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 0.74 · 504 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.
By this Day and this Light, the fellow has metal enough in his belly: Hold, there is twelvepences for you, and I pray you to serve God, and keep you out of prawles and prabbles, and quarrels and dissensions, and I warrant you it is the better for you. I will none of your Money. It is with a good will: I can tell you it will serve you to mend your shoes: come, wherefore should you be so pashfull, your shoes is not so good: 'tis a good shilling I warrant you, or I will change it. Now Herald, are the dead numbered? here is the number of the slaughtered French. What Prisoners of good sort are taken, Uncle? Charles Duke of Orleans, Nephew to the King, Iohn Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouchiquald: Of other Lords and Barons, Knights and Squires, Full fifteen hundred, besides common men. This Note doth tell me of ten thousand French That in the field lie slain: of Princes in this number, And Nobles bearing Banners, there lie dead One hundred twenty six: added to these, Of Knights, Esquires, and gallant Gentlemen, Eight thousand and four hundred: of the which, Five hundred were but yesterday dubbed Knights. So that in these ten thousand they have lost, There are but sixteen hundred Mercenaries: The rest are Princes, Barons, Lords, Knights, Squires, And Gentlemen of blood and quality. The Names of those their Nobles that lie dead: Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France, Iaques of Chatilion, Admiral of France, The Master of the Crossbows, Lord Rambures, Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dolphin, Iohn Duke of Alencon, Anthony Duke of Brabant, The Brother to the Duke of Burgundy, And Edward Duke of Barr: of lusty Earls, Grandpree and Roussie, Fauconbridge and Foyes, Beaumond and Marle, Vandemont and Lestrake. Here was a Royal fellowship of death. Where is the number of our English dead? Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam Esquire; None else of name: and of all other men, But five and twenty. O God, thy Arm was here: And not to us, but to thy Arm alone, Ascribe we all: when, without stratagem, But in plain shock, and even play of Battle, Was ever known so great and little loss? On one part and on th' other, take it God, For it is none but thine. 'Tis wonderful. Come, go me in procession to the Village: And be it death proclaimed through our Host, To boast of this, or take that praise from God, Which is his only. Is it not lawful and please your Majesty, to tell how many is killed? Yes Captain: but with this acknowledgement, That God fought for us. Yes, my conscience, he did us great good. Do we all holy Rights: Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum, The dead with charity enclosed in Clay: And then to Calais, and to England then, Where ne'er from France arrived more happy men.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1982–2039 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 43 of 51 in this edition
Length
504 words · 699 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T10 — England and France: war, embassy and peacecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.745 (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)
By this Day and this Light, the fellow ha's mettell enough in his belly: Hold, there is twelue-pence for you, and I pray you to ſerue God, and keepe you out of prawles and prabbles, and quarrels and diſſentions, and I warrant you it is the better for you. I will none of your Money. It is with a good will: I can tell you it will ſerue you to mend your ſhooes: come, wherefore ſhould you be ſo paſhfull, your ſhooes is not ſo good: 'tis a good ſilling I warrant you, or I will change it. Now Herauld, are the dead numbred? Heere is the number of the ſlaught'red French. What Priſoners of good ſort are taken, Vnckle? Charles Duke of Orleance, Nephew to the King, Iohn Duke of Burbon, and Lord Bouchiquald: Of other Lords and Barons, Knights and Squires, Full fifteene hundred, beſides common men. This Note doth tell me of ten thouſand French That in the field lye ſlaine: of Princes in this number, And Nobles bearing Banners, there lye dead One hundred twentie ſix: added to theſe, Of Knights, Eſquires, and gallant Gentlemen, Eight thouſand and foure hundred: of the which, Fiue hundred were but yeſterday dubb'd Knights. So that in theſe ten thouſand they haue loſt, There are but ſixteene hundred Mercenaries: The reſt are Princes, Barons, Lords, Knights, Squires, And Gentlemen of bloud and qualitie. The Names of thoſe their Nobles that lye dead: Charles Delabreth, High Conſtable of France, Iaques of Chatilion, Admirall of France, The Maſter of the Croſſe-bowes, Lord Rambures, Great Maſter of France, the braue Sir Guichard Dolphin, Iohn Duke of Alanſon, Anthonie Duke of Brabant, The Brother to the Duke of Burgundie, And Edward Duke of Barr: of luſtie Earles, Grandpree and Rouſſie, Fauconbridge and Foyes, Beaumont and Marle, Vandemont and Leſtrale. Here was a Royall fellowſhip of death. Where is the number of our Engliſh dead? Edward the Duke of Yorke, the Earle of Suffolke, Sir Richard Ketly, Dauy Gam Eſquire; None elſe of name: and of all other men, But fiue and twentie. O God, thy Arme was heere: And not to vs, but to thy Arme alone, Aſcribe we all: when, without ſtratagem, But in plaine ſhock, and euen play of Battaile, Was euer knowne ſo great and little loſſe? On one part and on th' other, take it God, For it is none but thine. 'Tis wonderfull. Come, goe me in proceſſion to the Village: And be it death proclaymed through our Hoaſt, To boaſt of this, or take that prayſe from God, Which is his onely. Is it not lawfull and pleaſe your Maieſtie, to tell how many is kill'd? Yes Captaine: but with this acknowledgement, That God fought for vs. Yes, my conſcience, he did vs great good. Doe we all holy Rights: Let there be ſung Non nobis, and Te Deum, The dead with charitie enclos'd in Clay: And then to Callice, and to England then, Where ne're from France arriu'd more happy men.