Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 513 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Nor near nor farther off my gracious Lo: Than this weak 〈…〉 And bids me speak of nothing but despair, One day too late I fear me noble Lo.▪ Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth: O call 〈…〉 And thou shalt have twelve thousand fight men, To day to day unhappy day too late, Overthrows thy joys friends, fortune and thy state▪ For all the Welshmen hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bullingbrooke dispersed and fled. Comfort my liege, why looks your grace so pale. But now the blood of 20000. men, Did triumph in my face, and they are fled: And till so much blood thither come again, Have I not reason to look pale and dead? All souls that will be safe, fly from my side, For time hath set a blot upon my pride. Comfort my liege remember who you are. I had forgot my self, am I not King? Awake thou coward Majesty thou sleepest. Is not the King's name twenty thousand names? Arm arm, my name a puny subiect-strikes, At thy great glory, look not to the ground, Ye favourites of a King, are we not high? High be our thoughts, I know my Uncle York, Hath power enough to serve our turn: but who comes here? More health and happiness betide my liege, Then can my care tuned tongue deliver him. Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared, The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold, Say, is my kingdom lost? why ttwas my care, And what! loss is it to be rid of care? Strives Bullingbrooke to be as great as we, Greater he shall not be, if he serve God, we'll serve him to, and be his fellow so: Revolt our subjects, that we cannot mend, They break their faith to God as well as us: Cry woe, destruction, ruin, and decay, The worst is death, and death will have his day, Glad am I, that your highness is so armed, To bear the tidings of calamity, Like an unseasonable stormy day, Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, As if the world were all dissolved to tears: So high above his limits swells the rage Of Bullingbrooke covering your fearful land, With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel, White beards have armed their thin and haireles scalps Against thy majesty: boys with women's voices, Strive to speak big and clap their female joints, In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown, Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows, Of double fatal ewe against thy state. Yea distaff women manage rusty bills Against thy seat, both young and old rebel, And all goes worse than I have power to tell. Too well too well thou tellest a tale so ill, Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? What is become of Bushie? where is Green? That they have let the dangerous enemy▪ Measure our confines with such peaceful steps▪ If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it: I warrant they have made peace with Bulling.
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)
Nor arther off my gratious Lo: Than this weake And bids me speake o nothing but Despaie, One day too late I feare me noble Lo▪ Hath clouded all thy happy daies on O call And thou shalt haue twelue thousand fighting men, To day to day vnhappie daie too late, Ouerthrowes thy ioies friends, fortune and thy state▪ For all the Welshmen hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bullingbrooke disperst and sled. Comfort my lieg, why loos your grace so pale. But now the bloud of 20000. men, Did triumph in my face, and they are fled: And till so much bloud thither come againe, Haue I not reason to looke pale and dead? All soules that wil be safe, side, For time hath set a blot vpon my ride. Comfort my liege remember who you are. I had forgot my sele, am I not King? Awake thou coward Maiesty thou sleepest. Is not the Kings name twenty thousand names? Arme arme, my name a pny subiect-strikes, At thy great glorie, looke not to the ground, Ye fauourites of a King, are we not high? High be our thoughts, I know my Vnckle Yorke, Hath power eough to serue our turne: but who comes here? More health and happines betide my lieg, Then can my care tunde tongue deliuer him. Mine eare is open, and my hart prepard, The worst is worldly losse thou canst vnfold, Say, is my kingdome lost? why twas my care, And what! losse is it to be rid of care? Striues Bullingbrooke to be as great as we, Greater he shall not be, if he serue God, Weele serue him to, and be his fellow so: Reuolt our subiects, that we cannot mende, They breake their faith to God as well as vs: Crie woe, destruction, ruine, and decay, The worst is death, and death will haue his day, Glad am I, that your highnes is so armde, To beare the tidings of calamity, Like an vnseasonable stormie day, Which makes the siluer riuers drowne their shores, As if the world were all dissolude to teares: So high aboue his limits swels the rage Of Bullingbrooke couering your fearefull land, With hard bright steele, and harts harder then steele, White beards haue armd their thin and haireles scalpes Against thy maiesty: boies with womens voices, Striue to speake big and clap their ioints, In stiffe vnweildy armes against thy crowne, Thy very beadsmen learne to bend their bowes, Of double fatall ewe against thy state. Yea distffe women mannage rustie bils Against thy seate, both young and old rebell, And all goes worse then I haue power to tell. Too well too well thou telst a tale so ill, Where is the Earle of Wiltsire? where is Bagot? What is become of Bushie? where is Greene? That they haue let the dangerous enemy▪ Measure our confines with such peacefull steps▪ If we preuaile, their heads shall pay for it: I warrant they haue made peace with Bulling.