Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William / Nashe, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1590 (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men T29 Disguise and pursuit in Look About You typicality 0.74 · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T29: gloster, faukenbridge, skinke, hermit, richard, prince, iohn, porter, henry, brother.
uncle's of Gloster, and of Winchester, The special Watchmen of our English Weal, I would prevail, if Prayers might prevail, To join your hearts in love and amity, Oh, what a Scandal is it to our Crown, That two such Noble Peers as ye should jar? Believe me, Lords, my tender years can tell, Civil dissension is a viperous Worm, That gnaws the Bowels of the Commonwealth. What tumult's this? An Uproar, I dare warrant, Begun through malice of the Bishop's men. Oh my good Lords, and virtuous Henry, Pity the City of London, pity us: The Bishop, and the Duke of Gloucester's men, Forbidden late to carry any Weapon, Have filled their Pockets full of peeble stones; And banding themselves in contrary parts, Do pelt so fast at one another's Pate, That many have their giddy brains knocked out: Our Windows are broke down in every Street, And we, for fear, compelled to shut our Shops. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaughtering hands, and keep the Peace: Pray Uncle Gloster mitigate this strife. Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, we'll fall to it with our Teeth. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute. You of my household, leave this peevish broil, And set this unaccustomed fight aside. My Lord, we know your Grace to be a man Just, and upright; and for your Royal Birth, Inferior to none, but to his Majesty: And ere that we will suffer such a Prince, So kind a Father of the Commonweal, To be disgraced by an Inkhorn Mate, We and our Wives and Children all will fight, And have our bodies slaughtered by thy foes. I, and the very parings of our Nails Shall pitch a Field when we are dead. Stay, stay, I say: And if you love me, as you say you do, Let me persuade you to forbear a while. Oh, how this discord doth afflict my Soul. Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold My sighs and tears, and will not once relent? Who should be pitiful, if you be not? Or who should study to prefer a Peace, If holy Churchmen take delight in broils? Yield my Lord Protector, yield Winchester, Except you mean with obstinate repulse To slay your Sovereign, and destroy the Realm. You see what Mischief, and what Murder too, Hath been enacted through your enmity: Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood. He shall submit, or I will never yield. Compassion on the King commands me stoop, Or I would see his heart out, ere the Priest Should ever get that privilege of me. Behold my Lord of Winchester, the Duke Hath banished moody discontented fury, As by his smoothed Brows it doth appear: Why look you still so stern, and tragical? Here Winchester, I offer thee my Hand. Fie Uncle Beauford, I have heard you preach, That Malice was a great and grievous sin: And will not you maintain the thing you teach? But prove a chief offendor in the same.
seed 43: T34 · seed 44: T31 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Vnckles of Gloſter, and of Wincheſter, The ſpeciall Watch-men of our Engliſh Weale, I would preuayle, if Prayers might preuayle, To ioyne your hearts in loue and amitie, Oh, what a Scandall is it to our Crowne, That two ſuch Noble Peeres as ye ſhould iarre? Beleeue me, Lords, my tender yeeres can tell, Ciuill diſſention is a viperous Worme, That gnawes the Bowels of the Common-wealth. What tumult's this? An Vprore, I dare warrant, Begun through malice of the Biſhops men. Oh my good Lords, and vertuous Henry, Pitty the Citie of London, pitty vs: The Biſhop, and the Duke of Gloſters men, Forbidden late to carry any Weapon, Haue fill'd their Pockets full of peeble ſtones; And banding themſelues in contrary parts, Doe pelt ſo faſt at one anothers Pate, That many haue their giddy braynes knockt out: Our Windowes are broke downe in euery Street, And we, for feare, compell'd to ſhut our Shops. We charge you, on allegeance to our ſelfe, To hold your ſlaughtring hands, and keepe the Peace: Pray' Vnckle Gloſter mittigate this ſtrife. Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, wee'le fall to it with our Teeth. Doe what ye dare, we are as reſolute. You of my houſehold, leaue this peeuiſh broyle, And ſet this vnaccuſtom'd fight aſide. My Lord, we know your Grace to be a man Iuſt, and vpright; and for your Royall Birth, Inferior to none, but to his Maieſtie: And ere that we will ſuffer ſuch a Prince, So kinde a Father of the Common-weale, To be diſgraced by an Inke-horne Mate, Wee and our Wiues and Children all will fight, And haue our bodyes ſlaughtred by thy foes. I, and the very parings of our Nayles Shall pitch a Field when we are dead. Stay, ſtay, I ſay: And if you loue me, as you ſay you doe, Let me perſwade you to forbeare a while. Oh, how this diſcord doth afflict my Soule. Can you, my Lord of Wincheſter, behold My ſighes and teares, and will not once relent? Who ſhould be pittifull, if you be not? Or who ſhould ſtudy to preferre a Peace, If holy Church-men take delight in broyles? Yeeld my Lord Protector, yeeld Wincheſter, Except you meane with obſtinate repulſe To ſlay your Soueraigne, and deſtroy the Realme. You ſee what Miſchiefe, and what Murther too, Hath beene enacted through your enmitie: Then be at peace, except ye thirſt for blood. He ſhall ſubmit, or I will neuer yeeld. Compaſſion on the King commands me ſtoupe, Or I would ſee his heart out, ere the Prieſt Should euer get that priuiledge of me. Behold my Lord of Wincheſter, the Duke Hath baniſht moodie diſcontented fury, As by his ſmoothed Browes it doth appeare: Why looke you ſtill ſo ſterne, and tragicall? Here Wincheſter, I offer thee my Hand. Fie Vnckle Beauford, I haue heard you preach, That Mallice was a great and grieuous ſinne: And will not you maintaine the thing you teach? But proue a chiefe offendor in the ſame.