Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho typicality 0.80 · 489 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Here my Lord. Fly to the Duke, post thou to Salisbury, When thou comest there, dull unmindful villain, Why stand'st thou still? and goest not to the Duke. First mighty Sovereign, let me know your mind, What, from your grace, I shall deliver them. O, true good Catesby, bid him levy strait, The greatest strength and power he can make, And meet me presently at Salisbury. What is it your highness pleasure, I shall do at Salisbury, Why? what wouldst thou do there before I go? Your highness told me I should post before. My mind is changed sir, my mind is changed. How now, what news with you? None good my Lord, to please you with the hearing, Nor none so bad, but it may well be told. Hoiday, a riddle, neither good, nor bad: Why dost thou run so many mile about, When thou mayst tell thy tale a nearer way. Once more, what news? Richmond is on the Seas. There let him sink, and be the season him, White livered runagate, what doth he there? I know not mighty Sovereign, but by guess. Well sir, as you guess, as you guess. Stirred up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Elie, He makes for England, there to claim the crown. Is the chair empty? is the sword vnswaied? Is the king dead? the Empire unpossessed? What heir of York is there alive but we? And who is England's King, but great York's heir,? Then tell me, what doth he upon the sea? Unless for that my liege, I cannot guess. Unless for that, he comes to be your liege, You cannot guess, wherefore the Welshman comes, Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him I fear. No mighty liege, therefore mistrust me not. Where is thy power then? to beat him back, Where are thy tenants? and thy followers? Are they not now upon the Western shore? Safe conducting, the rebels from their ships. No my good Lord, my friends are in the North. Cold friends to Richard, what do they in the North? When they should serve, their Sovereign in the West. They have not been commanded, mighty sovereign. Please it your Majesty to give me leave, I'll muster up my friends and meet your grace▪ Where, and what time, your Majesty shall please. I, I, thou wouldst be gone, to join with Richmond, I will not trust you Sir. Most mighty Sovereign, You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful, I never was, nor never will be false. Well, go muster men, but hear you, leave behind, Your son George Stanley, look your faith be firm, Or else, his heads assurance is but frail. So deal with him, as I prove true to you. My gracious Sovereign, now in Devonshire, As I by friends am well advertised, Sir William Courtney, and the haughty Prelate, Bishop of Exceter, his brother there, With many more confederates, are in arms.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 2849–2910 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 46 of 54 in this edition
Length
489 words · 660 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T18 — Rebels, barons and the king's wars at homecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.801 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T22 · seed 44: T13 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Here my Lord. Flie to the Duke, post thou to Salisburie, When thou comst there, dull vnmindfull villaine, Whie standst thou still? and goest not to the Duke. First mightie Soueraigne, let me know your minde, What, from your grace, I shall deliuer them. O, true good Catesbie, bid him leuie straight, The greatest strength and power he can make, And meete me presentlie at Salisburie. What is it your highnes pleasure, I shall do at Salisbury, Whie? what wouldst thou doe there before I goe? Your highnes told me I should post before. My mind is changd sir, my minde is changd. How now, what newes with you? None good my Lord, to please you with the hearing, Nor none so bad, but it may well be told. Hoiday, a riddle, neither good, nor bad: Why doest thou runne so many mile about, When thou maist tell thy tale a neerer way. Once more, what newes? Richmond is on the Seas. There let him sinke, and be the season him, White liuerd runnagate, what doeth he there? I know not mightie Soueraigne, but by guesse. Well sir, as you guesse, as you guesse. Sturd vp by Dorset, Buckingham, and Elie, He makes for England, there to claime the crowne. Is the chaire emptie? is the sword vnswaied? Is the king dead? the Empire vnpossest? What heire of Yorke is there aliue but we? And who is Englands King, but great Yorkes heire,? Then tell me, what doeth he vpon the sea? Vnlesse for that my liege, I cannot guesse. Vnlesse for that, he comes to be your liege, You cannot guesse, wherefore the Welshman comes, Thou wilt reuolt, and flie to him I feare. No mightie liege, therefore mistrust me not. Where is thy power then? to beate him backe, Where are thy tennants? and thy followers? Are they not now vpon the Westerne shore? Safe conducting, the rebels from their ships. No my good Lord, my friendes are in the North. Cold friends to Richard, what doe they in the North? When they should serue, their Soueraigne in the West. They haue not bin commaunded, mightie soueraigne. Please it your Maiestie to giue me leaue, Ile muster vp my friendes and meete your grace▪ Where, and what time, your Maiestie shall please. I, I, thou wouldest be gone, to ioyne with Richmond, I will not trust you Sir. Most mightie Soueraigne, You haue no cause to hold my friendship doubtfull, I neuer was, nor neuer will be false. Well, go muster men, but heare you, leaue behinde, Your sonne George Stanlie, looke your faith be firme, Or else, his heads assurance is but fraile. So deale with him, as I proue true to you. My gracious Soueraigne, now in Deuonshire, As I by friendes am well aduertised, Sir William Courtney, and the haughtie Prelate, Bishop of Excer, his brother there, With manie mo confederates, are in armes.