Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1599 (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea typicality 0.68 · 521 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Foolish Curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian Bear, and have their heads crushed like rotten Apples: you may as well say, that's a valiant Flea, that dare eat his breakfast on the Lip of a lion. Just, just: and the men do sympathise with the Mastiffs, in robustious and rough coming on, leaving their Wits with their Wives: and then give them great Meals of Beef, and Iron and Steel; they will eat like Wolves, and fight like Devils. I, but these English are shrewdly out of Beef. Then shall we find to morrow, they have only stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm: come, shall we about it? It is now two a Clock: but let me see, by ten We shall have each a hundred English men. Now entertain conjecture of a time, When creeping Murmur and the poring Darke Fills the wide Vessel of the Universe. From Camp to Camp, through the foul Womb of Night The Hum of either Army stilly sounds; That the fixed Sentinels almost receive The secret Whispers of each others Watch. Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames Each Battle sees the others vmbered face. Steed threatens Steed, in high and boastful Neighs Piercing the Night's dull Ear: and from the Tents, The Armourers accomplishing the Knights, With busy Hammers closing Rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation. The Country Cocks do crow, the Clocks do toll: And the third hour of drowsy Morning named, Proud of their Numbers, and secure in Soul, The confident and overlustie French, Do the low-rated English play at Dice; And chide the creeple-tardy-gated Night, Who like a foul and ugly Witch doth limp So tediously away. The poor condemned English, Like Sacrifices, by their watchful Fires Sat patiently, and inly ruminate The Morning's danger: and their gesture sad, Investing lanke-leane Cheeks, and Warre-worne Coats, Presented them unto the gazing Moon So many horrid Ghosts. O now, who will behold The Royal Captain of this ruined Band Walking from Watch to Watch, from Tent to Tent; Let him cry, Praise and Glory on his head: For forth he goes, and visits all his Host, Bids them good morrow with a modest Smile, And calls them Brothers, Friends, and Countrymen. Upon his Royal Face there is no note, How dread an Army hath enrounded him; Nor doth he dedicate one jot of Colour Unto the weary and all-watched Night: But freshly looks, and overbeares Attaint, With cheerful semblance, and sweet Majesty: That every Wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Looks. A Largesse universal, like the Sun, His liberal Eye doth give to every one, Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all Behold, as may unworthiness define. A little touch of Harry in the Night, And so our Scene must to the Battle fly: Where, O for pity, we shall much disgrace, With four or five most vile and ragged foils, (Right ill disposed, in brawl ridiculous) The Name of Agincourt: Yet sit and see, Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries be.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1312–1370 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 28 of 51 in this edition
Length
521 words · 727 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T10 — England and France: war, embassy and peacecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.680 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T8 · seed 44: T8 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Fooliſh Curres, that runne winking into the mouth of a Ruſſian Beare, and haue their heads cruſht like rotten Apples: you may as well ſay, that's a valiant Flea, that dare eate his breakefaſt on the Lippe of a Lyon. Iuſt, iuſt: and the men doe ſympathize with the Maſtiffes, in robuſtious and rough comming on, leauing their Wits with their Wiues: and then giue them great Meales of Beefe, and Iron and Steele; they will eate like Wolues, and fight like Deuils. I, but theſe Engliſh are ſhrowdly out of Beefe. Then ſhall we finde to morrow, they haue only ſtomackes to eate, and none to fight. Now is it time to arme: come, ſhall we about it? It is now two a Clock: but let me ſee, by ten Wee ſhall haue each a hundred Engliſh men. Now entertaine coniecture of a time, When creeping Murmure and the poring Darke Fills the wide Veſſell of the Vniuerſe. From Camp to Camp, through the foule Womb of Night The Humme of eyther Army ſtilly ſounds; That the fixt Centinels almoſt receiue The ſecret Whiſpers of each others Watch. Fire anſwers fire, and through their paly flames Each Battaile ſees the others vmber'd face. Steed threatens Steed, in high and boaſtfull Neighs Piercing the Nights dull Eare: and from the Tents, The Armourers accompliſhing the Knights, With buſie Hammers cloſing Riuets vp, Giue dreadfull note of preparation. The Countrey Cocks doe crow, the Clocks doe towle: And the third howre of drowſie Morning nam'd, Prowd of their Numbers, and ſecure in Soule, The confident and ouer-luſtie French, Doe the low-rated Engliſh play at Dice; And chide the creeple-tardy-gated Night, Who like a foule and ougly Witch doth limpe So tediouſly away. The poore condemned Engliſh, Like Sacrifices, by their watchfull Fires Sit patiently, and inly ruminate The Mornings danger: and their geſture ſad, Inueſting lanke-leane Cheekes, and Warre-worne Coats, Preſented them vnto the gazing Moone So many horride Ghoſts. O now, who will behold The Royall Captaine of this ruin'd Band Walking from Watch to Watch, from Tent to Tent; Let him cry, Prayſe and Glory on his head: For forth he goes, and viſits all his Hoaſt, Bids them good morrow with a modeſt Smyle, And calls them Brothers, Friends, and Countreymen. Vpon his Royall Face there is no note, How dread an Army hath enrounded him; Nor doth he dedicate one iot of Colour Vnto the wearie and all-watched Night: But freſhly lookes, and ouer-beares Attaint, With chearefull ſemblance, and ſweet Maieſtie: That euery Wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Lookes. A Largeſſe vniuerſall, like the Sunne, His liberall Eye doth giue to euery one, Thawing cold feare, that meane and gentle all Behold, as may vnworthineſſe define. A little touch of Harry in the Night, And ſo our Scene muſt to the Battaile flye: Where, O for pitty, we ſhall much diſgrace, With foure or fiue moſt vile and ragged foyles, (Right ill diſpos'd, in brawle ridiculous) The Name of Agincourt: Yet ſit and ſee, Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries bee.