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 0.74 · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
That he can find, let that lie in the bargain. Hear'st thou General, there's hot drinking at the mouth of Bishopsgate, for our soldiers are all Mouth, they lie like Rascals with their brains beaten out, therefore since we are all like to feed hogs in Houndsditch, let us retire our troops, and save our maimed men, or if we issue further, we are put to the sword every mother's son of us. Art thou that villain in whose damned mouth, Was never heard of any word but wounds? Whose recreant limbs are notched with gaping scars, Thicker than any carking craftman's score, Whose very scalp is scratched and crazed and broken, Like an old mazzer beaten on the stones, And standest thou now to save our maimed men? A plague upon thee coward. Why how now base Thomas? 'swounds, wert thou a base Vial, thou art but a rascal and a rebel as I am, hearest thou, if I do not turn true subject and leave thee, let me be worried with dogs, 'swounds dost thou impeach my manhood? Tom Nevill thou hadst as good to have damned thyself as uttered such a word, flatly I forsake thee, and all that love Ned Spicing follow me. Come come ye testy soul, thou seest me grieved, Yet canst not bear with mine infirmity, Thou knowest I hold thee for as tall a man As any lives or breathes our English air, I know there lives not a more fiery spirit, A more resolved dalliant, a plague upon it, Thou knowest I love thee, yet if a word escape y lips in anger, how teastie then thou art? I had rather all men left me then thyself, Thou art my soul, thou art my Genius: I cannot live without thee not an hour, Thus must I still be forced against my will, To soothe this dirty slave, this cowardly rascal. Come, come be friends, ye tasty firebrand, We must retire there is no remedy. Nay Tom, if thou wilt have me mount on the walls, And cast myself down headlong on their pikes, He do it, but to impeach my valour, Had any man but thou spoke half so much, I would have spilled his heart, still be ware My valour, such words go hardly down, Well, I am friends, thou thoughtest not as thou spak'st. No on my soul, thou thinkest not that I did, Sound a retreat there I command ye straight, But whither shall we retire To Mile-end Green, there's no fitter place. Then let us back retire to Mile-end Green, And there expect fresh succour from our friends, With such supply as shall ere long assure The city is our own, march on, away. Ye have bestead ye like good Citizens, And she wne yourselves true subjects to your king, You worthily prentice bestirred yourselves, That it did there my heart to see your valour, The rebels are retired to Mileend Green,
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)
That he can find, let that lie in the bargaine. Hear'st thou Generall, theres hote drinking at the mouth of Bishopsgate, for our soldiours are all Mouth, they lie like Rascals with their brains beaten out, therefore since we are all like to féed hgs in Houndsditch, let vs retire our troupes, and saue our maimed men, or if we issue further, we are put to the sword euery mothers sonne of vs. Art thou that villaine in whose damned mouth, Was neuer heard of any word but wounds? Whose rrcant limbes are nocht with gaping scarres, Thicker then any carking craft-mans score, Whose very skalpe is scracht and crasde and broken, Like an old mazzer beaten on the stones, And standest thou now to saue our maimed men? A plague vpon thee coward. Why how now base Thomas? Swounds, wert thou a base Viall, thou art but a rascall and a rebell as I am, hearest thou, if I do not turne true Sued and leaue thee, let me be wooried with dogs, Swounds dost thou impeach my manhood? Tom Neuill thou hadst as good to haue nnde thy selfe as vttered such a word, flatly I forsake thee, and all that loue Ned Spicing follow me. Come come yee testic sle, thou séest me gréende, Yet canst not beare with mine infirmitie, Thou knowest I hold thee for as tall a man As any lines or breathes our English aye, I know there liues not a more fierie spirit, A more resolued daliant, a plague vpon it, Thou knowest I loue thée, yet if a word escape y lips in anger, how teastie then thou art? I had rather all men left me then thy selfe, Thou art my soule, thou art my Genius: I cannot liue without thee not an hower, Thus must I still be forc'd against my will, To sooth this durtic slaue, this cowardly rascall. Come, come be friends, ye teastie firebrand, We must retire there is no remedie. Nay Tom, if thou wilt haue me mount on the walles, And cast my selfe downe headlong on their pikes, He doe it, but to impeach my valour, Had any man but thou spoke halfe so much, I would haue spt his heart, still be ware My valour, such words go hardly downe, Well, I am friends, thou thoughtest not as thou spakest. No on my soule, thou thinkest not that I did, Sound a retreat there I commaund ye strait, But whither shall wée retire To Mileend Greene, theres no fitter place. Then let vs backe retire to Milnd Greene, And there expect fresh succour from our friends, With such supply as shall ere long assure The Citic is our owne, march on, away. Ye haue bestd yée like good Cittizens, And she wne your selues true subiects to your king, You worthily pentise bestirde your selues, That it did thre my heart to sée your valour, The rebels are retirde to Meerd Greene,