The Reign of King Edward the Third · chunk 18 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 0.85 · 439 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
They having knowledge, brought them by the scouts, Did break from Anchor straight, and puffed with rage, No otherwise than were their sails with wind, Made forth, as when the empty Eagle flies, To satisfy his hungry griping maw. These for thy news, return unto thy bark, And if thou scape the bloody strooke of war, And do survive the conflict, come again, And let us hear the manner of the fight, Mean space my Lords, 'tis best we be dispersed, To several places lest they chance to land: First you my Lord, with your Bohemian Troops, Shall pitch your battles on the lower hand, My eldest son the Duke of Normandie, Together with this aid of Muscovites, Shall climb the higher ground another way: Here in the middle cost betwixt you both, Philip my youngest boy and I will lodge, So Lords begone, and look unto your charge. You stand for France, an Empire fair and large, Now tell me Philip, what is their concept, Touching the challenge that the English make. I say my Lord, claim Edward what he can, And bring he near so plain a pedigree, 'tis you are in possession of the Crown, And that's the surest point of all the Law: But were it not, yet ere he should prevail, I'll make a Conduit of my dearest blood, Or chase those straggling upstarts home again, Well said young Philip, call for bread and Wine, That we may cheer our stomachs with repast, To look our foes more sternly in the face. Now is begun the heavy day at Sea, Fight Frenchmen, fight, be like the field of Bears, When they defend their younglings in their Caves: Stir angry Nemesis the happy helm, That with the sulphur battles of your rage, The English Fleet may be dispersed and sunk, O Father how this echoing Cannon shot. Like sweet harmony digests my cates. Now boy thou hearest what thundering terror 'tis, To buckle for a kingdoms sovereignty, The earth with giddy trembling when it shakes, Or when the exhalations of the air, Breaks in extremity of lightning flash, Affrights not more than kings when they dispose, To show the rancour of their high swollen hearts, Retreat is sounded, one side hath the worse, O if it be the French, sweet fortune turn, And in thy turning change the forward winds, That with advantage of a favouring sky, Our men may vanquish and thither fly. My heart misgives, say mirror of pale death, To whom belongs the honour of this day, Relate I pray thee, if thy breath will serve, The sad discourse of this discomfiture.
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)
They hauing knowledge, brought them by the ſcouts, Did breake from Anchor ſtraight, and puft with rage, No otherwiſe then were their ſailes with winde, Made forth, as when the empty Eagle flies, To ſatifie his hungrie griping mawe. Thees for thy newes, returne vnto thy barke, And if thou ſcape the bloody ſtrooke of warre, And do ſuruiue the conflict, come againe, And let vs heare the manner of the fight, Meane ſpace my Lords, tis beſt we be diſperſt, To ſeuerall places leaſt they chaunce to land: Firſt you my Lord, with your Bohemian Troupes, Shall pitch your battailes on the lower hand, My eldeſt ſonne the Duke of Normandie, Togeither with this aide of Muſcouites, Shall clyme the higher ground an other waye: Heere in the middle coſt betwixt you both, Phillip my youngeſt boy and I will lodge, So Lords begon, and looke vnto your charge. You ſtand for Fraunce, an Empire faire and large, Now tell me Phillip, what is their concept, Touching the challenge that the Engliſh make. I ſay my Lord, clayme Edward what he can, And bring he nere ſo playne a pedegree, Tis you are in poſſeſſion of the Crowne, And thats the ſureſt poynt of all the Law: But were it not, yet ere he ſhould preuaile, Ile make a Conduit of my deareſt blood, Or chaſe thoſe ſtragling vpſtarts home againe, Well ſaid young Phillip, call for bread and Wine, That we may cheere our ſtomacks with repaſt, To looke our foes more ſternely in the face. Now is begun the heauie day at Sea, Fight Frenchmen, fight, be like the fielde of Beares, VVhen they defend their younglings in their Caues: Stir angry Nemeſis the happie helme, That with the ſulphur battels of your rage, The Engliſh Fleete may be diſperſt and ſunke, O Father how this eckoing Cannon ſhot. Like ſweete hermonie diſgeſts my cates. Now boy thou heareſt what thundring terror tis, To buckle for a kingdomes ſouerentie, The earth with giddie trembling when it ſhakes, Or when the exalations of the aire, Breakes in extremitie of lightning flaſh, Affrights not more then kings when they diſpoſe, To ſhew the rancor of their high ſwolne harts, Retreae is ſounded, one ſide hath the worſe, O if it be the French, ſweete fortune turne, And in thy turning change the forward winds, That with aduantage of a ſauoring skie, Our men may vanquiſh and thither flie. My hart miſgiues, ſay mirror of pale death, To whome belongs the honor of this day, Relate I pray thee, if thy breath will ſerue, The ſad diſcourſe of this diſcomfiture.