The Reign of King Edward the Third · chunk 4 of 39
Anonymous / Shakespeare, William · published 1596 · first performed or written 1590 [c.1590-1595] (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) 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.
take my leave and fairly will return Your acceptable greeting to my king. Now Douglas to our former task again, For the division of this certain spoil. My liege I crave the Lady and no more, Nay soft ye sir, first I must make my choice, And first I do bespeak her for myself, Why then my liege let me enjoy her jewels, Those are her own still liable to her, And who inherits her, hath those with all. My liege, as we were pricking on the hills, To fetch in booty, marching hitherward, We might descry a mighty host of men, The Sun reflecting on the armour showed, A field of plate, a wood of picks advanced: Bethink your highness speedily herein, An easy march within four hours will bring, The hindmost rank, unto this place my liege. Dislodge, dislodge, it is the king of England. Iemmy my man, saddle my bonny black. Meanst thou to fight, Douglas we are to weak. I know it well my liege, and therefore fly. My Lords of Scotland will ye stay and drink: She mocks at us Douglas, I cannot endure it. Say good my Lord, which is he must have the Lady, And which her jewels, I am sure my Lords Ye will not hence, till you have shared the spoils. she heard the messenger, and heard our talk. And now that comfort makes her scorn at us. Arm my good Lord, O we are all surprised. After the French ambassador my liege, And tell him that you dare not ride to York, Excuse it that your bonny horse is lame. He heard that to, intolerable grief: Woman farewell although I do not stay. 'tis not for fear, and yet you run away, O happy comfort welcome to our house, The confident and boisterous boasting Scot, That swore before my walls they would not back, For all the armed power of this land, With faceless fear that ever turns his back: Turned hence again the blasting North-east wind: Upon the bare report and name of Arms. O summers day, see where my cousin comes: How fares my Aunt? we are not Scots, Why do you shut your gates against your friends? Well may I give a welcome cousin to thee: For thou comest well to chase my foes from hence. The king himself is come in person hither: Dear Aunt descend and gratulate his highness. How may I entertain his Majesty, To show my duty, and his dignity. What are the stealing Foxes fled and gone Before we could uncouple at their heels. They are my liege, but with a cheerful cry, Hot hounds and hardy chase them at the heels. This is the Countess Warwick, is it not. even she liege, whose beauty tyrant's fear, As a May blossom with pernicious winds, Hath sullied, withered overcast and done. Hath she been fairer Warwick than she is?
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)
take my leaue and fayrely will returne Your acceptable greeting to my king. Now Duglas to our former taske again, For the deuiſion of this certayne ſpoyle. My liege I craue the Ladie and no more, Nay ſoft ye ſir, firſt I muſt make my choyſe, And firſt I do beſpeake her for my ſelf, Why then my liege let me enioy her iewels, Thoſe are her owne ſtill liable to her, And who inherits her, hath thoſe with all. My liege, as we were pricking on the hils, To fetch in booty, marching hitherward, We might diſcry a mighty hoſt of men, The Sunne reflicting on the armour ſhewed, A field of plate, a wood of pickes aduanced: Bethinke your highnes ſpeedely herein, An eaſie march within foure howres will bring, The hindmoſt rancke, vnto this place my liege. Diſlodge, diſlodge, it is the king of England. Iemmy my man, ſaddle my bonny blacke. Meanſt thou to fight, Duglas we are to weake. I know it well my liege, and therefore flie. My Lords of Scotland will ye ſtay and drinke: She mocks at vs Duglas, I cannot endure it. Say good my Lord, which is he muſt haue the Ladie, And which her iewels, I am ſure my Lords Ye will not hence, till you haue ſhard the ſpoyles. Shee heard the meſſenger, and heard our talke. And now that comfort makes her ſcorne at vs. Arme my good Lord, O we are all ſurpriſde▪ After the French embaſſador my liege, And tell him that you dare not ride to Yorke, Excuſe it that your bonnie horſe is lame. He heard that to, intollerable griefe: Woman farewell although I do not ſtay. Tis not for feare, and yet you run away, O happie comfort welcome to our houſe, The confident and boyſtrous boaſting Scot, That ſwore before my walls they would not backe, For all the armed power of this land, With faceleſſe feare that euer turnes his backe: Turnd hence againe the blaſting North-eaſt winde: Vpon the bare report and name of Armes. O Sommers day, ſee where my Coſin comes: How fares my Aunt? we are not Scots, Why do you ſhut your gates againſt your friends? Well may I giue a welcome Coſin to thee: For thou conſt well to chaſe my foes from hence. The king himſelfe is come in perſon hither: Deare Aunt diſcend and gratulate his highnes. How may I entertayne his Maieſtie, To ſhew my duety, and his dignitie. What are the ſtealing Foxes fled and gone Before we could vncupple at their heeles. They are my liege, but with a cheereful cry, Hot hunds and hardie chaſe them at the heeles. This is the Counteſſe Warwike, is it not. Euen ſhee liege, whoſe beauty tyrants feare, As a May bloſſome with pernitious winds, Hath ſullied, withered ouercaſt and donne. Hath ſhe been fairer Warwike then ſhe is?