Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1591 [1590-1591] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T43 York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T43: henry, king, richard, warwick, york, edward, father, duke, crown, son.
The Sun of heaven (me thought) was loath to set; But stayed, and made the Western Welkin blush, When English measure backward their own ground In faint Retire: Oh bravely came we off, When with a volley of our needless shot, After such bloody toil, we bid good night, And wooned our tottering colours clearly up, Last in the field, and almost Lords of it. Where is my Prince, the Dolphin? here: what news? The Count Meloone is slain: The English Lords By his persuasion, are again fall'n off, And your supply, which you have wished so long, Are cast away, and sunk on Goodwin sands. Ah fowl, shrewd news. Beshrew thy very hart: I did not think to be so sad to night As this hath made me. Who was he that said King Iohn did fly an hour or two before The stumbling night did part our weary powers? Who ever spoke it, it is true my Lord. Well: keep good quarter, & good care to night, The day shall not be up so soon as I, To try the fair adventure of to morrow. Whose there? Speak hoa, speak quickly, or I shoot. A Friend. What art thou? Of the part of England. Whether dost thou go? What's that to thee? Why may not I demand of thine affairs, As well as thou of mine? Hubert, I think. Thou hast a perfect thought: I will upon all hazards well believe Thou art my friend, that knowst my tongue so well: Who art thou? Who thou wilt: and if thou please Thou mayst befriend me so much, as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets. Unkind remembrance: thou, & endless night, Have done me shame: Brave Soldier, pardon me, That any accent breaking from thy tongue, Should scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. Come, come: sans compliment, What news abroad? Why here walk I, in the black brow of night To find you out. Brcefe then: and what's the news? O my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. Show me the very wound of this ill news, I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. The King I fear is poisoned by a Monk, I left him almost speechless, and broke out To acquaint you with this evil, that you might The better arm you to the sudden time, Then if you had at leisure known of this. How did he take it? Who did taste to him? A Monk I tell you, a resolved villain Whose Bowels suddenly burst out: The King Yet speaks, and peradventure may recover. Who didst thou leave to tend his Majesty? Why know you not? The Lords are all come back, And brought Prince Henry in their company, At whose request the king hath pardoned them, And they are all about his Majesty.
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)
The Sun of heauen (me thought) was loth to ſet; But ſtaid, and made the Weſterne Welkin bluſh, When Engliſh meaſure backward their owne ground In faint Retire: Oh brauely came we off, When with a volley of our needleſſe ſhot, After ſuch bloody toile, we bid good night, And woon'd our tott'ring colours clearly vp, Laſt in the field, and almoſt Lords of it. Where is my Prince, the Dolphin? Heere: what newes? The Count Meloone is ſlaine: The Engliſh Lords By his perſwaſion, are againe falne off, And your ſupply, which you haue wiſh'd ſo long, Are caſt away, and ſunke on Goodwin ſands. Ah fowle, ſhrew'd newes. Beſhrew thy very hart: I did not thinke to be ſo ſad to night As this hath made me. Who was he that ſaid King Iohn did flie an houre or two before The ſtumbling night did part our wearie powres? Who euer ſpoke it, it is true my Lord. Well: keepe good quarter, & good care to night, The day ſhall not be vp ſo ſoone as I, To try the faire aduenture of to morrow. Whoſe there? Speake hoa, ſpeake quickely, or I ſhoote. A Friend. What art thou? Of the part of England. Whether doeſt thou go? What's that to thee? Why may not I demand of thine affaires, As well as thou of mine? Hubert, I thinke. Thou haſt a perfect thought: I will vpon all hazards well beleeue Thou art my friend, that know'ſt my tongue ſo well: Who art thou? Who thou wilt: and if thou pleaſe Thou maiſt be-friend me ſo much, as to thinke I come one way of the Plantagenets. Vnkinde remembrance: thou, & endles night, Haue done me ſhame: Braue Soldier, pardon me, That any accent breaking from thy tongue, Should ſcape the true acquaintance of mine eare. Come, come: ſans complement, What newes abroad? Why heere walke I, in the black brow of night To finde you out. Brcefe then: and what's the newes? O my ſweet ſir, newes fitting to the night, Blacke, fearefull, comfortleſſe, and horrible. Shew me the very wound of this ill newes, I am no woman, Ile not ſwound at it. The King I feare is poyſon'd by a Monke, I left him almoſt ſpeechleſſe, and broke out To acquaint you with this euill, that you might The better arme you to the ſodaine time, Then if you had at leiſure knowne of this. How did he take it? Who did taſte to him? A Monke I tell you, a reſolued villaine Whoſe Bowels ſodainly burſt out: The King Yet ſpeakes, and peraduenture may recouer. Who didſt thou leaue to tend his Maieſty? Why know you not? The Lords are all come backe, And brought Prince Henry in their companie, At whoſe requeſt the king hath pardon'd them, And they are all about his Maieſtie.