Shakespeare, William / Fletcher, John · published 1623 · first performed or written 1613 [Jun] (Annals) history · King's Men T31 Popes, cardinals and the crown typicality 0.70 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T31: cardinal, pope, king, lord, majesty, holy, rome, france, church, lords.
All the Land knows that: How ever, yet there is no great breach, when it comes Cranmer will find a Friend will not shrink from him. Who may that be, I pray you. Thomas Cromwell, A man in much esteem with th' King, and truly A worthy Friend. The King has made him Master o' th' jewel House, And one already of the Privy Council. He will deserve more. Yes without all doubt. Come Gentlemen, ye shall go my way Which is to ' th' Court, and there ye shall be my Guests: Something I can command. As I walk thither, I'll tell ye more. You may command us Sir. How does your Grace? O Griffith, sick to death: My Legs like loaden Branches bow to ' th' Earth, Willing to leave their burden: Reach a Chair, So now (me thinks) I feel a little ease. Didst thou not tell me Griffith, as thou leadest me, That the great Child of Honour, Cardinal Wolsey Was dead? Yes Madam: but I thank your Grace Out of the pain you suffered, gave no ear too't. Prithee good Griffith, tell me how he died. If well, he stepped before me happily For my example. Well, the voice goes Madam, For after the stout Earl Northumberland Arrested him at Yorke, and brought him forward As a man sorely tainted, to his Answer, He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill He could not sit his Mule. Alas poor man. At last, with easy Rhodes, he came to Leicester, Lodged in the Abbey; where the reverend Abbot With all his Covent, honourably received him; To whom he gave these words. O Father Abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of State, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye: Give him a little earth for Charity. So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness Pursued him still, and three nights after this, About the hour of eight, which he himself Foretold should be his last, full of Repentance, Continual Meditations, Tears, and Sorrows, He gave his Honours to the world again, His blessed part to Heaven, and slept in peace. So may he rest, His Faults lie gently on him: Yet thus far Griffith, give me leave to speak him, And yet with Charity. He was a man Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking Himself with Princes. One that by suggestion Tied all the Kingdom. Simony, was fair play, His own Opinion was his Law. I' th' presence He would say untruths, and be ever double Both in his words, and meaning. He was never (But where he meant to Ruin) pitiful. His Promises, were as he then was, Mighty: But his performance, as he is now, Nothing: Of his own body he was ill, and gave The Clergy ill example. Noble Madam: men's evil manners, live in Brass, their Virtues We writ in Water. May it please your Highness To hear me speak his good now? Yes good Griffith, I were malicious else.
seed 43: T38 · seed 44: T38 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
All the Land knowes that: How euer, yet there is no great breach, when it comes Cranmer will finde a Friend will not ſhrinke from him. Who may that be, I pray you. Thomas Cromwell, A man in much eſteeme with th' King, and truly A worthy Friend. The King ha's made him Maſter o' th' Iewell Houſe, And one already of the Priuy Councell. He will deſerue more. Yes without all doubt. Come Gentlemen▪ ye ſhall go my way Which is to' th Court, and there ye ſhall be my Gueſts: Something I can command. As I walke thither, Ile tell ye more. You may command vs Sir. How do's your Grace? O Griffith, ſicke to death: My Legges like loaden Branches bow to' th' Earth, Willing to leaue their burthen: Reach a Chaire, So now (me thinkes) I feele a little eaſe. Did'ſt thou not tell me Griffith, as thou lead'ſt mee, That the great Childe of Honor, Cardinall Wolſey Was dead? Yes Madam: but I thanke your Grace Out of the paine you ſuffer'd, gaue no eare too't. Pre'thee good Griffith, tell me how he dy'de▪ If well, he ſtept before me happily For my example. Well, the voyce goes Madam, For after the ſtout Earle Northumberland Arreſted him at Yoke, and brought him forward As a man ſorely tainted, to his Anſwer, He fell ſicke ſodainly, and grew ſo ill He could not ſit his Mule. Alas poore man▪ At laſt, with eaſie Rodes, he came to Leiceſter, Lodg'd in the Abbey; where the reuerend Abbot With all his Couent, honourably receiu'd him; To whom he gaue theſe words. O Father Abbot, An old man, broken with the ſtormes of State, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye▪ Giue him a little earth for Charity. So went to bed; where eagerly his ſickneſſe Purſu'd him ſtill, and three nights after this, About the houre of eight, which he himſelfe Foretold ſhould be his laſt, full of Repentance, Continuall Meditations, Teares, and Sorrowes, He gaue his Honors to the world agen, His bleſſed part to Heauen, and ſlept in peace. So may he reſt, His Faults lye gently on him: Yet thus farre Griffith, giue me leaue to ſpeake him, And yet with Charity. He was a man Of an vnbounded ſtomacke, euer ranking Himſelfe with Princes. One that by ſuggeſtion Ty'de all the Kingdome. Symonie, was faire play, His owne Opinion was his Law. I' th' preſence He would ſay vntruths, and be euer double Both in his words, and meaning. He was neuer (But where he meant to Ruine) pittifull. His Promiſes, were as he then was, Mighty: But his performance, as he is now, Nothing: Of his owne body he was ill, and gaue The Clergy ill example. Noble Madam: Mens euill manners, liue in Braſſe, their Vertues We write in Water. May it pleaſe your Highneſſe To heare me ſpeake his good now? Yes good Griffith, I were malicious elſe.