Rowley, William · published 1638 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1609] (Annals) romance · Prince Charles's Men (first) · Red Bull T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea typicality 0.71 · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Arm, arm, arm. An you be men, show yourselves so. Why d''ee cry thus? say, whither run ye? Out of our wits I think Sir; The Beacons all along the Sea-coast burn most horribly. And what's the cause on't? Because they are afire Sir: Ten thousand Kentish men Which woeful tail's to tell, are knocked down like sheep Sir: The Enemy is landed at Sandwich, set ashore at Dover, And arrived at Rumny Marsh: hark, I hear the Drums already. I am amazed, what Drum is this? Stand on your guard. I would your Guard were here for us to stand upon, That we might reach the further: Come, fear nothing Sir; Let your Lords and you stand by, and see How we Shoemakers will thrash 'em. Health to the Emperor from the Roman State. These are our Britain friends, new come from France. Whom at your landing saw you up in Arms, That fright the Country thus? None my good Lord, not any; From France and Dioclesian thus I bring These Britain Soldiers back triumphant home: The black storm there is laid, and sure these fears That bring these homebred terrors, all are false: And as I guess, the firing of the Beacons, Was at the fight of Dioclesian's Fleet, That with himself now rides in Dover-rode, And is by this on shore: and how in France the die of War hath run His Majesty in these Imperial Letters certifies. Thanks for thy news, we'll read them straight. By St. Hugh bones we were all afraid of our own shadows, we shall have no cussing now I see. What news brings Lutius? Comfort my Lord, the error's found; The sudden fire that kindled all this fear, Is now quenched out; the cloud that threatened storms, Is turned to drops of heat: some knavish fellow Hard by the Sea-coast set a Tree on fire, Which seen, men thought that Dover Beacon flamed, And so fired all the rest, and raised the Alarum. I am glad it is no worse; run Bassianus, And sing this comfort to our daughter's ears, I shall my Lord. These Letters of your noble Victories Are as yourself most welcome, on whose head Our brother Dioclesian lays the glory of the Conquest o'er the Vandals and the Goths: He writes, he gave unto thy manly Thigh The sword of Knighthood, wishing us to add more Honours on thee, which at his arrival, His, and our hand shall do with royal bounty. I am your lowly Vassal, royal Sovereign, Dost hear fellow Ralph, methinks I should know this Captain; He looks as like Crispianus as can be? Now Bassianus, speak, how fares our daughter? Alas my Lord, the Court is all in mourning, The Princess with this sudden fear Is fled the Court, not to be found by any. Not to be found, why where's her Nurse? See here she comes. Speak doting Beldame; where's my daughter.
seed 43: T8 · seed 44: T8 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Arme, arme, arme. An you be men, shew your selves so. Why d'ee cry thus? say, whither run yee? Out of our wits I thinke Sir; The Beacons all along the Sea-coast burne most horribly. And what's the cause on't? Because they are a fire Sir: Ten thousand Kentish men Which woefull taile's to tell, are knockt downe like sheepe Sir: The Enemy is landed at Sandwitch, set a shore at Dover, And arrived at Rumny Marsh: harke, I heare the Drummes already. I am amaz'd, what Drumme is this? Stand on your guard. I would your Guard were here for us to stand upon, That we might reach the further: Come, feare nothing Sir; Let your Lords and you stand by, and see How we Shoomakers will thrash 'em. Health to the Emperour from the Roman State. These are our Brittaine friends, new come from France. Whom at your landing saw you up in Armes, That fright the Countrey thus? None my good Lord, not any; From France and Dioclesian thus I bring These Brittaine Souldiers back tryumphant home: The black storme there is laid, and sure these feares That bring these home-bred terrours, all are fas: And as I guesse, the firing of the Beacons, Was at the fight of Dioclesians Fleete, That with himselfe now rides in Dover-rode, And is by this on shore: and how in France the die of War hath run His ajsty in these Imperiall Letters certifies. Thankes for thy newes, Wee'le read them straight. By St. Hugh bones we were all affraid of our owne shadows, we shall have no cussing now I see. What newes brings Lutius? Comfort my Lord, the errour's found; The sudden fire that kindled all this feare, Is now quencht out; the cloud that threatned stormes, Is turn'd to drops of heate: some knavish fellow Hard by the Sea-coast set a Tree on fire, Which seene, men thought that Dover Beacon flam'd, And so fir'd all the rest, and rais'd the Alarum. I am glad it is no worse; run Bassianus, And sing this comfort to our Daughters eares, I shall my Lord. These Letters of your noble Victories Are as your selfe most welcome, on whose head Our brother Dioclesian layes the glory of the Conquest o're the Vandals and the Goths: He writes, he gave unto thy manly Thigh The sword of Kight-hood, wishing us to adde more Honours on thee, which at his arivall, His, and our hand shall doe with royall bounty. I am your lowly Vassall, royall Soveraigne, Dost heare fellow Ralph, Me thinkes I should know this Captaine; He lookes as like Crispianus as can be? Now Bassianus, speake, how fares our daughter? Alas my Lord, the Court is all in mourning, The Princesse with this suddaine feare Is fled the Court, not to be found by any. Not to be found, why where's her Nurse? See here she comes. Speake doating Beldam; where's my daughter.