſweare, Vpon my partie: thou cold blooded ſlaue, Haſt thou not ſpoke like thunder on my ſide? Beene ſworne my Souldier, bidding me depend Vpon thy ſtarres, thy fortune, and thy ſtrength, And doſt thou now fall ouer to my foes? Thou weare a Lyons hide, doff it for ſhame, And hang a Calues skin on thoſe recreant limbes.