Peele, George · published 1593 · first performed or written 1591 [1590-1593] (Annals) history · Unknown unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Now brave Iohn Balliol Lord of Gallaway, And king of Scots shine with thy golden head, Shake thy spears in honour of his name, Under whose royalty thou wear'st the same. The welkin spangled through with golden spots, Reflects no finer in a frosty night, Then lovely Longshanks in his Elinor's eye: So Ned thy Nell in every part of thee, Thy person's guarded with a troup of Queens, And every Queen as brave as Elinor, Give glory to these glorious crystal quarries, Where every rob an object entertains, Of rich device and princely majesty. Thus like Narcissus diving in the deep, I die in honour and in England's arms: And if I drown, it is in my delight. Whose company is chiefest life in death, From forth whose coral lips I suck the sweet, Wherewith are dainty Cupid's candles made, Then live or die brave Ned, or sink or swim, An earthly bliss it is to look on him, On thee sweet Ned, it shall become thy Nell, Bounteous to be unto the beauteous, o'er pry the palms sweet fountains of my bliss; And I will stand on tiptoe for a kiss. He had no thought of any gentle heart, That would not seize desire for such desert, If any heavenly joy in women be, Sweet of all sweets, sweet Nell it is in thee. Now lords along by this the Earl of Marche, Lord Mortimor o'er Cambria's mountain tops, Hath ranged his men, and feels Lluellen's mind, To which confines that well in wasting be, Our solemn service of coronation past, We will amain to back our friends at need, And into to Wales our men at arms shall march, And we with them in person foot by foot. Brother of Scotland, you shall to your home, And live in honour there fair England friend. And thou sweet Nell Queen of king Edward's heart. Shall now come lesser at thy dainty love, And at coronation meet thy loving peers, When storms are past, and we have cooled the rage Of these rebellious Welshmen that contend, 'gainst England's majesty, and Edward's crown. Sound Trumpets heralds lead the train along, This be king Edward's feast and holly day. Glocester, who may this be, a bride or what? I pray ye Joan go see, And know the reason of the harmony. Good woman let it not ostend you any whit, For to deliver unto me the cause, That in this unusual kind of sort, You pass the streets with music so. Mistress or Madam whate'er you be, Wot you I am the Maior of London's wife, Who for I have been delivered of a son, Having not these dozen years had any before, Now in my husband's year of Mayoralty, Bringing him a goodly boy, I pass unto my house a maiden bride, Which private pleasure touching godliness, Shall hear no way I hope offend the good.
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)
Now braue Iohn Balioll Lord of Gallaway, And king of Scots shine with thy goulden head, Shake thy speres in honour of his name, Vnder whose roialtie thou wearst the same. The welken spangled through with goulden spots, Reflects no finer in a frostie night, Then louely Longshankes in his Elinors eye: So Ned thy Nell in euery part of thee, Thy person's garded with a troope of Queenes, And euery Queene as braue as Elinor, Giue glorie to these glorious chstall quarries, Where euery robe an obiect entertaines, Of riche deuice and princelie maiestie. Thus like Narcissus diuing in the deepe, I die in honour and in Englands armes: And if I drowne, it is in my delight. Whose companie is cheefest life in death, From foorth whose currall lips I suck the sweete, VVherewith are daintie Cupids candles made, Then liue or die braue Ned, or sinke or swim, An earthlie blisse it is to looke on him, On thee sweete Ned, it shall become thy Nell, Bo unteous to be vnto the beauteous, Ore prie the palmes sweete fountaines of my blisse; And I will stand on tiptoe for a kisse. He had no thought of any gentle heart, That would not seaze desire for such desart, If any heauenly ioy in women be, Sweet of ll sweetes, sweete Nell it is in thee. Now lords along by this the Earle of Marche, Lord Mortimor ore Cambriaes mountaine tops, Hath rang'd his men, and feeles Lluellens minde, To which cones that we in wasting be, Our sollene seruice of coronation past, We amaine to backe our friends at neede, And to Wales our men at armes shall march, And we with them in person foote by foote. Brother of Scotland, you shall to your home, And liue in honour there faire England friend. And thou sweet Nell Queene of king Edwards heart. Shall now come at thy daintie loue, And at corontion meete thy louing peeres, When stormes are past, and we haue coolde the rage Of these rebellious Welshmen that contend, Gainst Englands maiestie, and Edwards crowne. Sound Trumpets Harolds lead the traine along, This be king Edwards feast and hollie daie. Glocester, who may this be, a bride or what? I praie yee goe see, And know the reason of the harmonie. Good woman let it not ostend you any whit, For to deliuer vnto me the cause, That in this vnusuall kinde of sort, You passe the streetes with so. Mistres or Madam what ere you be, Wot you I am the Maior of Londons wife, Who for I haue beene deliuered of a sonne, Hauing not these doozen yeares had any before, Now in my husbands yeare of Maoltie, Bringing him a goodly boye, I passe vnto my house a maiden bride, Which priuate pleasure touching godlinesse, Shall here no waye I hope offend the good.