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 · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Sweet prince of Wales, were I within thine arms, Then should I in peace possess my love, And heavens open fair their crystal gates, That I may see the palace or my intent. Lluellen set try brother free, Let me have him, thou shalt have Elinor. Sooth Edward I do prize my Elinor, Dearer than life, but there belongeth more To these affairs, than my content in love: And to be short, if thou wilt have thy man, Of whom I swear thou thinkest over well, The safety of Lluellen and his men, Must be regarded highly in this match, Say therefore and be short, wilt thou give peace And pardon to Lluellen and his men. I will herein have time to be advised. King Edward no, we will admit no pause, For goes this wretch, this wretch to the pot, And if Lluellen be pursued so near, May chance to show thee such a tumbling cast, As e'er our father, when he thought to scape, And broke his neck from Iulius Caesar's town. My lord these rebels all are desperate. And Mortimor of all most miserable. How say you Welshmen, will you leave your arms, And be true liegemen unto Edward's crown? If Edward pardon surely what is past, Upon conditions we are all content. Belike you will condition with us then. Special conditions for our safety first, And for our country Cambria's common good, T'avoid the fusion of our guilty blood. Go to, say on. First for our followers and ourselves and all, We ask a pardon in the PRINCE's word, Then for this Lords possession in his love: But for our Country cheer these bones we beg, And England's promise princely to thy Wails, That none be Cambria's prince to govern us, But he that is a Welshman borne in Wales. Grant this and swear it on thy knightly sword, And have thy man, and us, and all in peace. Why Cambria Britain's are you so incensed, Will you deliver me to Edward's hands? No lord Lluellen we will back for thee, Thy life, thy love, and golden liberty. A truce with honourable conditions ta'en, Wales happiness, England's glory, and my bane. Command retreat be sounded in our camp, Soldiers I grant at full what you request, David good cheer, Lluellen open the gates. The gates are opened, enter thee and thine. The sweetest sun that ere I saw to shine. Madam, a brabble well begun for thee, Be thou my guest, and sir Lluellen's love. Mortimor, a brabble ill began for thee, A truce with capital conditions ta'en: A prisoner saved and ransomed with thy life, Edward my king, my Lord and lover dear, Full little dost thou wot, how this retreat. As with a sword, hath slain poor Mortimor. Farewell the flower the gem of beauty's blaze, Sweet Ellen, miracle of nature's hand, Fuellen in thy name, but heaven is in thy looks, Sweet Venus let me saint or devil be, In that sweet heaven or hell that is in thee,
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)
Sweet prince of Wales, were I within thine armes, Then should I in peace possesse my loue, And heauens open faire their christall gates, That I may see the pallace or my intent. Lluellen set try brother free, Let me haue him, thou thalt haue Elinor. Sooth Edward I do prize my Elinor, Deerer then life, but there belongeth more To these affaires, than my content in loue: And to be short, if thou wilt haue thy man, Of whome I sweare thou thinkest ouer well, The safetie of Lluellen and his men, Must be regarded highlie in this matche, Say therefore and be short, wilt thou giue peace And pardon to Lluellen and his men. I will haue time to be aduizd. King Edward no, we will admit no pause, For goes this wretch, this wreth to the pot, And Lluellen be pursued so neere, May chance to showe thee such a tumbling cast, As er our father, when he thought to scape, And broke his neck from Iulius Casars towne. My lord these rebels all are desperate. And Mortimor of all most misetable. How say you Welshmen, will you leaue your armes, And be true liegemen vnto Edwards crowne? If Edward pardon surely what is past, Vpon conditions we are all content. B like you will condition with vs then. Speciall conditions for our safetie first, And for our countrie Cambrias common good, T'auoide the fusion of our guiltie bloud. Go to, say on. First for our folowers and our selues and all, We aske a pardon in the Princes word, Then for this Lords possession in his loue: But for our Countrie these boones we beg, And Englands promise princely to thy Wailes, That none be Cambrias prince to gouerne vs, Bt he that is a Welshman borne in Wales. Graunt this and sweare it on thy knightly sword, And haue thy man, and vs, and all in peace. Whie Cambria Britaines are you so incensed, VVill you deliuer me to Edwards hands? No lord Lluellen we will backe for thee, Thy life, thy loue, and golden libertie. A tiuce with honourable conditions tane, VVales happines, Englands glo, and my bane. Commaund retreat be sounded in our campe, Souldiers I graunt at full what you request, Dauid good cheere, Lluellen open the gates. The gates are opened, enter thee and thine. The sweetest sunne that ere I saw to shine. Madam, a brabble well begun for thee, Be thou my guest, and sir Lluellens loue. Mortimor, a brable ill beganne for thee, A truce with capitall conditions tane: A prisoner sau'd and raunsomd with thy life, Edward my king, my Lord and louer deare, Full little doost thou wot, how this retreat. As with a sword, hath slaine poore Mortimor. Farewell the flower the gem of beauties blaze, Sweete Ellen, mircle of natures and, Fuellen in thy name, but heauen is in thy lookes, Sweete Venus let me sct or diuel be, In that sweet heauen or hell that is in thee,