Rowley, William · published 1638 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1609] (Annals) romance · Prince Charles's Men (first) · Red Bull unassigned nearest T46 Swords, quarrels and valour · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T46: rapier, sword, fight, gentlemen, gentleman, kicked, kill, dagger, signor, valour.
Agreed, agreed, agreed. we'll take up the body then. I'll have a leg of him. And I another. And I another. And Ilo help thee Raph. With reverence and with silence then: For as we have made these Laws in remembrance of him, so it shall not be a miss to make it the sweeter, to reckon up our tools, and put them in meeter, and instead of a dirge, I think it fit time and reason to reckon Sir Hugh's bones in Rhyme: The Drawer first, and then the Dresser, Wedges and Heel-blocks, greater and lesser; Yet 'tis not worth two Ganders feathers, Unless you have the hand and thumb-leathers: Then comes your short-heels, Needle, and Thimble, With Pincers and pricking awl, so neat and nimble: Rubbing-stone next, with awl, Steel, and Tacks, Which often will hold when the shoe-leather cracks: Then Stirrup, stopping-stick, with good Sow-haires, Whetstone, and cutting-knife which sharply pares; And lastly, to clap Saint Hugh's bones in An Apron that's made of a jolly sheep's skin, And thus to all Shoemakers we bid adieu, With triumph to bury the famous St. Hugh. Arm, arm, arm; what shall we do neighbours? The Beacons are on fire, and my heart freezes in my belly. They are fired round about us, and all the Country in an uproar; My very nose drops with fear. If our Enemies find us in these cold sweats, We are all sure to go to th' pot for't. Therefore let's go to th' pot first; For when the drink's in, the Wit's out: And when the wit is out, we shall fight like mad men. Content, and as we go, let's raise the Country. Arm, arm, arm. What Alarum's this? Why cry ye so like mad men? Because we have no weapons in our hands Sir. Why are the Beacons fired? We are all afraid to think on't; They say the Enemy is landed Sir. Stand you here like sheep, When danger beats so rudely at your doors? There let 'em beat, he shall not be let in for me. The Enemies are landed men, and therefore we'll go by water: Come neighbours. Arm, arm, arm. The cry is still raised, let's put the Court in Arms, And certify the Emperor. With all the speed that may be, Arm, arm, arm Let us be wise neighbours, And whilst they cry Arms, Let us cry legs, and trust unto our heels. The stratagem takes rarely, come fair Leodice, This tumult in the Court gives means to fly. Thus folded in thine Arms I wish to die. Talk not of Death, live, and be blessed for ever, No frown of Fate two faithful hearts can fever. Arm, arm, arm. My Horse and Armour villains: High Jupiter protect us; what neglect is this, The Beacons fired, and a whole Land asleep, When Foes come armed in Thunder? Guard the Court, see to our daughter's safety, I fear these sudden tumults have disturbed her.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Agreed, agreed, agreed. Wee'le take up the body then. Ile have a leg of him. And I another. And I another. And Ilo helpe thee Raph. With reverence and with silence then: For as we have made these Lawes in remembrance of him, so it shall not be a misse to make it the sweeter, to reckon up our tooles, and put them in meeter, and instead of a Deirge, I thinke it fit time and reason to reckon Sir Hughs bones in Rime: The Drawer first, and then the Dresser, Wedges and Heele-blocks, greater and lesser; Yet tis not worth two Ganders feathers, Vnlesse you have the hand and thumb-lethers: Then comes your short-heeles, Needle, and Thimble, With Pincers and pricking Aule, so neate and nimble: Rubbing-stone next, with Aule, Steele, and Tacks, Which often will hold when the shooe-leather cracks: Then Stirrup, stopping-stick, with good Sow-haires, Whet-stone, and cutting-knife which sharply pares; And lastly, to clap Saint Hughs bones in An Apron that's made of a jolly sheepes skin, And thus to all Shooemakers we bid adieu, With tryumph to bury the famous St. Hugh. Arme, arme, arme; what shall we doe neighbours? The Beacons are on fire, and my heart freezes in my belly. They are fir'd round about us, and all the Country in an uproare; My very nose drops with feare. If our Enemies finde us in these cold sweats, We are all sure to goe to th pot for't. Therefore let's goe to th' pot first; For when the Drinke's in, the Wit's out: And when the wit is out, we shall fight like mad men. Content, and as we goe, let's raise the Countrey. Arme, arme, arme. What Alarum's this? Why cry yee so like mad men? Because we have no weapons in our hands Sir. Why are the Beacons fir'd? We are all affraid to thinke on't; They say the Enemy is landed Sir. Stand you here like sheepe, When danger beats so rudely at your doores? There let 'em beate, he shall not be let in for me. The Enemies are landed men, and therefore wee'le goe by water: Come neighbours. Arme, arme, arme. The cry is still rais'd, let's put the Court in Armes, And certifie the Emperour. With all the speed that may be, Arme, arme, arme Let us be wise neighbours, And whilst they cry Armes, Let us cry leggs, and trust unto our heeles. The stratagem takes rarely, come faire Leodice, This tumult in the Court gives meanes to flie. Thus folded in thine Armes I wish to dye. Talke not of Death, live, and be blest for ever, No frowne of Fate two faithfull hearts can fever. Arme, arme, arme. My Horse and Armour villaines: High Jupiter protect us; what neglect is this, The Beacons fir'd, and a whole Land asleepe, When Foes come arm'd in Thunder? Guard the Court, see to our Daughters safety, I feare these sudden tumults have disturb'd her.