Shakespeare, William / Fletcher, John · published 1623 · first performed or written 1613 [Jun] (Annals) history · King's Men T31 Popes, cardinals and the crown typicality 0.80 · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T31: cardinal, pope, king, lord, majesty, holy, rome, france, church, lords.
Till I find more than will, or words to do it, (I mean your malice) know, Officious Lords, I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel Of what course Mettle ye are moulded, Envy, How eagerly ye follow my Disgraces As if it fed ye, and how sleek and wanton Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin? Fellow your envious courses, men of Malice; You have Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt In time will find their fit Rewards. That Seal You ask with such a Violence, the King (Mine, and your Master) with his own hand, gave me: Bade me enjoy it, with the Place, and Honours During my life; and to confirm his Goodness, Tied it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it? The King that gave it. It must be himself then. Thou art a proud Traitor, Priest. Proud Lord, thou liest: Within these forty hours, Surrey durst better Have burnt that Tongue, than said so. Thy Ambition (Thou Scarlet sin) robbed this bewailing Land Of Noble Buckingham, my Father-in-Law, The heads of all thy Brother-Cardinals, (With thee, and all thy best parts bound together) Weighed not a hair of his. Plague of your policy, You sent me Deputy for Ireland, far from his succour; from the King, from all That might have mercy on the fault, thou gav'st him: Whilst your great Goodness, out of holy pity, Absolved him with an Axe. This, and all else This talking Lord can lay upon my credit, I answer, is most false. The Duke by Law Found his deserts. How innocent I was From any private malice in his end, His Noble jury, and foul Cause can witness. If I loved many words, Lord, I should tell you, You have as little Honesty, as Honour, That in the way of Loyalty, and Truth, Toward the King, my ever Royal Master, Dare mate a sounder man than Surrie can be, And all that love his follies. By my Soul, Your long Coat (Priest) protects you, Thou shouldst feel My Sword i' th' life blood of thee else. My Lords, Can ye endure to hear this Arrogance? And from this Fellow? If we live thus tamely, To be thus jaded by a piece of Scarlet, Farewell Nobility: let his Grace go forward, And dare us with his Cap, like Larks. All Goodness Is poison to thy Stomach. Yes, that goodness Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one, Into your own hands (Cardinal) by Extortion: The goodness of your intercepted Packets You writ to ' th' Pope, against the King: your goodness Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious. My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly Noble, As you respect the common good, the State Of our despised Nobility, our Issues, (Whom if he live, will scarce be Gentlemen) Produce the grand sum of his sins, the Articles Collected from his life. I'll startle you Worse than the Sacring Bell, when the brown Wench Lay kissing in your Arms, Lord Cardinal.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T38 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Till I finde more then will, or words to do it, (I meane your malice) know, Officious Lords, I dare, and muſt deny it. Now I feele Of what courſe Mettle ye are molded, Enuy, How eagerly ye follow my Diſgraces As if it fed ye, and how ſleeke and wanton Ye appeare in euery thing may bring my ruine? Follow your enuious courſes, men of Malice; You haue Chriſtian warrant for 'em, and no doubt In time will finde their fit Rewards. That Seale You aske with ſuch a Violence, the King (Mine, and your Maſter) with his owne hand, gaue me: Bad me enioy it, with the Place, and Honors During my life; and to confirme his Goodneſſe, Ti'de it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it? The King that gaue it. It muſt be himſelfe then. Thou art a proud Traitor, Prieſt. Proud Lord, thou lyeſt: Within theſe fortie houres, Surrey durſt better Haue burnt that Tongue, then ſaide ſo. Thy Ambition (Thou Scarlet ſinne) robb'd this bewailing Land Of Noble Buckingham, my Father-in-Law, The heads of all thy Brother-Cardinals, (With thee, and all thy beſt parts bound together) Weigh'd not a haire of his. Plague of your policie, You ſent me Deputie for Ireland, Farre from his ſuccour; from the King, from all That might haue mercie on the fault, thou gau'ſt him: Whil'ſt your great Goodneſſe, out of holy pitty, Abſolu'd him with an Axe. This, and all elſe This talking Lord can lay vpon my credit, I anſwer, is moſt falſe. The Duke by Law Found his deſerts. How innocent I was From any priuate malice in his end, His Noble Iurie, and foule Cauſe can witneſſe. If I lou'd many words, Lord, I ſhould tell you, You haue as little Honeſtie, as Honor, That in the way of Loyaltie, and Truth, Toward the King, my euer Roiall Maſter, Dare mate a ſounder man then Surrie can be, And all that loue his follies. By my Soule, Your long Coat (Prieſt) protects you, Thou ſhould'ſt feele My Sword i' th' life blood of thee elſe. My Lords, Can ye endure to heare this Arrogance? And from this Fellow? If we liue thus tamely, To be thus Iaded by a peece of Scarlet, Farewell Nobilitie: let his Grace go forward, And dare vs with his Cap, like Larkes. All Goodneſſe Is poyſon to thy Stomacke. Yes, that goodneſſe Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one, Into your owne hands (Card'nall) by Extortion: The goodneſſe of your intercepted Packets You writ to 'th Pope, againſt the King: your goodneſſe Since you prouoke me, ſhall be moſt notorious. My Lord of Norfolke, as you are truly Noble, As you reſpect the common good, the State Of our deſpis'd Nobilitie, our Iſſues, (Whom if he liue, will ſcarſe be Gentlemen) Produce the grand ſumme of his ſinnes, the Articles Collected from his life. Ile ſtartle you Worſe then the Sacring Bell, when the browne Wench Lay kiſſing in your Armes, Lord Cardinall.