Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
The Lords are going to view the trenches. Every man to his parapet, To your trenches you tattered rogues! It's well done fellows. Cry your Lordship mercy, This blind buzzard here cannot see, Whither will you march headlong my friend? What men are these? I leave them to your Honours sifting, I have fortifications to look too. There's drinking money, hence to your works. Bless your honours. What men are these, I ask, will no man speak? Hear and in hearing wish the sound unheard, Youthful Sebastian nephew to the Queen Longing to see the man famed for th' excess Or goodness and of badness, seeing unjoined In honoured Embassy disguised attempted The rebel Wallace's presence. Glascot and Mountford. Who did this damned villainy? Our message told, The traitor newly set on fire with madness, Showing the mangled bodies of a friar, His wife and father, burst out into flames High hot and violent, In which fierce rage Revolted Grimsby knew Sebastian (Though Herald like he went disguised) and seized Him and us for three intelligencing spies, Cut off his head, his tongue, and Glascot's eyes. Hang up this, provide for these, trufle him up. What sen ye man? What slave, what Turk that murders his own brethren Durst play the tyrant thus? hang all the Nation Whom we have ta'en to mercy, I'll not spare Fathers, nor mothers, nor their bawling barns, fire their houses, hang up this tike first. Ah bonny men, I met 'em play and at bopeep, & gangand out a their way, and sall I be hanged for my good deeds of charity, I'll a poor Scutch soldier, and am run away from that Rebel Wallas, to fight and for your good Prince, ah he's a good King, and y'are all bonny men, I'll follow ye all to the death, and to the Devil, and any man dare gang so far for all my clutches, giffe I clutch Wallace, he's ne'er carry it till hell nor heaven. If he do, may Percies name be crossed Out of the roll of men. So much swears Clifford. Sneak not away sirrah, y'are not gone yet. I ken it vary we'll. I'll not went to hanging yet. Yet though a traitor, thus much let me speak For absent Wallace, were the case your own, Or one that's baser having any spirit, A murdered father and a bleeding wife, Mangled before him, would strike fire in snow, Make loyalty turn traitor, and obedience Forget all duty. But our nephew's death And the disgrace done our Ambassadors. They then put off their title, and put on The name of spies, when in their companies, They take disguised observers. By my sawle the English are gallant men. No snare to entrap this Wolf? How Northumberland, entrap a foe? Sure 'tis no English word, Clifford at least was ne'er acquainted with't. Give him fair summons, dare him to the field, And trap him then. Ah bony man!
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)
The Lords are going to view the trenches. Every man to his parrapet, To your trenches you tatterd roagues! Its well done fellowes. Cry your Lordſhip mercy, This blind buzzard here cannot ſee, Whither will you march headlong my friend? What men are theſe? I leave them to your Honors ſifting, I have fortifications to look too. There's drinking money, hence to your works. Bleſſe your honours. What men are theſe, I aske, will no man ſpeak? Heare and in hearing wiſh the ſound unheard, Youthfull Sebaſtian nephew to the Queene Longing to ſee the man fam'd for th' exceſſe Or goodnes and of badnes, ſeeing unjoyned In honored Embaſſie diſguis'd attempted The rebell Wallaces preſence. Glaſcot and Mountford. Who did this damned villany? Our meſſage told, The traytor newly ſet on fire with madnes, Showing the mangled bodies of a Fryer, His wife and father, burſt out into flames Hye hot and violent, In which fierce rage Revolted Grimsby knew Sebaſtian (Tho Herald like he went diſguiſ'd) and ſeazed Him and us for three intelligencing ſpies, Cut off his head, his tongue, and Glaſcots eyes. Hang up this, provide for theſe, trufle him up. What ſen ye man? What ſlave, what Turke that murders his owne brethren Durſt play the tyrant thus? hang all the Nation Whom we have tane to mercy, I'le not ſpare Fathers, nor mothers, nor their bawling barnes, fire their houſes, hang up this tike firſt. Ah bonny men, I met um playe and at bo-peep, & gangand out a their way, and ſall I be hanged for my good deeds of charrity, I'ze a poor Scutch ſouldier, and am ron away from that Rebell Wallas, to feight and for your gude Prince, ah he's a gude King, and y'are all bonny men, I'ze follow ye all to the death, and to the Devill, and ony man dare gang ſo far for all my clutches, giffe I clutch Wallace, he's neer carry it till hell nor heaven. If he do, may Percies name be croſt Out of the roll of men. So much ſwears Clifford. Sneak not away ſirra, y'are not gone yet. I ken it vary weel. I'ze not gangan to hanging yet. Yet though a traitour, thus much let me ſpeak For abſent VVallace, were the caſe your own, Or one that's baſer having any ſpirit, A murder'd father and a bleeding wife, Mangled before him, would ſtrike fire in ſnow, Make loyalty turn traitor, and obedience Forget all duty. But our Nephews death And the diſgrace done our Embaſſadours. They then put off their title, and put on The name of ſpies, when in their companies, They take diſguiſ'd obſervers. By my ſawle the Engliſh are gallant men. No ſnare to intrap this Wolfe? How Northumberland, intrap a fo? Sure 'tis no Engliſh word, Clifford at leaſt was ne're acquainted with't. Give him fair ſummons, dare him to the field, And trap him then. Ah bony man!