Norton, Thomas / Sackville, Thomas · published 1565 · first performed or written 1562 [Jan 18] (Annals) tragedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Of pardon sweet (the multitude mislead By traitorous fraud of their ungracious heads) One sort that saw the dangerous success Of stubborn standing in rebellious war And knew the difference of PRINCE's power From headless number of tumultuous routs, Whom comen countries care and private fear Taught to repent the terror of their rage Laid hands upon the Captains of their band, And brought them bound unto the mighty Dukes another sort not trusting yet so well The truth of Pardon or mistrusting more Their own offence than that they could conceive Such hope of pardon for so foul misdeed: Or for that they their Captains could not yield Who fearing to be yielded, flayed before, Stale home by silence of the secret night, The third unhappy and unraged sort Of desperate hearts, who stained in PRINCE's blood From traitorous furor could not be withdrawn By love, by law, by grace, ne yet by fear, By proffered life, ne yet by threatened Death, With minds hopeless of lief, dreadless of Death, Careless of Country, and aweless of God: Stood bent to fight as Furies did them move With violent death to close their traitorous life: These all by power of Horsemen were oppressed And with revenging sword slain in the field, Or with the strangling Cord hanged on the trees Where yet the carrion Carcases do proche The fruits that Rebels reap of their uproars, And of the murder of their sacred Prince, But lo, where do approach the noble Dukes, By whom these tumults have been thus appeased. I think the world will now at length beware And fear to put on arms against their Prince. If not: those traitorous hearts that dare rebel Let them behold the wide and hugy fields With blood & body spread with rebels slain, The lusty trees clothed with corpses dead That strangled with the cord do hang therein. A just reward such as all times before Have ever lotted to those wretched folks. But what means he that cometh here so fast. My Lords, as duty and my troth doth move And of my Country work and care in me That if the spending of my breath avail To do the Service that my heart desires, I would not shun to embrace a present death, So have I now in that wherein I thought My travail mought perform some good effects Ventured my lief to bring these tidings here. Fergus the mighty Duke of Albany Is now in Arms and lodgeth in the field With twenty thousand men, hither he bends His speedy mark, & minds to invade the Crown Daily he gathereth strength and spreads abroad That to this Realm no certain Heir remains, That Britain Land is left without a guide, That he the Sceptre seeks, for nothing else But to preserve the people and the Land Which now remain as ship without a Stern Lo this is that which I have hereto said.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Of pardon ſweete (the multitude miſlead By traiterous fraude of their vngracious heades) One ſorte that ſawe the daungerous ſucceſſe Of ſtubborne ſtandynge in rebellious warre And knewe the difference of Princes power From headles nombre of tumultuous routes, Whom cōmen Countreies care and priuate feare Taught to repent the terrour of their rage Laide handes vpon the Capatines of their bande, And brought them bound vnto the mightie Dukes An other ſorte not truſting yet ſo well The trueth of Pardon or miſtruſting more Their owne offence than that thei could conceiue Suche hope of pardon for ſo foule miſdede: Or for that they their Captaines could not yeld Who fearinge to be yelded, flead before, Stale home by ſcilence of the ſecrete night, The thirde vnhappie and vnraged ſorte Of deſperate harts, who ſtained in Princes blood From trayterous furour could not be withdrawen By loue, by lawe, by grace, ne yet by feare, By proffered lyfe, ne yet by threatened Death, With mindes hopeles of liefe, dreadles of Deathe, Careles of Countrey, and aweles of God: Stoode bente to fighte as Furies did them moue With violent death to cloſe their traiterous lyfe: Theſe all by power of Horſemen were oppreſt And with reuenging ſworde ſlayne in the fielde, Or with the ſtrangling Cord hanged on the trees Where yet the carryen Carcaſes do proche The fruites that Rebelles reape of their vproars, And of the murder of their ſacred Prince, But loe, where do approche the noble Dukes, By whom theſe tumults haue ben thus appeaſde. I thinke the worlde wyll now at length beware▪ And feare to put on armes agaynſt their Prince. If not: thoſe trayterous hartes that dare rebell Let them beholde the wide and hugie fieldes With bloode & bodie ſpread with rebelles ſlayne, The luſtie trees clothed with corpſes dead That ſtrangled with the corde do hange therin. A iuſt rewarde ſuche as all tymes before Haue euer lotted to thoſe wretched folkes. But what meanes he that cōmeth here ſo faſt. My Lords, as duetie and my trouth doth moue And of my Countrey worke and care in mee That if the ſpendynge of my breath auaile To do the Seruice that my harte deſires, I would not ſhunne to imbrace a preſent death, So haue I nowe in that wherein I thought My trauayle mought perfourme ſome good effect Ventred my liefe to bringe theſe tydinges here. Fergus the mightie Duke of Albanye Is nowe in Armes and lodgeth in the fielde With twentie thouſand men, hether he bendes His ſpedie marcke, & minds to inuade the Crowne Dayly he gathereth ſtrength and ſpreads abrode That to this Realme no certeine Heire remaines, That Brittayne Lande is left without a guyde, That he the Scepter ſeekes, for nothing els But to preſerue the people and the Lande Whiche now remaine as ſhip without a Sterne Loe this is that whiche I haue hereto ſaide.