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 · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Not go sweet heart? that were a coward's trick, A traitor's part to shrink when others fight, Envy shall never say that Mathew Shore The Goldsmith stayed, when other men went out, To meet his Kings and country's enemy, No Iane 'gainst all the rebels on Mile-end, I dare alone K. Edward's right defend. If you be slain, what shall become of me? Kite well my wench, I now will marry thee, I leave thee worth at least five thousand pound. Marry again. that word my heart doth wound, I'll never marry, nor I will not live, If thou be killed, let me go with thee Mat. 'tis idle talk good Iane, no more of that, Go to my Lady Majoress and the rest, As you are still companion with the best, With them be merry, and pray for our good speed, To part from thee my very heart doth bleed. Yet stand we in the sight of upreared Troy, And suck the air she draws: our every breath Flies from our nostrils warm unto the walls, We beard her bristling spires, her battled towers, And proudly stand and gaze her in the face, Look on me, and I doubt not ye imagine, My worth as great as any one of yours, My fortunes, would I basely fawn on Edward, To be as fair as any man's in England, But he that keeps your sovereign in the Tower, Hath seized my land, and robbed me of my right: I am a Gentleman as well as he, What he hath got, he holds by tyranny, Now if you faint, or cowardly should fly, There is no hope for any one to live, We hear the Londoners will leave the City, And bid us battle here on Mile-end Green, Whom if we vanquish, than we take the town, And ride in triumph thorough Cheap to Paul's, The Mint is ours, Cheap, Lombard street our own The meanest soldier wealthier than a king. March fair ye rogues, all kings or capknitters: dost thou hear Tom Falconbridge? I pray thee grant me one boon I shall ask thee. What is it Ned: it's hard I should deny thee. Why that when we have won the Cry, as we cannot choose but win it, that I may have the knighting of all these rogues and rascals. What then? What then? Zounds I scorn your scurvy way mouthed, what then? now a poor take me it I fight a blow. Why this is fine, go to, knight whom thou wilt: Who, I knight any of them? I'll see them hanged first for a company of tattered ragged rascals, if I were a king, I would not knight one of them? What not me Cavalero Chubb? Yes, I care not if I knight thee: and yet i'll see thee hanged ere i'll honour thee so much: I care not so much for the matter, but I would not be denied my humour. Why what a perverse fellow art thou Ned?
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)
Not go swéet heart? that were a cowards trick, A traitors part to shrinke when others fight, Enuie shall neuer say that Mathew Shoare The Goldsmith aid, when other men went out, To meete his Kings and countries enemie, No Iane gainst all the rebels on Mileend, I dare alone K. Edwards right defend. If you be slaine, what shall become of mée? Kight well my wch, nowe wil marrie thée, I leaue thee worth at least fiue thousand pound. Marrie again. that word my heart doth wound, Ile neuer marrie, nor I will not liue, If thou be kild, let me go with thée Mat. is idle talke good Iane, no more of that, Go to my Ladie Maioresse and the rest, As you are still companion with the best, With them be merrie, and pray for our good speed, To part from thee my very heart doth bléed. Yet stand we in the sight of vcard Troy, And sucke the ayre she drawes: our erie breath Flies from our nostrils warme vnto the walles, We beard her bristling spires, her battled towres, And proudly stand and ge her in the sace, Looke on me, and I doubt not ye imagine, My worth as great as any one of yours, My fortunes, would I basely fawne on Edward, To be as faire as anie mans in England, But he that kéepes your soueraigne in the Towre, Hath seade my land, and robd me of my right: I am a Gentleman as well as hee, What he hath got, he bolds by tyrannie, Now if you faint, or cowardly should flie, There is no hope for anie one to liue, We heare the Londoners will leaue the Citie, And bid vs battaile here on ilcend Greene, Whom if we vanquish, then we take the towne, And ride in triumph thorow Cheape to Paules, The Mint is ours, Cheap, Lumbard stréet our owne The meanest souldier wealthier then a king. March faire ye rogues, all kings or capknitters: dost thou heare Tom Falconbridge? I pre thee grant me one boone I shall aske thee. What is it Ned: its hard I should denie thee. Why that when we haue woune the Crie, as we cannot chuse but winne it, that I may haue the knighting of all these rogues and rascalles. What then? What then? Zonnds I scorne your scuruie way mouthed, what then? now a pore take me it I fight a blow. Why this is fine, go to, knight whom thou wilt: Who, I knight any of them? Ile sée them hangde first for a companie of tattred ragged rascailes, if I were a king, I would not knight one of them? What not mee Caualero Chub? Yes, I care not if I knight thee: and yet ile see thee hangd ere ile honour thee so much: I care not so much for the matter, but I would not be denide my humour. Why what a peruerse fellow art thou Ned?