Shakespeare, William · published 1598 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1596-1597] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
If he fall in, good-night, or sink, or swim, Send danger from the East unto the West. So honour cross it, from the North to South, And let them grapple: O the blood more stirs To rou'e a lion than to start a hare. Imagination of some great exploit Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. By heaven me thinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the palefaced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks, So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Without corrival all her dignities, But out upon this half faced fellowship. He apprehends a world of figures here, But not the form of what he should attend, Good cousin give me audience for a while. I cry you mercy. Those same noble Scots that are your prisoners I'll keep them all; By God he shall not have a Scot of them, No, if a Scot would save his soul he shall not. I'll keep them by this hand. You start away, And lend no care unto my purposes: Those prisoners you shall keep. Nay I will: that's flat: He said he would not ransom Mortimer, Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer, But I will find him when he lies asleep, And in his care i'll hollow Mortimer: Nay, i'll have a starling shallbe taught to speak Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him To keep his anger still in motion. Hear you cozen a word. All studies here I solemnly defy, Save how to gall and pinch this Bullenbrooke, And that same sword and buckler Prince of Wales, But that I think his father loves him not, And would be glad he met with some mischance: I would have him poisoned with a pot of ale. Farewell kinsman, i'll talk to you When you are better tempered to attend. Why what a waspe-stung and impatient fool Art thou? to break into this woman's mood, Tying thine care to no tongue but thine own? Why look you, I am whipped and scourged with rods, Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear Of this vile politician Bullingbrooke, In Richard's time, what do you call the place? A plague upon it, it is in Glocestershire; TTwas where the madcap duke his uncle kept His uncle York, where I first bowed my knee Unto this king of smiles, this Bullenbrooke: 'Zblood, when you and he came back from Ravenspurgh. At Barkly castle. You say true. Why what a candy deal of courtesy, This fawning greyhound than did proffer me, Look when his infant fortune came to age, And gentle Harry Percy, and kind cousin: O the devil take such coosoners, god forgive me, Good uncle tell your tale, I have done. Nay, if you have not, to it again, We will stay your leisure. I have done I'faith.
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)
If he fall in, god-night, or sinke, or swim, Send danger from the East vnto the West. So honor crosse it, from the North to South, And let them grapple: O the bloud more stirs To rou'e a lyon than to start a hare. Imagination of some great exploit Driues him beyond the bounds of patience. By heauen me thinkes it were an easie leape, To plucke bright honour from the palefac'd moone, Or diue into the bottome of the deepe, Where fadome line cou'd neuer touch the ground, And plucke vp drowned honour by the locks, So he that doth redeeme her thence might weare Without coriuall al her dignities, But out vpon this halfe fac't fellowship. He apprehends a world of figures here, But not the forme of what he should attend, Good coosen giue me audience for a while. I crie you mercie. Those same noble Scots that are your prisoners Ile keepe them all; By God he shall not haue a Scot of them, No, if a Scot would saue his soule he shall not. Ile keepe them by this hand. You start away, And lend no care vnto my purposes: Those prisoners you shall keepe. Nay I will: thats flat: He said he would not ransome Mortimer, Forbad my tongue to speake of Mortimer, But I will find him when he lies asleepe, And in his care ile hollow Mortimer: Nay, ile haue a starling shalbe taught to speake Nothing but Mortimer, and giue it him To keepe his anger still in motion. Heare you cosen a word. All studies here I solemnly defie, Saue how to gall and pinch this Bullenbrooke, And that same sword and buckler Prince of Wales, But that I thinke his father loues him not, And would be glad he met with some mischance: I would haue him poisoned with a pot of ale. Farewel kinsman, ile talke to you When you are better temperd to attend. Why what a waspe-stung and impatient foole Art thou? to breake into this womans moode, Tying thine care to no toung but thine owne? Why looke you, I am whipt and scourg'd with rods, Netled, and stung with pismires, when I heare Of this vile polititian Bullingbrooke, In Richards time, what do you call the place? A plague vpon it, it is in Glocestershire; Twas where the mad-cap duke his vncle kept His vncle Yorke, where I first bowed my knee Vnto this king of smiles, this Bullenbrooke: Zbloud, when you and he came backe from Rauenspurgh. At Barkly castle. You say true. Why what a candy deale of curtesie, This fawning greyhound then did profer me, Looke when his infant fortune came to age, And gentle Harry Percy, and kind coosen: O the diuill take such coosoners, god forgiue me, Good vncle tell your tale, I haue done. Nay, if you haue not, to it againe, We wil stay your leisure. I haue done Ifaith.