Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1592 [1591-1592] (Annals) tragedy; history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
The weary Sun, hath made a Golden set, And by the bright Tract of his fiery Car, Gives token of a goodly day to morrow. Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my Standard: Give me some Ink and Paper in my Tent: I'll draw the Form and Model of our Battle, Limit each Leader to his several Charge, And part in just proportion our small Power. My Lord of Oxford, you Sir William Brandon, And your Sir Walter Herbert stay with me: The Earl of Pembroke keeps his Regiment; Good Captain Blunt, bear my goodnight to him. And by the second hour in the Morning, Desire the Earl to see me in my Tent: Yet one thing more (good Captain) do for me: Where is Lord Stanley quartered, do you know? Unless I have mista'en his Colours much, (Which well I am assured I have not done) His Regiment lies halfe a Mile at least South, from the mighty Power of the King. If without peril it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him And give him from me, this most needful Note. Upon my life, my Lord, I'll undertake it, And so God give you quiet rest to night. Good night good Captain Blunt: Come Gentlemen, Let us consult upon to morrow's Business; Into my Tent, the Dew is raw and cold. What is't a Clock? It's Supper time my Lord, it's nine a clock. I will not sup to night, Give me some Ink and Paper: What, is my Beaver easier than it was? And all my Armour laid into my Tent? It is my Liege: and all things are in readiness. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge, Use careful Watch, choose trusty Sentinels, I go my Lord. Stir with the Lark to morrow, gentle Norfolk. I warrant you my Lord. Ratcliff. My Lord. Send out a Pursuivant at Arms To Stanleys' Regiment: bid him bring his power Before Sunrising, lest his Son George fall Into the blind Cave of eternal night. Fill me a Bowl of Wine: Give me a Watch, Saddle white Surrey for the Field to morrow: Look that my staves be sound, & not too heavy. My Lord. Saw'st the melancholy Lord Northumberland? Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself, Much about Cockshut time, from Troop to Troop Went through the Army, cheering up the Soldiers. So, I am satisfied: Give me a Bowl of Wine, I have not that Alacrity of Spirit, Nor cheer of Mind that I was wont to have. Set it down. Is Ink and Paper ready? It is my Lord. Bid my Guard watch. Leave me. Ratcliffe, about the mid of night come to my Tent And help to arm me. Leave me I say. Fortune, and Victory sit on thy Helm. All comfort that the dark night can afford, Be to thy Person, Noble Father in Law. Tell me, how fares our Noble Mother?
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)
The weary Sunne, hath made a Golden ſet, And by the bright Tract of his fiery Carre, Giues token of a goodly day to morrow. Sir William Brandon, you ſhall beare my Standard: Giue me ſome Inke and Paper in my Tent: Ile draw the Forme and Modell of our Battaile, Limit each Leader to his ſeuerall Charge, And part in iuſt proportion our ſmall Power. My Lord of Oxford, you Sir William Brandon, And your Sir Walter Herbert ſtay with me: The Earle of Pembroke keepes his Regiment; Good Captaine Blunt, beare my goodnight to him. And by the ſecond houre in the Morning, Deſire the Earle to ſee me in my Tent: Yet one thing more (good Captaine) do for me: Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know? Vnleſſe I haue miſtane his Colours much, (Which well I am aſſur'd I haue not done) His Regiment lies halfe a Mile at leaſt South, from the mighty Power of the King. If without perill it be poſſible, Sweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him And giue him from me, this moſt needfull Note. Vpon my life, my Lord, Ile vndertake it, And ſo God giue you quiet reſt to night. Good night good Captaine Blunt: Come Gentlemen, Let vs conſult vpon to morrowes Buſineſſe; Into my Tent, the Dew is rawe and cold. What is't a Clocke? It's Supper time my Lord, it's nine a clocke. I will not ſup to night, Giue me ſome Inke and Paper: What, is my Beauer eaſier then it was? And all my Armour laid into my Tent? It is my Liege: and all things are in readineſſe. Good Norfolke, hye thee to thy charge, Vſe carefull Watch, chooſe truſty Centinels, I go my Lord. Sir with the Larke to morrow, gentle Norfolk. I warrant you my Lord. Ratcliffe. My Lord. Send out a Purſuiuant at Armes To Stanleys Regiment: bid him bring his power Before Sun-riſing, leaſt his Sonne George fall Into the blinde Caue of eternall night. Fill me a Bowle of Wine: Giue me a Watch, Saddle white Surrey for the Field to morrow: Look that my Staues be ſound, & not too heauy. My Lord. Saw'ſt the melancholly Lord Northumberland? Thomas the Earle of Surrey, and himſelfe, Much about Cockſhut time, from Troope to Troope Went through the Army, chearing vp the Souldiers. So, I am ſatisfied: Giue me a Bowle of Wine, I haue not that Alacrity of Spirit, Nor cheere of Minde that I was wont to haue. Set it downe. Is Inke and Paper ready? It is my Lord. Bid my Guard watch. Leaue me. Ratcliffe, about the mid of night come to my Tent And helpe to arme me. Leaue me I ſay. Fortune, and Victory ſit on thy Helme. All comfort that the darke night can affoord, Be to thy Perſon, Noble Father in Law. Tell me, how fares our Noble Mother?