Udall, Nicholas · published 1562 · first performed or written 1537 [Oct 12-24] (Annals) comedy T13 Knights, squires and ladies typicality 0.72 · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
Is not this a worthy knight that with a snail dareth not fight Except he have his servants aid Is this the chaumpyon that maketh all men afraid I am a poor soldier come of late from Calais I trust or I go to debate some of his malice I will tarry my time tell I do see Betwixt him and the snail what the end will be Why ye whoreson knaves, regard ye not my calling why do ye not come and with you weapons bring why shall this monster so escape killing No that he shall not and god be willing I promise you, this is as worthy a knight as ever shall breed out of a bottle bite I think he be Dares of whom Uirgyll doth write That would not let entellus alone But ever provoked and ever called on But yet at the last he took a fall And so within a while, I trow I make the shall By God's passion knaves, if I come I will you fetter Regard ye my calling and crying no better why horesons I say, will ye not come By the mass the knaves be all from home They had better have fet me an etrande at Rome By my troth, I think that very scant This lubber dare adventure to fight with an ant Well seeing my servants come to me will not I must take heed that this monster me spill not I will ioparde with it a joint And other with my club or my sweardes' point I will reach it such wounds As I would not have for. xl. M. pounds Pluck in thy horns thou unhappy beast what facest thou me? wilt not thou be in rest Why? wilt not thou thy horns in hold Thinkest thou that I am a cocklode God's arms the monster cometh toward me still Except I fight manfully, it will me surely kill O Iupiter Lord dost thou not see and hear How he feareth the snail as it were a bear Well with my club I have had good-luck Now with my sword have at the a pluck I will make the or I go, for to duck And thou were as tale a man as friar suck I say yet again thy horns in draw Or else I will make the to have wounds raw Art not thou a feared To have thy beard Pared with my sword Ah well, now no more Thou mightest have done so before I laid at it so sore That it thought it should have be lore And it had not drawn in his horns again surely I would the monstet have slain But now farewell, I will work the no more pain Now my fume is paste And doth no longer last That I did to the monster cast Now in other countries both far and near more deeds of chyvaltye I will go inquire Thou needs not seek any further for ready I am here I will debate anon I trow thy bragging cheer
seed 43: T20 · seed 44: T17 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
¶ Is not thys a worthye knyghte that wyth a snayle dareth not fight Excepte he haue hys seruauntes ayde Is this the chaumpyon that maketh al mē afraid I am a pore souldiour come of late frō Calice I trust or I go to debate some of his malyce I wyll tarrye my tyme tell I do see Betwixt hym and the snayle what the ende wyll be ¶ Whye ye horeson knauys, regard ye not my callinge whye do ye not come and wyth you weapons brynge why shall this monster so escape kyllinge No that he shal not and god be wyllinge ¶ I promyse you, thys is as worthye a knyghte as euer shall brede oute of a bottell byte I thinke he be Dares of whom Uirgyll doth write That woulde not let entellus alone But euer prouoked and euer called on But yet at the last he tooke a fall And so within a whyle, I trowe I make the shall ¶ By Gods passion knaues, if I come I wyll you fetter Regarde ye my callinge and cryinge no better why horesons I saye, wyll ye not come By the masse the knaues be all from home They had better haue fette me an etrande at Rome ¶ By my trothe, I thynke that very skante This lubber dare aduenture to fighte with an ant Well seinge my seruauntes come to me will not I must take hede that this monster me spyll not I wyll ioparde with it a ioynte And other with my clubbe or my sweardes poynte I wyll reche it suche woundes As I woulde not haue for. xl. M. poundes Plucke in thy hornes thou vnhappy beast what facest thou me? wilte not thou be in reste Why? wylte not thou thy hornes in holde Thinkest thou that I am a cocklode Goddes armes the monster cometh towarde me styll Excepte I fyght manfully, it wyll me surely kyll O Iupiter Lorde doest thou not see and heare How he feareth the snayle as it were a bere Well with my clubbe I haue had good-lucke Nowe with my sworde haue at the a plucke I wyll make the or I go, for to ducke And thou were as tale a man as frier sucke I saye yet agayne thy hornes in drawe Or elles I wyll make the to haue woundes rawe Arte not thou a ferde To haue thy bearde Pared with my swearde Ah well, nowe no more Thou mightest haue done so before I layed at it so sore That it thoughte it shoulde haue be lore And it had not drawen in his hornes againe Surelye I woulde the monstet haue slaine But now farewell, I wyll worke the no more payne Nowe my fume is paste And dothe no longer laste That I did to the monster cast Now in other countreis both farre and neare Mo dedes of chyualtye I wyll go inquere Thou nedes not seke any further for redy I am here I wyll debate anone I trowe thy bragginge chere