The Reign of King Edward the Third · chunk 3 of 39
Anonymous / Shakespeare, William · published 1596 · first performed or written 1590 [c.1590-1595] (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea typicality 0.82 · 543 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Ignoble David hast thou none to grieve, But silly Ladies with thy threatening arms: But I will make you shrink your snaily horns, First therefore Audley this shallbe thy charge, Go levy footmen for our wars in France; And Ned take muster of our men at arms, In every shire elect a several band, Let them be Soldiers of a lusty spirit, Such as dread nothing but dishonours blot, Be wary therefore since we do commence, A famous War, and with so mighty a nation: Derby be thou Ambassador for us, Unto our Father in Law the Earl of Henalt: Make him acquainted with our enterprise, And likewise will him with our own allies, That are in Flanders, to solicit to, The Emperor of Almaigne in our name: Myself whilst you are jointly thus employed, Will with these forces that I have at hand, March, and once more repulse the traitorous Scot: But Sirs be resolute, we shall have wars On every side, and Ned, thou must begin, Now to forget thy study and thy books, And ire thy shoulders to an Armours weight. As cheerful sounding to my youthful spleen, This tumult is of wars increasing broils, As at the Coronation of a king, The joyful clamours of the people are, When Ave Cesar they pronounce aloud; Within this school of honour I shall learn, Either to sacrifice my foes to death, Or in a rightful quarrel spend my breath, Then cheerfully forward each a several way, In great affairs 'tis nought to use delay. Alas how much in vain my poor eyes gaze, For succour that my sovereign should send; A cousin Montague, I fear thou wants, The lively spirit sharply to solicit, With vehement suit the king in my behalf: Thou dost not tell him what a grief it is, To be the scornful captive to a Scot, Either to be wooed with broad untuned oaths, Or forced by rough insulting barbarism: Thou dost not tell him if he here prevail, How much they will deride us in the North, And in their vild uncivil skipping gigs, Bray forth their Conquest, and our overthrow, Even in the barren, bleak and fruitless air, I must withdraw, the everlasting so, Comes to the wall, I'll closely step aside, And list their babble blunt and full of pride. My Lord of Lorraine, to our brother of France, Commend us as the man in Christendom, That we must reverence and entirely love, Touching your embassage, return and say, That we with England will not enter parley, Nor never make fair wether, or take truce, But burn their neighbour towns and so persist With eager Rods beyond their City York, And never shall our bonny rider's rest: Nor rust in canker, have the time to eat, Their light borne snaffles, nor their nimble spu Nor lay aside their jacks of Gymould mail, Nor hang their staves of grained Scottish ash, In peaceful wise, upon their City walls, Nor from their buttoned tawny leathern belts, Dismiss their biting whinyards, till your King, Cry out enough, spare England now for pity, Farewell, and tell him that you leave us hear, Before this Castle, say you came from us, Even when we had that yielded to our hands,
seed 43: T8 · seed 44: T8 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Ignoble Dauid haſt thou none to greeue, But ſilly Ladies with thy threatning armes: But I will make you ſhrinke your ſnailie hornes, Firſt therefore Audley this ſhalbe thy charge, Go leuie footemen for our warres in Fraunce; And Ned take muſter of our men at armes, In euery ſhire elect a ſeuerall band, Let them be Souldiers of a luſtie ſpirite, Such as dread nothing but diſhonors blot, Be warie therefore ſince we do comence, A famous Warre, and with ſo mighty a nation: Derby be thou Embaſſador for vs, Vnto our Father in Law the Earle of Henalt: Make him acquainted with our enterpriſe, And likewiſe will him with our owne allies, That are in Flaundsrs, to ſolicite to, The Emperour of Almaigne in our name: Myſelfe whilſt you are ioyntly thus employd, Will with theſe forces that I haue at hand, March, and once more repulſe the trayterous Scot: But Sirs be reſolute, we ſhal haue warres On euery ſide, and Ned, thou muſt begin, Now to forget thy ſtudy and thy bookes, And yre thy ſhoulders to an Armors weight. As cheereful ſounding to my youthfull ſpleene, This tumult is of warres increaſing broyles, As at the Coronation of a king, The ioyfull clamours of the people are, When Aue Cſar they pronounce alowd; Within this ſchoole of honor I ſhal learne, Either to ſacrifice my foes to death, Or in a rightfull quarrel ſpend my breath, Then cheerefully forward ech a ſeuerall way, In great affaires tis nought to vſe delay. Alas how much in vaine my poore eyes gaze, For ſouccour that my ſoueraigne ſhould ſend; A co ſin Mountague, I feare thou wants, The liuely ſpirirt ſharpely to ſolicit, Wth vehement ſute the king in my behalfe: Thou doſt not tell him what a griefe it is, To be the ſcornefull captiue to a Scot, Either to be wooed with broad vntuned othes, Or forſt by rough inſulting barbariſme: Thou doeſt not tell him if he heere preuaile, How much they will deride vs in the North, And in their vild vnſeuill skipping giggs, Bray foorth their Conqueſt, and our ouerthrow, Euen in the barraine, bleake and fruitleſſe aire, I muſt withdraw, the euerlaſting ſoe, Comes to the wall, Ile cloſely ſtep aſide, And liſt their babble blunt and full of pride. My Lord of Lorrayne, to our brother of Fraunce, Commend vs as the man in Chriſtendome, That we muſt reuerence and intirely loue, Touching your embaſſage, returne and ſay, That we with England will not enter parlie, Nor neuer make faire wether, or take truce, But burne their neighbor townes and ſo perſiſt With eager Rods beyond their Citie Yorke, And neuer ſhall our bonny riders reſt: Nor ruſt in canker, haue the time to eate, Their light borne ſnaffles, nor their nimble ſpu Nor lay a ſide their Iacks of Gymould mayle, Nor hang their ſtaues of grayned Scottiſh aſh, In peacefull wiſe, vpon their Citie wals, Nor from their buttoned tawny leatherne belts, Diſmiſſe their byting whinyards, till your King, Cry out enough, ſpare England now for pittie, Farewell, and tell him that you leaue vs heare, Before this Caſtle, ſay you came from vs, Euen when we had that yeelded to our hands,