Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Let it come. Is not this he that killed Wallace? No sir, I am only he that said so, As you sit, so did I lie. Sirrah, where's your master? My master is shot. How shot, where? I'th' back. Oh he ran away. No, my Lord, but his harness Cap was blown off, and he running after it to catch it, was shot between neck and shoulders, and when he stood upright he had two heads. Two heads how? Yes truly, his own head and the arrow head, it was twenty to one that I had not been shot before him. Why prithee? Because my knight's name being Wiseacres, and mine Bolt, and you know a fool's bolt is soon shot. He has pinned the fool upon his master's shoulder very handsomely. Sirrah, go seek your master, and bid him take order for burying of the dead. I shall Sir, and whilst he takes order for the burials of the dead, i'll take order for the stomachs of the living. How fought today our English? Bravely. How the Scots? The pangs of war are like to childbed throws Bitter in suffering, but the storm being passed, The talk, as of scaped shipwreck sweet, doth taste, The death of the Scotch General went to my heart, He had in him of man as much as any, And for aught I think, his blood was poorly sold By his own Countrymen, rather than sought by us. Had not the Rear where Wallace did command, Stood and given aim, it had been a day Bloody and dismal, and whose hard to say, Sir, you shall give me leave to drink a health To all the valiant Scots. Clifford, I'll pledge thee, give me my bowl. Sir, I remembered Wallace in my draught. I did not, so this cup were Wallace Skull, I'd drink it full with blood, for it would save The lives of thousands. I for your Kingdoms would not pledge it so. I would, no matter how a traitor falls. Percy, ten thousand Crowns should buy That traitor's head, if I could have't for money. I would give Twice twenty thousand Crowns to have his head On my sword's point cut from him with this arm, But how i'th' field, nobly, hand to hand, not this straw To a hangman that should bring it me. Let that pass, where's Bruce, our noble Earl of Carrick? I saw him not today, I did, and saw his sword Like to a reaper's scythe, mow down the Scots. Here he comes. Brave Armoury, a rampant Lion within a field all Gules, Where hast been Bruce? Following the execution which we held Three English miles in length. Give him some wine, art not thirsty? Yes for Scottish blood, I never shall have Enough on't, the king's health. Let come. How greedily you Scot drinks his own blood! Ha, ha, ha. If he should taste your bitterness, 'twere not well.
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)
Let it come. Is not this he that kill'd VVallace? No ſir, I am onely he that ſaid ſo, As you ſit, ſo did I lye. Sirra, where's your maſter? My maſter is ſhot. How ſhot, where? I'th backe. Oh he ranne away. No, my Lord, but his harneſſe Cap was blowne off, and he running after it to catch it, was ſhot betweene necke and ſhoulders, and when he ſtood upright he had two heads. Two heads how? Yes truly, his own head and the arrow head, it was twenty to one that I had not beene ſhot before him. Why prethee? Becauſe my Knights name being Wiſeacres, and mine Bolt, and you know a fooles bolt is ſoon ſhot. He ha's pind the foole upon his maſters ſhoulder very handſomly. Sirra, go ſeek your maſter, and bid him take order for burying of the dead. I ſhall Sir, and whilſt he takes order for the burials of the dead, i'le take order for the ſtomacks of the living. How fought to day our Engliſh? Bravely. How the Scots? The pangs of war are like to child-bed throwes Bitter in ſuffering, but the ſtorme being paſt, The talk, as of ſcap't ſhipwrack ſweet, doth taſte, The death of the Scotch Generall went to my heart, He had in him of man aſmuch as any, And for ought I think, his bloud was poorly ſold By his own Countrymen, rather then ſought by us. Had not the Reare where Wallace did command, Stood and given ayme, it had bin a day Bloudy and diſmall, and whoſe hard to ſay, Sir, you ſhall give me leave to drink a health To all the valiant Scots. Clifford, I'le pledge thee, give me my bowle. Sir, I remembred Wallace in my draught. I did not, ſo this cup were Wallace Skull, I'de drinke it full with bloud, for it would ſave The lives of thouſands. I for your Kingdoms would not pledge it ſo. I would, no matter how a traitor falls. Percy, ten thouſand Crowns ſhould buy That traitors head, if I could hav't for money. I would give Twice twenty thouſand Crowns to have his head On my ſwords point cut from him with this arme, But how i'th field, nobly, hand to hand, not this ſtraw To a hangman that ſhould bring it me. Let that paſſe, Wher's Bruce, our noble Earle of Carrick? I ſaw him not to day, I did, and ſaw his ſword Like to a Reapers Sithe, mow down the Scots. Here he comes. Brave Armory, a rampant Lion within a field all Gules, Where haſt been Bruce? Following the execution which we held Three Engliſh miles in length. Give him ſome wine, art not thirſty? Yes for Scottiſh bloud, I never ſhall have Enough on't, the Kings health. Let come. How greedily you Scot drinks his own bloud! Ha, ha, ha. If he ſhould taſte your bitterneſſe, 'twere not well.