Peele, George · published 1593 · first performed or written 1591 [1590-1593] (Annals) history · Unknown T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho typicality 0.75 · 519 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Nobles of Scotland, we thank you all, For this days gentle princely service done, To Edward England's king and Scotland's lord: Our Coronations due solemnity, Is ended with applause of all estates. Now then let us appose and rest us here, But specially we thank you gentle lords, That you so well have governed your griefs, As being grown unto a age all jar, You choose king Edward by your Messengers, To calm, to qualify, and to compound: Thank Britain's strife of Scotland's climbing peers. I have no doubt fair lords but you well wot, How factions waste the richest Commonwealth, And discord spoils the seats of mighty kings. The baron's wars, a tragic wicked war, Nobles how hath it shaken England's strength? Industriously it seems to me you have, Loyally ventured to prevent this shock, For which sith you have chosen me your judge, My lord, will you stand to what I shall award? Victorious Edward, to whom the Scottish kings Owe homage as their lord and sovereign, Amongst us nine, is but one lawful king: But might we all be judges in the case, Then should in Scotland be nine kings at once, And this contention never set or limited, To stay these jars we jointly make appeal, To thy imperial throne, who knows our claims, We stand not on our titles before your grace, But do submit ourselves to your award, And whom your Majesty shall name to be our king, To him we'll yield obedience as a king, Thus willingly, and of their own accord, Doth Scotland make great England's king their judge. Then nobles since you all agree in one, That for a crown so disagree in all, Since what I do shall rest irrevocable, And lovely England to thy lovely Queen, Lovely Queen Elinor, unto her turn thy eye, Whose honour cannot but love thee well, Hold up your hands in sight, with general voice, That are content to stand to our award. Deliver me the golden Diadem. Lo here I hold the goal for which ye strived, And here behold my worthy men at arms, For chivalry and worthy wisdoms praise, Worthy each one to wear a Diadem, Expect my doom, as erst at I da hills, The Goddesses divine waited the award, Of Danae's son: Balliol stand farthest forth, Balliol behold I give thee the Scottish crown, Wear it with heart and with thankfulness: Sound Trumpets, and say all after me, God save king Balliol the Scottish king. Thus lords though you require no reason why, According to the conscience in the cause, I make Iohn Balliol your anointed king: Honour and love him as behooves him best, That is in peace of Scotland's crown possessed. Thanks royal England for thy honour done, This justice that hath calmed our civil strife: Shall now be ceased with honourable love, So moved of remorse and pity, We will erect a college of my name, In Oxford will I build for memory, Of Balliol's bounty and his gratitude: And let me happy days no longer see, Then here to England loyal I shall be.
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)
Nobles of Scotland, we thanke you all, For this daies gentle princelie seruice done, To Edward Englands king and Scotlands lord: Our Coronations due sollen nitie, Is ended with applause of all estates. Now then let vs appose and rest vs heere, But speciallie we thanke you gentle lords, That you so well haue gouerned your geefes, As being growne vnto a ag all arre, You choose king Edward by your Messengers, To calme, to qualifie, and to compound: Thanke Britains strife of Scotlands climing peeres. I haue no doubt faire lords but you well wot, How factions waste the ritchest Commonwealth, And discord spoiles the seates of mightie kings. The Barons warres, a tragicke wicked warre, Nobles how hath i shaken Englands strength? Industriouslie it seemes to me you haue, Loiallie ventured to preuent this shock, For which sith you haue chosen me your iudge, My lord, wil you stand to what I shall awrd? Victorious Edward, to whom the Scottish kings Owe ho age as their lorde and soueraigne, Amongst vs nine, is but one lawfull king: But might we all be iudges in the case, Then should in Scotland be nine kings at once, And this contention neuer set or limited, To staie these iarres we iointlie make appeale, To thy imperiall throne, who knowes our claimes, We stand not on our titles before your grace, But do submit our selues to your awarde, And whome your Maiestie shall name to be our king, To him weele yeeld obedience as a king, Thus willinglie, and of their owne accorde, Doth Scotland make great Englands king their iudge. Then nobles since you all agree in one, That for a crowne so disagree in all, Since what I do shall rest inreuocable, And louelie England to thy louely Queene, Louelie Queene Elinor, vnto her turne thy eye, Whose honor cannot but loue thee wel, Holde vp your hands in sight, with generall voice, That are content to stand to our award. Deliuer me the golden Diadem. Loe here I holde the goale for which ye striued, And heere behold my worthie men at armes, For chiualrie and worthie wisdomes praise, Worthie each one to weare a Diadem, Expect my doome, as erst at I da hilles, The Goddesses deuine waited the award, Of Danaes sonne: Balioll stand farthest forth, Baliol behold I giue thee the Scottish crowne, Weare it with heart and with thankfulnes: Sound Trumpets, and say all after me, God saue king Baliol the Scottish king. Thus lords though you require no reason why, According to the conscince in the cause, I make Iohn Balioll your anointed king: Honor and loue him as behooues him best, That is in peace of Scotlands crowne possest. Thankes roiall England for thy honor doone, This iustice that hath calmd our ciuell strife: Shall now be ceast with honourable loue, So mooued of remorce and pittie, We will erect a colledge of my name, In Oxford will I build for memorie, Of Baliols bountie and his gratitude: And let me happie daies no longer see, Then heere to England loyall I shall bee.