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 · 530 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
By sweet Saint Ierem Versses will not spare, To tell his message to the English King: And beard the jolly Longshanks to his face, Were he the greatest Monarch in the world, And here he comes his halter makes him haste. Long live my lord the rightful King of Scots. Welcome Versses, what news from England? Like to the measure of Scotland's King? Versses my Lord in terms like to himself, Like to the messenger of Scottish King, Ded the Peares of England and their lords, That all his Barons trembles at my threats, And Longshanks himself as daunted and amazed, Gazed on my face not witting what to say: Till rousing up he shaked his threating hair, Versses quoth he take thou King Edward's chain, Upon condition, thou a message do, To Balliol false, perjured Balliol. For in these terms he bade me greet your Grace, And gave this halter to your excellences, I took the chain and gave your Grace the rope. You took the chain and give my Grace the rope, Lay hold on him, why miscreant recreant, And darest thou bring a halter to thy King? But I will quite thy pain, and in that chain, Upon a silver Gallows shalt thou hang, That honoured with a golden rope of England, And a silver Gibbet of Scotland, Thou mayst hang in the air for fowls to feed upon, And men to wonder at, away with him away. Strike up the drum, follow, pursue and chase, Follow, pursue, spare not the proudest he, That havocs England's sacred royalty. Now fits the time to purge our melancholy, and be revenged upon this London Dame. Katherina. At hand Madam. Bring forth our London Maris here. I will Madam. Now Nell bethink thee of some tortures for the Dame: And purge thy choler to the uttermost, Now mistress Maris you have attendance urged, And therefore to requite your courtesy, Our mind is to bestow an office on you straight. myself, my life, and service mighty Queen, are humbly at your majesties command. Then mistress Maris say whether will you be our Nurse or laundress. Then may it please your Majesty, to entertain your handmaid for your Nurse, she will attend the cradle carefully. O no Nurse, the Babe needs no great rocking, it can lull itself, Katherina bind her in the chair, and let me see how she'll become a Nurse, so now Katherin draw forth her breast and let the Serpent suck his fill, why so now she is a Nurse, suck on sweet Babe. Ah Queen sweet Queen, seek not my blood to spill: For I shall die before this Adder have his fill. Die or die not, my mind is fully pleased, Come Katherina to London now will we, And leave our Maris with her nursery. Farewell sweet Maris look unto the Babe. Farewell proud Queen the Author of my death, The scourge of England and to English dames: Ah husband sweet Iohn Bearmber Maior of London, Ah didst thou know how Mary is perplexed, Soon wouldst thou come to Wales and rid me of this pain. But oh I die, my wish is all in vain.
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)
By sweet Saint Ierem Versses will not spare, To tell his message to the English King: And beard the iolly Longshankes to his face, VVere he the greatest Monarch in the world, And here he comes his halter makes him hast. Long liue my lord the rightfull King of Scots. Welcome Versses, what newes from England? Like to the measure of Scotlands King? Versses my Lord in tearmes like to himselfe, Like to the messenger of Scottish King, Ded the Peares of England and their lords, That all his Barons trembles at my threats, And Longsharkes himselfe as dainted and amased, Gazde on my face not witting what to say: Till rouzing vp he shakte his threating haire, Versses quoth he take thou King Edwards chaine, Vppon condicion, thou a message doe, To Balioll false, periurde Balioll. For in these tearmes he bad me greete your Grace, And gaue this halter to your excellences, I tooke the chaine and gaue your Grace the rope. You tooke the chaine and giue my Grace the rope, Lay hold on him, why miscreāt recreant, And darst thou bring a halter to thy King? But I will quite thy paine, and in that chaine, Vppon a siluer Gallowes shalt thou hang, That honored with a golden rope of England, And a siluer Gibbet of Scotland, Thou maist hang in the aire for fowles to feede vppon, And men to wonder at, awaie with him away. Strike vp th drum, follow, pursue and chase, Follow, pursue, spare not the proudest he, That hauocks Englands sacred roialty. Now fits the time to purge our melancholly, and bee reenged vppon this London Dame. Katherina. At hand Madam. Bring forth our London Maris here. I will Madam. Now Nell be thinke thee of some tortures for the Dame: And purge thy choller to the vttermost, Now mistres Maris you haue attendance vrgde, And therefore to requite your curtesie, Our minde is to bestow an office on you straight. My selfe, my life, and seruice mighty Queen, are humblie at your Maiesties commaund. Then mistres Maris saie whether will you be our Nurse or Landeres. Then maie it please your Maiestie, to entertaine your handmaide for your Nurse, shee will attende the craddle carefully. O no Nurse, the Babe needes no great rockeing, it can lull it selfe, Katherina binde her in the chaire, and let me see how sheele become a Nurse, so now Katherin draw forth her brest and let the Serpent sucke his fil, why so now shee is a Nurse, sucke on sweet Babe. Ah Queene sweete Queene, seeke not my bloud to spill: For I shal die before this Adder haue his fil. Die or die not, my minde is fullie pleased, Come Katherina to London now wil we, And leaue our Maris with her nurserie. Farewel sweete Maris looke vnto the Babe. Farewel proud Queen the Autor of my death, The scourge of England and to English dames: Ah husband sweete Iohn Bearmber Maior of London, Ah didst thou know how Mary is perplext, Soone wouldst thou come to Wales and rid me of this paine. But oh I die, my wishe is al in vaine.