Passages from this character's speech that contain the most distinguishing words for Cluster 22 (broom, tiff, loathsome, snakes, hercles, dismal…). Matches are highlighted.
thou art. For happy Wife, a most distressed Widow: For joyful Mother, one that wails the name: For one being sued too, one that humbly sues: For Queen, a very Caitiff, crowned with care: For she that scorned at me, now scorned of me: For she being feared of all, now fearing one: For she commanding all, obeyed of none. Thus hath
Full speech
And lesned be that small, God I beseech him, Thy honour, state, and seat, is endue to me. And turns the Sun to shade: alas, alas, Witness my Son, now in the shade of death, Whose bright outshining beams, thy cloudy wrath Hath in eternal darkness folded up. Your ayery builds in our ayeries Nest: Oh God that seest it, do not suffer it, As it is won with blood, lost be it so. Urge neither charity, nor shame to me: Uncharitably with me have you dealt, And shamefully my Hope's (by you) are butchered. My Charity is outrage, Life my shame, And in that shame, still live my sorrows rage. Oh Princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy hand, In sign of League and amity with thee: Now fair befall thee, and thy Noble house: Thy Garments are not spotted with our blood: Nor thou within the compass of my curse. I will not think but they ascend the sky, And there awake Gods gentle sleeping peace. Oh Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog: Look when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites, His venom tooth will rankle to the death. Have not to do with him, beware of him, Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him, And all their Ministers attend on him. What dost thou scorn me For my gentle counsel? And sooth the devil that I warn thee from. Oh but remember this another day: When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow: And say (poor Margaret ) was a Prophetess: Live each of you the subjects to his hate, And he to yours, and all of you to Gods. I never did her any to my knowledge. So now prosperity begins to mellow, And drop into the rotten mouth of death: Here in these Confines slily have I lurked, To watch the waining of mine enemies. A dire induction, am I witness to, And will to France, hoping the consequence Will prove as bitter, black, and Tragical. Withdraw thee wretched Margaret, who comes here? Hover about her, say that right for right Hath dimmed your Infant morn, to Aged night. Plantagenet does quit Plantagenet, Edward for Edward, pays a dying debt. When holy Harry died, and my sweet Son. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, Give mine the benefit of signory, And let my griefs frown on the upper hand If sorrow can admit Society. I had and Edward, till a Richard killed him: I had a Husband, till a Richard killed him: Thou hadst and Edward, till a Richard killed him: Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him. Thou hadst a Clarence too, And Richard killed him. From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept A Hellhound that does hunt us all to death: That Dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, To wor y Lambs, and lap their gentle blood: That foul defacer of Gods handy work: That reigns in gauled eyes of weeping souls: That excellent grand Tyrant of the earth, Thy womb let lose to chase us to our graves. Oh upright, joust, and true-disposing God, How do I thank thee, that this carnal Cur Prays on the issue of his Mother's body, And makes her Pue-fellow with others moan. Bear with me: I am hungry for revenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it. Thy Edward he is dead, that killed my Edward, The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward: Young York, he is but boot, because both they Matched not the high perfection of my lose. Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabbed my Edward, And the beholders of this frantic play, the adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Ʋ aughan, Grey, Untimely smothered in their dusky Graves. Richard yet lives, Hels black Intelligencer, Only reserved their Factor, to buy souls, And send them thither: But at hand, at hand Ensues his piteous and unpitied end. Earth gapes, Hell burns, Fiends roar, Saints pray, To have him suddenly conveyed from hence: Cancel his bound of life, deer God I pray, That I may live and say, The Dog is dead. I called thee then, vain flourish of my fortune: I called thee then, poor Shadow, painted Queen, The presentation of but what I was; The flattering Index of a direful Pageant; One heaved a high, to be hurled down below: A Mother only mocked with two fair Babes; A dream of what thou wast, a garish Flag To be the aim of every dangerous Shot; A sign of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble; A Queen in jest, only to fill the Scene. Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brother's? Where be thy two Sons? Wherein dost thou Joy? Who sues, and kneels, and says, God save the Queen? Where be the bending Peers that flattered thee? Where be the thronging Troops that followed thee? Decline all this, and see what now thou art. For happy Wife, a most distressed Widow: For joyful Mother, one that wails the name: For one being sued too, one that humbly sues: For Queen, a very Caitiff, crowned with care: For she that scorned at me, now scorned of me: For she being feared of all, now fearing one: For she commanding all, obeyed of none. Thus hath the course of Justice whirled about, And left thee but a very prey to time, Having no more but Thought of what thou wast. To torture thee the more, being what thou art, Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not Usurp the joust proportion of my Sorrow? Now thy proud Neck, bears half my burdened yoke, From which, even here I slip my wearied head, And leave the burden of it all, on thee. Farewell Yorks wife, and Queen of sad mischance, These English woes, shall make me smile in France. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the day: Compare dead happiness, with living woe: Think that thy Babes were sweeter then they were, And he that slew them fouler then he is: Bettering thy lose, makes the bade causer worse, Revolving this, will teach thee how to Curse. Thy woes will make them sharp, And pierce Like mine. Out Devil, I do remember them too well: Thou killd'st my Husband Henry in the Tower, And Edward my poor Son, at Tewksbury. I and much better blood Then his, or thine. A murderous Villain, and so still thou art. Which God revenge. High thee to Hell for shame, & leave this World Thou Cacodemon, there thy Kingdom is. A little joy enjoys the Queen thereof, For I am she, and altogether joyless: I can no longer hold me patient. Hear me, you wrangling Pirates, that fallen out, In sharing that which you have pilled from me: Which off you trembles not, that looks on me? If not, that I am Queen, you bow Like Subjects; Yet that by you deposed, you quake Like Rebels. Ah gentle Villain, do not turn away. But repetition of what thou hast marred, That will I make, before I let thee go. I was: but I do find more pain in banishment, Then death can yield me here, by my abided. A Husband and a Son thou owest to me, And thou a Kingdom; all of you, allegiance: This Sorrow that I have, by right is yours, And all the Pleasures you usurp, are mine. What? were you snarling all before I came, Ready to catch each other by the throat, And turn you all your hatred now on me? Did Yorks dread Curse prevail so much with Heaven, That Henries death, my lovely Edwards death, Their Kingdoms lose, my woeful Banishment, Should all but answer for that peevish Brat? Can Curses pierce the Clouds, and enter Heaven? Why then give way dull Clouds to my quick Curses. Though not by War, by Surfeit die your King, As ours by Murder, to make him a King. Edward thy Son, that now is Prince of Wales, For Edward our Son, that was Prince of Wales, Die in his youth, by Like untimely violence. Thy self a Queen, for me that was a Queen, Outlive thy glory, Like my wretched self: Long mayest thou live, to wail thy Children's death, And see another, as I see thee now, Decked in thy Rights, as thou art stalled in mine. Long die thy happy days, before thy death, And after many lengthened hours of grief, Die neither Mother, Wife, nor England's Queen. Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by, And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my Son Was stabbed with bloody Daggers: God, I pray him, That none of you may live his natural age, But by some unlooked accident cut off. And leave out thee? stay Dog, for y u shalt hear me. If Heaven have any grievous plague in store, Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, Oh let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe, And then hurl down their indignation On thee, the troubler of the poor World's peace. The Worm of Conscience still begnaw thy Soul, Thy Friends suspect for Traitors while thou livest, And take deep Traitors for thy dearest Friends: No sleep close up that deadly Eye of thine, Unless it be while some tormenting Dream Affrights thee with a Hell of ugly Devils. Thou elvish marked, abortive rooting Hog, Thou that wast sealed in thy Nativity The slave of Nature, and the Son of Hell: Thou slander of thy heavy Mother's Womb, Thou loathed Issue of thy Father's Loins, Thou Rag of Honour, thou detested— Richard. I call thee not. Why so I did, but looked for no reply. O let me make the Perjod to my Curse. Poor painted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune, Why strewest thou Sugar on that Bottel'd Spider, Whose deadly Web ensnares thee about? Fool, fool, thou whettest a Knife to kill thy self: The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me, To help thee curse this poisonous Bunch-backed Toad. Foul shame upon you, you have all moved mine. Peace Master Marquess, you are malapert, Your fire-new stamp of Honour is scarce currant. Oh that your young Nobility could judge What 'twere to loose it, and be miserable. They that stand high, have many blasts to shake them, And if they fallen, they dash themselves to pieces. To serve me well, you all should do me duty, Teach me to be your Queen, and you my Subjects: Oh serve me well, and teach your selves that duty.