Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William / Nashe, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1590 (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men T43 York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and typicality 0.80 · 477 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T43: henry, king, richard, warwick, york, edward, father, duke, crown, son.
Hath not thy Rose a Canker, Somerset? Hath not thy Rose a Thorn, Plantagenet? I, sharp and piercing to maintain his truth, Whiles thy consuming Canker eats his falsehood. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding Roses, That shall maintain what I have said is true, Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. Now by this Maiden Blossom in my hand, I scorn thee and thy fashion peevish Boy. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. Proud Poole, I will, and scorn both him and thee. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat. Away, away, good William de la Poole, We grace the Yeoman, by conversing with him. Now by Gods will thou wrong'st him, Summersault: His Grandfather was Lyonel Duke of Clarence, Third Son to the third Edward King of England: Spring Crestlesse Yeomen from so deep a Root? He bears him on the place's Privilege, Or durst not for his craven heart say thus. By him that made me, I'll maintain my words On any Plot of Ground in Christendom. Was not thy Father Richard, Earl of Cambridge, For Treason executed in our late King's days? And by his Treason, standest not thou attainted, Corrupted, and exempt from ancient Gentry? His Trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood, And till thou be restored, thou art a Yeoman. My Father was attached, not attainted, Condemned to dye for Treason, but no Traitor; And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset, Were growing time once ripened to my will. For your partaker Poole, and you yourself, I'll note you in my Book of Memory, To scourge you for this apprehension: Look to it well, and say you are well warned. Ah, thou shalt find us ready for thee still: And know us by these Colours for thy Foes, For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear. And by my Soul, this pale and angry Rose, As Cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I for ever, and my Faction wear, Until it whither with me to my Grave, Or flourish to the height of my Degree. Go forward, and be choked with thy ambition: And so farewell, until I meet thee next. Have with thee Poole: Farewell ambitious Richard. How I am braved, and must perforce endure it? This blot that they object against your House, Shall be whipped out in the next Parliament, Called for the Truce of Winchester and Gloucester: And if thou be not then created York, I will not live to be accounted Warwick. Mean time, in signal of my love to thee, Against proud Somerset, and William Poole, Will I upon thy party wear this Rose. And here I prophesy: this brawl to day, Grown to this faction in the Temple Garden, Shall send between the Red-Rose and the White, A thousand Souls to Death and deadly Night.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T13 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Hath not thy Roſe a Canker, Somerſet? Hath not thy Roſe a Thorne, Plantagenet? I, ſharpe and piercing to maintaine his truth, Whiles thy conſuming Canker eates his falſehood. Well, Ile find friends to weare my bleeding Roſes, That ſhall maintaine what I haue ſaid is true, Where falſe Plantagenet dare not be ſeene. Now by this Maiden Bloſſome in my hand, I ſcorne thee and thy faſhion peeuiſh Boy. Turne not thy ſcornes this way, Plantagenet. Prowd Poole, I will, and ſcorne both him and thee. Ile turne my part thereof into thy throat. Away, away, good William de la Poole, We grace the Yeoman, by conuerſing with him. Now by Gods will thou wrong'ſt him, Somerſet: His Grandfather was Lyonel Duke of Clarence, Third Sonne to the third Edward King of England: Spring Creſtleſſe Yeomen from ſo deepe a Root? He beares him on the place's Priuiledge, Or durſt not for his crauen heart ſay thus. By him that made me, Ile maintaine my words On any Plot of Ground in Chriſtendome. Was not thy Father Richard, Earle of Cambridge, For Treaſon executed in our late Kings dayes? And by his Treaſon, ſtand'ſt not thou attainted, Corrupted, and exempt from ancient Gentry? His Treſpas yet liues guiltie in thy blood, And till thou be reſtor'd, thou art a Yeoman. My Father was attached, not attainted, Condemn'd to dye for Treaſon, but no Traytor; And that Ile proue on better men then Somerſet, Were growing time once ripened to my will. For your partaker Poole, and you your ſelfe, Ile note you in my Booke of Memorie, To ſcourge you for this apprehenſion: Looke to it well, and ſay you are well warn'd. Ah, thou ſhalt finde vs ready for thee ſtill: And know vs by theſe Colours for thy Foes, For theſe my friends in ſpight of thee ſhall weare. And by my Soule, this pale and angry Roſe, As Cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I for euer, and my Faction weare, Vntill it wither with me to my Graue, Or flouriſh to the height of my Degree. Goe forward, and be choak'd with thy ambition: And ſo farwell, vntill I meet thee next. Haue with thee Poole: Farwell ambitious Richard. How I am brau'd, and muſt perforce endure it? This blot that they obiect againſt your Houſe, Shall be whipt out in the next Parliament, Call'd for the Truce of Wincheſter and Glouceſter: And if thou be not then created Yorke, I will not liue to be accounted Warwicke. Meane time, in ſignall of my loue to thee, Againſt prowd Somerſet, and William Poole, Will I vpon thy partie weare this Roſe. And here I prophecie: this brawle to day, Growne to this faction in the Temple Garden, Shall ſend betweene the Red-Roſe and the White, A thouſand Soules to Death and deadly Night.