Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Pleaseth your Grace, the Earl of Salisbury, Pembroke, Essex, Clare, and Arundel, with all the Barons that did fight for thee, are on a sudden fled with all their powers, to join with Iohn, to drive thee back again. Lewes' my Lord, why stand'st thou in a maze? Gather thy troops, hope not of help from France, For all thy forces being fifty sail, Containing twenty thousand soldiers, With victual and munition for the war, Putting them from Calais in unlucky time, Did cross the seas, and on the Goodwin sands, The men, munition, and the ships are lost. More news? say on. Iohn (my Lord with all his scattered troops, Flying the fury of your conquering sword, As Pharaoh erst within the bloody sea, So he and his environed with the tide, On Lincoln washes all were overwhelmed, The Barons fled, our forces cast away. Was ever heard such unexpected news? Yet Lodowick revive thy dying heart, King Iohn and all his forces are consumed. The less thou needst the aid of English Earls, The less thou needst to grieve thy navies wrack, And follow times advantage with success. Brave Frenchmen armed with magnanimity, March after Lewes, who will lead you on To chase the Baron's power that wants a head, For Iohn is drowned, and I am England's King. Though our munition and our men be lost, Philip of France will send us fresh supplies. Dispatch, dispatch, the King desires to eat, Would a might eat his last for the love he bears to church men. I am of thy mind too, and so it should be and we might be our own carvers. I marvel why they dine here in the Orchard. I know not, nor I care not. The King comes. Come on Lord Abbot, shall we sit together? Pleaseth your Grace sit down. Take your places sirs, no pomp in penury, all beggars and friends may come, where Necessity keeps the house, courtesy is barred the table, sit down Philip. My Lord, I am loath to allude so much to the proverb, honours change manners: a king is a king, though Fortune do her worst, & we as dutiful in despite of her frown, as if your highness were now in the highest type of dignity. Come, no more ado, and you tell me much of dignity, you'll mar my appetite in a surfeit of sorrow. What cheer Lord Abbot, me thinks ye frown like an host that knows his guest hath no money to pay the reckoning? No my Liege, if I frown at all, it is for I fear this cheer too homely to entertain so mighty a guest as your majesty. I think rather, my Lord Abbot, you remember my last being here, when I went in progress for pouches, and the rancour of his heart breaks out in his countenance, to show he hath not forgot me. Not so my Lord, you, and the meanest follower of his majesty, are heartily welcome to me.
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)
Pleaſeth your Grace, the Earle of Salsbury, Penbrooke, Eſſex, Clare, and Arundell, with all the Barons that did fight for thee, are on a ſodaine fled with all their powers, to ioyne with Iohn, to driue thee backe againe. Lewes my Lord, why ſtandſt thou in a maze? Gather thy troupes, hope not of helpe from Fraunce, For all thy forces being fiftie ſaile, Containing twenty thouſand ſouldiers, With victuall and munition for the warre, Putting them from Callis in vnluckie time, Did croſſe the ſeas, and on the Goodwin ſands, The men, munition, and the ſhips are loſt. More newes? ſay on. Iohn (my Lord ith all his ſcattered troups, Flying the fury of your conquering ſword, As Pharaoh earſt within the bloody ſea, So he and his enuironed with the tide, On Lincolne waſhes all were ouerwhelmed, The Barons fled, our forces caſt away. Was euer heard ſuch vnexpected newes? Yet Lodowike reuiue thy dying heart, King Iohn and all his forces are conſumde. The leſſe thou needſt the aid of Engliſh Earles, The leſſe thou needſt to grieue thy nauies wracke, And follow times aduantage with ſucceſſe. Braue Frenchmen arm'd with magnanimitie, March after Lewes, who will leade you on To chaſe the Barons power that wants a head, For Iohn is drown'd, and I am Englands King. Though our munition and our men be loſt, Philip of Fraunce will ſend vs freſh ſupplies. Diſpatch, diſpatch, the King deſires to eate, Would a might eate his laſt for the loue he bears to church men. I am of thy mind too, and ſo it ſhould be and we might be our owne caruers. I maruell why they dine here in the Orchard. I know not, nor I care not. The King comes. Come on Lord Abbot, ſhall we ſit together? Pleaſeth your Grace ſit downe. Take your places ſirs, no pomp in penury, all beggers and friends may come, where Neceſſitie keepes the houſe, curteſie is barr'd the table, ſit downe Philip. My Lord, I am loth to allude ſo much to the prouerb, honors change maners: a king is a king, though Fortune do her worſt, & we as dutifull in deſpite of her frown, as if your highnes were now in the higheſt tipe of dignitie. Come, no more adoe, and you tell mee much of dignity, you'l marre my appetite in a ſurfet of ſorrow. What cheere Lord Abbot, me thinks ye frown like an hoſt that knows his gueſt hath no money to pay the reckning? No my Liege, if I frowne at all, it is for I feare this cheere too homely to entertaine ſo mighty a gueſt as your maieſtie. I thinke rather, my Lord Abbot, you remember my laſt being here, when I went in progreſſe for powches, and the rancor of his heart breakes out in his countenance, to ſhew he hath not forgot me. Not ſo my Lord, you, and the meaneſt follower of his maieſty, are heartily welcome to me.