Heywood, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [1592-1599] (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho typicality 0.81 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Why it is well, brothers and Citizens, Stick to your City as good men should do, Think that in Richard's time even such a rebel, Was then by Walworth the L. Maior of London, Stabbed dead in Smithfield: Then show yourselves as it be fits the time. And let this find a hundredth Walworth, now, Dare stab a rebel were he made of brass, And Prentices stick to your officers, For you may come to be as we are now, God and our King against an arrant rebel, Brothers away, let us defend our walls: My Lord your words are able to infuse, A double courage in a coward's breast, Then fear not us although our chins be bare, Our hearts are good, the trial shall be seen, Against these rebels on this champion green. We have no tricks nor policies of war, But by the ancient custom of our Fathers, we'll soundly lay it on, takte off that will. And London Prentices be ruled by me, Die ere ye lose fair London's liberty. How now my flatcaps, are you grown so brave? 'tis but your words, when matters come to propose You'll scud as 'twere a company of sheep, My counsel therefore is to keep your shops, What lack you, better will beseem your mouths, Than terms of war, in sooth you are too young: Sirrah go too, you shall not find it so, Flatcaps thou call'st us, we scorn not the name, And shortly by the virtue of our swords, we'll make your cap so sit unto your crown, As sconce and cap and all kiss the ground. You are those desperate idle swaggering mates, That haunt the suburbs in the time of peace, And raise up alehouse brawls in the street, And when the rumor of the war begins, You hide your heads, and are not to be found, Thou termest it better that we keep our shops, It's good indeed we should have such a care, But yet for all our keeping now and then, Your pilfering fingers break into our locks, Until at Tyburn you acquit the fault: Go to, albeit by custom we are mild, As those that do profess civility, Yet being moved, a nest of angry hornets Shall not be more offensive then we will, we'll fly about your ears and sting your hearts. He tells you truth my friends, and so forth. Who can endure to be so vrauce by boys? Nay scorn us not that we are Prentices, The Chronicles of England can report, What memorable actions we have done, To which this days achievement shall be knit, To make the volume larger than it is. Now of mine honour, ye do cheer my heart Brave English offsprings, valiantly resolved. My Lord return you back, let us alone, You are our Masters, give us leave to work, And if we do not vanquish them in fight, Let us go supperless to bed at night.
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)
Why it is well, brothers and Citizens, Sticke to your Citie as good men should do, Thinke that in Richards time euen such a rebell, Was then by Walworth the L. Maior of London, Stabd dead in Smithfield: Then shew your selues as it be fits the time. And let this find a hundreth Walworth, now, Dare stabbe a rebell were he made of brasse, And Prentises sticke to your officers, For you may come to be as we are now, God and our King against an arrant rebel, Brothers away, let vs defend our walles: My Lord your words are able to inuse, A double courage in a cowards breast, Then feare not vs although our chinnes be bare, Our hearts are good, the triall shall be séene, Against these rebels on this champion gréene. We haue no tricks nor pollices of warre, But by the ancient custome of our Fathers, Wéele soundly lay it on, takte off that will. And London Prentises be rulde by me, Die ere ye loose faire Londons libertie. How now my flatcaps, are you grown so braue? Tis but your words, whē matters come to proose Youle scudde as twere a companie of shéepe, My counsaile therefore is to kéepe your shops, What lack you, better will besem your mouths, Then termes of warre, in sooth you are too yong: Sirra go too, you shall not find it so, Flatcaps thou calst vs, wée scorne not the name, And shortly by the vertue of our swords, Wéele make your cap so sit vnto your crowne, As sconce and cap and all kisse the ground. You are those desperate idle swaggering mates, That haunt the suburbs in the time of peace, And raise vp a-house braules in the stréet, And when the rumor of the warre begins, You hide your heads, and are not to be found, Thou termest it better that we kéepe our shops, It's good indéed we should haue such a care, But yet for all our kéeping now and then, Your Pelfring fingers breake into our lockes, Vntill at Tyborne you acquite the fault: Go to, albeit by custome we are milde, As those that doe professe ciuilitie, Yet being moude, a nest of angrie hornets Shall not be more offensi then we will, Wéele flie about your eares and sting your hearts. He tels you truth my friends, and so foorth. Who can endure to be so vrauce by boyes? Nay scorne vs not that we are Prentises, The Chronicles of England can report, What memorable actions we haue done, To which this daies atchieuement shall be knit, To make the volume larger then it is. Now of mine honor, yée doe cheare my heart Braue English ofsprings, valiantly resolude. My Lord returne you backe, let vs alone, You are our Masters, giue vs leaue to worke, And if we do not banquish them in fight, Let vs go supperles to bed at night.