Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
May it please my Sovereign Confirm his grant touching— The Crown of Scotland, Save other time, Grimsby thoust raised A storm which showers of blood can hardly lay. Dread Liege, If all the youthful blood that I have spent, And wealthy honours that my sword hath won Waving the Christian Standard in the face Of the proud Pagan, in the holy Land, Merit the name of hangman, Grimsby casts Them and himself at royal Edward's feet, And like an out worn soldier, humbly begs, No pension (but look Percy) nor yet office But leave to leave the Court, and rich in stars To lose more blood, or win more worth in wars. We will not lose thee Grimsby, valiant Percy, If love in us, or loyalty in you, Have any power. My sovereign's pleasure sits above my private passions. Then join hands, Our subjects both the native of two Lands. Friends Grimsby. Friends in show, But in my breast bloody revenge lies ambushed. Gracious Liege. thouart no Musician, Bruce, thou keep'st false time, We strike a bloody lachrymae to France, And thou keep'st time to a Scotch lig to arms. Edward will be more kind to Christians. Let Christians be more honest than to Edward, In expedition of this holy war, When France in person was enjoined to march, To work his safety we engaged our own, Cashiered his fainting soldiers, and on promise, Of so much gold at our return, supplied The French designs ourself, and is our love, And loss of blood, half which at lest had dropped Out of French bosoms, quittant with owe none, Pillage and play the free-butter for more, The news. Dread Sovereign, Scotland is infected With a most dangerous surfeit, it breaks out In strong rebellion. This is your Kingdom Bruce. I have no hand in't tho. Shouldst have no head, did we but think it, whose's the chief? One Wallace, a fellow meanly bred, But spirited above belief. Some needy borderer. How is our bosom parted, is their power Of any strength? Bruce, leafy powers for France; If we but thought thee touched in't, warlike Percy, Beaumont and Sebastian fetch him in Or with a second and more fatal conquest Ruin that stubborn Nation. Gracious Edward, Though war has made them subjects, heaven defend Subjects should make 'em vassals. We conceit you, If any officer of ours transgress Our will, or go beyond his bounds prefixed we'll have his head, he our high worth depraves, That our free subjects seek to make his slaves. We do not. See we find it not. Let Ellianor win so much favour as to march along Tho conquered, 'las we are neighbours of one clime, And live like them subject to change and time. Royal Edward, Though Wallace and some spleenful dissolutes Wronged with the yoke of bondage cast it off. Let not the whole Land suffer.
seed 43: T22 · seed 44: T13 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
May it pleaſe my Soveraigne Confirme his grant touching— The Crown of Scotland, Save other time, Grimſby th'aſt raiſed A ſtorm which ſhowers of bloud can hardly lay. Dread Liege, If all the youthfull bloud that I have ſpent, And wealthy honors that my ſword hath wonne Waving the Chriſtian Standard in the face Of the proud Pagan, in the holy Land, Merit the name of hangman, Grimsby caſts Them and himſelfe at royall Edwards feet, And like an out worn ſouldier, humbly begs, No penſion (but look Percy) nor yet office But leave to leave the Court, and rich in ſtars To loſe more bloud, or win more worth in wars. VVe will not loſe thee Grimſby, valiant Percy, If love in us, or loyaltie in you, Have any power. My Soveraignes pleaſure ſits above my private paſſions. Then joyn hands, Our ſubjects both the native of two Lands. Friends Grimſby. Friends in ſhew, But in my breſt bloudy revenge lies ambuſh't. Gracious Liege. Th'art no Muſician, Bruce, thou keep'ſt falſe time, We ſtrike a bloudy lachrymae to France, And thou keep'ſt time to a Scotch ligge to armes. Edward will be more kind to Chriſtians. Let Chriſtians be more honeſt then to Edward, In expedition of this holy warre, When France in perſon was enjoyn'd to march, To work his ſafetie we engag'd our own, Caſheer'd his fainting ſouldiers, and on promiſe, Of ſo much gold at our return, ſuppli'd The French deſignes our ſelfe, and is our love, And loſſe of bloud, halfe which at leaſt had drop'd Out of French boſomes, quittant with owe none, Pillage and play the free-butter for more, The news. Dread Soveraigne, Scotland is infected With a moſt dangerous ſurfet, it breaks out In ſtrong rebellion. This is your Kingdome Bruce. I have no hand in't tho. Shouldſt have no head, did we but think it, VVhoſe the chief? One Wallace, a fellow meanly bred, But ſpirited above beleefe. Some needy borderer. How is our boſome parted, is their power Of any ſtrength? Bruce, leavy powers for France; If we but thought thee touch'd in't, warlike Percy, Beaumont and Sebaſtian fetch him in Or with a ſecond and more fatall conqueſt Ruine that ſtubborne Nation. Gracious Edward, Tho war ha's made them ſubjects, heaven defend Subjects ſhould make 'em vaſſals. We conceit you, If any officer of ours tranſgreſſe Our will, or go beyond his bounds prefix't VVee'l have his head, he our high worth depraves, That our free ſubjects ſeek to make his ſlaves. We do not. See we finde it not. Let Ellianor win ſo much favour as to march along Tho conquer'd, 'las we are neighbours of one clime, And live like them ſubject to change and time. Royall Edward, Though Wallace and ſome ſpleenfull diſſolutes Wrong'd with the yoke of bondage caſt it off. Let not the whole Land ſuffer.