Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Stay noble Grimsby, ere he further pass One of us certify our General, Perhaps he'll not admit him to his presence. 'Tis like so, stay him here, that pains be mine. Let Ruge-crosse bring his pleasure. Come agreed. You bring from Longshanks some strange message now. At lest he sends his Gauntlet. Gauntlet, no the English Fight not two days together, but like swaggerers, A fray being made up with a wound or so, The man whose throat before should have been cut, Is a sworn brother, now we have malled your Nation, they'll fawn on us like Spaniels, will they not? And that's thy errand, is't not? Commonly, when English see at cuffs they are too weak, they fall to fishing, and then bait the hook with mercy, and the king's pardon, at which who bites has his swallowing spoiled for ever, there's no Scot but scorns to hang his hope on your king's promises, be it ne'er so smoothly gilded. He gilds none sir. I warrant he would pawn half his Dominions to shake hands with Wallace, and be friends. Had he but him in's Court, he would outshine His capering gallants, be would dote on him, As Jupiter did on Ganymede, and make him His chief Minion. He does already so really dote upon him, 'tis not yet the age of one hour since my Master swore to give ten thousand Crowns to Scot or English, that were so bold to bring him Wallace's head. The English Herald. Ten thousand Crowns. Would make a fair show in our purses Jack. I could pick out five thousand heads, That I durst boldly sell him at that rate. Ten thousand Crowns. I and Court windfalls too, Some English Earldom or so, here is none but friends, Should you betray the conference, I care not, I would deny it, and I would o'ersway Your proofs tho ne'er so massy. It shall not need, believe me worthy Mentith. What here you look is safe. Shall we earn this English gold, ten thousand crowns? My hand. They are ours, he's dead. No more, he comes. I am to him no vassal, he's a tyrant, So tell him, ere his frown shall bend my knee, This shall be hanged upon the gallow tree, For my appearance tell him this, I'll dine On Christmas day next in his English Court, And in his great Hall at Westminster, at's own board, we'll drink Scotch healths in his standing cups of gold: His black jacks hand in hand about his Court Shall march with our blue bonnets, we'll eat nothing But what our swords shall carve, so tell his Soldiers, we'll sit like Lords there whilst they rail like slaves, Go with Scotch threats, pay back your English braves. You'll make the English mad.
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)
Stay noble Grimsby, ere he further paſſe One of us certifie our Generall, Perhaps hee'l not admit him to his preſence. 'Tis like ſo, ſtay him here, that pains be mine. Let Ruge-croſſe bring his pleaſure. Come agreed. You bring from Longſhanks ſome ſtrange meſſage now. At leaſt he ſends his Gauntlet. Gauntlet, no the Engliſh Fight not two dayes together, but like ſwaggerers, A fray being made up with a wound or ſo, The man whoſe throat before ſhould have been cut, Is a ſworn brother, now we have mall'd your Nation, Thei'le fawn on us like Spaniels, will they not? And that's thy errand, iſt not? Commonly, when Engliſh ſee at cuffs they are too weak, they fall to fiſhing, and then bait the hook with mercie, and the Kings pardon, at which who bites ha's his ſwallowing ſpoiled for ever, there's no Scot but ſcorns to hang his hope on your Kings promiſes, be it nere ſo ſmoothly gilded. He gilds none ſir. I warrant he would pawn half his Dominions to ſhake hands with Wallace, and be friends. Had he but him in's Court, he would out-ſhine His capring gallants, be would dote on him, As Jupiter did on Ganymede, and make him His chief Minion. Hee does already ſo really dote upon him, 'tis not yet the age of one houre ſince my Maſter ſware to give ten thouſand Crowns to Scot or Engliſh, that were ſo bold to bring him Wallace's head. The Engliſh Herald. Ten thouſand Crowns. Would make a faire ſhew in our purſes Jack. I could pick out five thouſand heads, That I durſt boldly ſell him at that rate. Ten thouſand Crowns. I and Court wind-falls too, Some Engliſh Earldome or ſo, here is none but friends, Should you betray the conference, I care not, I would deny it, and I would oreſway Your proofs tho neere ſo maſſie. It ſhall not need, beleeve me worthy Mentith. What here you looke is ſafe. Shall we earne this Engliſh gold, ten thouſand crownes? My hand. They are ours, hee's dead. No more, he comes. I am to him no vaſſal, hee's a tyrant, So tell him, ere his frowne ſhall bend my knee, This ſhall be hang'd upon the gallow tree, For my appearance tell him this, I'le dyne On Chriſtmas day next in his Engliſh Court, And in his great Hall at Weſtminſter, at's owne boord, Wee'le drink Scotch healths in his ſtanding cups of gold: His blacke Iackes hand in hand about his Court Shall march with our blew bonnets, we'le eate nothing But what our ſwords ſhall carve, ſo tell his Souldiers, Wee'le ſit like Lords there whilſt they rayle like ſlaves, Go with Scotch threats, pay backe your Engliſh braves. Youle make the Engliſh mad.