Marlowe, Christopher · published 1594 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1593] (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 498 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Thy gentle Queen, sole sister to Valois, Complains, that thou hast left her all forlorn. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those, That makes a king seem glorious to the world, I mean the peers, whom thou shouldst dearly love: Libels are cast again thee in the street, Ballads and rhymes, made of thy overthrow. The Northern borderers seeing the houses burned Their wives and children slain, run up and down, Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston. When wert thou in the field with banner spread? But once, and then thy soldiers marched like players, With garish robes, not armour, and thyself Bedaubed with gold, rode laughing at the rest, Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest, Where women's favours hung like labels down. And thereof came it, that the fleering Scots, To England's high disgrace, have made this jig, Maids of England, sore may you mourn, For your lemons you have lost, at Bannocks borne, With a heave and a ho, What weeneth the king of England, So soon to have won Scotland, With a rombelow. Wigmore shall fly, to set my uncle free. And when 'tis gone, our swords shall purchase more, If ye be moved, revenge it as you can, Look next to see us with our ensigns spread. My swelling heart for very anger breaks, How oft have I been baited by these peers? And dare not be revenged, for their power is great: Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels, Affright a Lion? Edward, unfold thy paws, And let their lives blood slake thy furies hunger: If I be cruel, and grow tyrannous, Now let them thank themselves, and rue too late. My lord, I see your love to Gaveston, Will be the ruin of the realm and you, For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars, And therefore brother banish him for ever. Art thou an enemy to my Gaveston? ay, and it grieves me that I favoured him. Traitor be gone, whine thou with Mortimer. So will I, rather than with Gaveston. Out of my sight, and trouble me no more. No marvel though thou scorn thy noble peers, When I thy brother am rejected thus. Away poor Gaveston, that hast no friend but me, Do what they can, we'll live in Tinmoth here, And so I walk with him about the walls, What care I though the Earls be girt us round, Here comes she that's cause of all these jars. My lord, 'tis thought, the Earls are up in arms. ay, and 'tis likewise thought you favour him. Thus do you still suspect me without cause. Sweet uncle speak more kindly to the queen. My lord, dissemble with her, speak her fair. Pardon me sweet, I forgot myself. Your pardon is quickly got of Isabell. The younger Mortimer is grown so brave, That to my face he threatens civil wars. Why do you not commit him to the tower? I dare not, for the people love him well.
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)
Thy gentle Queene, sole sister to Valoys, Complaines, that thou hast left her all forlorne. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those, That makes a king seeme glorious to the world, I meane the peeres, whom thou shouldst dearly loue: Libels are cast againe thee in the streete, Ballads and rimes, made of thy ouerthrow. The Northren borderers seeing the houses burnt Their wiues and children slaine, run vp and downe, Cursing the name of thee and Gaueston. When wert thou in the field with banner spred? But once, and then thy souldiers marcht like players, With garish robes, not armor, and thy selfe Bedaubd with golde, rode laughing at the rest, Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest, Where womens fauors hung like labels downe. And thereof came it, that the fleering Scots, To Englands high disgrace, haue made this Iig, Maids of England, sore may you moorne, For your lemmons you haue lost, at Bannocks borne, With a heaue and a ho, VVhat weeneth the king of England, So soone to haue woone Scotland, With a rombelow. Wigmore shall flie, to set my vnckle free. And when tis gone, our swordes shall purchase more, If ye be moou'de, reuenge it as you can, Looke next to see vs with our ensignes spred. My swelling hart for very anger breakes, How oft haue I beene baited by these peeres? And dare not be reuengde, for their power is great: Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels, Affright a Lion? Edward, vnfolde thy pawes, And let their liues bloud slake thy furies hunger: If I be cruell, and growe tyrannous, Now let them thanke themselues, and rue too late. My lord, I see your loue to Gaueston, VVill be the ruine of the realme and you, For now the wrathfull nobles threaten warres, And therefore brother banish him for euer. Art thou an enemie to my Gaueston? I, and it greeues me that I fauoured him. Traitor be gone, whine thou with Mortimer. So will I, rather then with Gaueston. Out of my sight, and trouble me no more. No maruell though thou scorne thy noble peeres, VVhen I thy brother am reiected thus. Away poore Gaueston, that hast no friend but me, Do what they can, weele liue in Tinmoth here, And so I walke with him about the walles, VVhat care I though the Earles be girt vs round, Heere comes she thats cause of all these iarres. My lord, tis thought, the Earles are vp in armes. I, and tis likewise thought you fauour him. Thus do you still suspect me without cause. Sweet vnckle speake more kindly to the queene. My lord, dissemble with her, speake her faire. Pardon me sweet, I forgot my selfe. Your pardon is quicklie got of Isabell. The yonger Mortimer is growne so braue, That to my face he threatens ciuill warres. VVhy do you not commit him to the tower? I dare not, for the people loue him well.