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 · 473 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.
Here comes the Herald of the French, my Liege His eyes are humbler than they used to be. How now, what means this Herald? Know'st thou not, That I have fined these bones of mine for ransom? Comest thou again for ransom? No great King: I come to thee for charitable Licence, That we may wander over this bloody field, To book our dead, and then to bury them, To sort our Nobles from our common men. For many of our Princes (woe the while) Lie drowned and soaked in mercenary blood: So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs In blood of Princes, and with wounded steeds Fret fet-locke deep in gore, and with wild rage Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, Killing them twice, O give us leave great King, To view the field in safety, and dispose Of their dead bodies. I tell thee truly Herald, I know not if the day be ours or no, For yet a many of your horsemen peer, And gallop over the field. The day is yours. Praised be God, and not our strength for it: What is this Castle called that stands hard by. They call it Agincourt. Then call we this the field of Agincourt, Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus. Your Grandfather of famous memory (an't please your Majesty) and your great Uncle Edward the Placke Prince of Wales, as I have read in the Chronicles, fought a most brave battle here in France. They did Fluellen. Your Majesty says very true: If your Majesty's is remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in a Garden where Leeks did grow, wearing Leeks in their Monmouth caps, which your Majesty know to this hour is an honourable badge of the service: And I do believe your Majesty takes no scorn to wear the Leek upon S. Tavies day. I wear it for a memorable honour: For I am Welsh you know good Countryman. All the water in Wye, cannot wash your Majesty's Welsh blood out of your body, I can tell you that: God pless it, and preserve it; as long as it pleases his Grace, and his Majesty too. Thanks good my Countrymen. By leshu, I am your Majesty's Countryman, I care not who know it: I will confess it to all the Orld, I need not to be ashamed of your Majesty, praised be God so long as your Majesty is an honest man. Good keep me so. Our Heralds go with him, Bring me just notice of the numbers dead On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither. Soldier, you must come to the King. Soldier, why wear'st thou that Glove in thy Cap? an't please your Majesty, 'tis the gage of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive. An Englishman?
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1874–1918 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 40 of 51 in this edition
Length
473 words · 616 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T10 — England and France: war, embassy and peacecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.685 (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)
Here comes the Herald of the French, my Liege His eyes are humbler then they vs'd to be. How now, what meanes this Herald? Knowſt thou not, That I haue fin'd theſe bones of mine for ranſome? Com'ſt thou againe for ranſome? No great King: I come to thee for charitable Licenſe, That we may wander ore this bloody field, To booke our dead, and then to bury them, To ſort our Nobles from our common men. For many of our Princes (woe the while) Lye drown'd and ſoak'd in mercenary blood: So do our vulgar drench their peaſant limbes In blood of Princes, and with wounded ſteeds Fret fet-locke deepe in gore, and with wilde rage Yerke out their armed heeles at their dead maſters, Killing them twice, O giue vs leaue great King, To view the field in ſafety, and diſpoſe Of their dead bodies. I tell thee truly Herald, I know not if the day be ours or no, For yet a many of your horſemen peere, And gallop ore the field. The day is yours. Praiſed be God, and not our ſtrength for it: What is this Caſtle call'd that ſtands hard by. They call it Agincourt. Then call we this the field of Agincourt, Fought on the day of Criſpin Criſpianus. Your Grandfather of famous memory (an't pleaſe your Maieſty) and your great Vncle Edward the Placke Prince of Wales, as I haue read in the Chronicles, fought a moſt praue pattle here in France. They did Fluellen. Your Maieſty ſayes very true: If your Maieſties is remembred of it, the Welchmen did good ſeruice in a Garden where Leekes did grow, wearing Leekes in their Monmouth caps, which your Maieſty know to this houre is an honourable badge of the ſeruice: And I do beleeue your Maieſty takes no ſcorne to weare the Leeke vppon S. Taues day. I weare it for a memorable honor: For I am Welch you know good Countriman. All the water in Wye, cannot waſh your Maieſties Welſh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that: God pleſſe it, and preſerue it; as long as it pleaſes his Grace, and his Maieſty too. Thankes good my Countrymen. By leſhu, I am your Maieſties Countreyman, I care not who know it: I will confeſſe it to all the Orld, I need not to be aſhamed of your Maieſty, praiſed be God ſo long as your Maieſty is an honeſt man. Good keepe me ſo. Our Heralds go with him, Bring me iuſt notice of the numbers dead On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither. Souldier, you muſt come to the King. Souldier, why wear'ſt thou that Gloue in thy Cappe? And't pleaſe your Maieſty, tis the gage of one that I ſhould fight withall, if he be aliue. An Engliſhman?