The Valiant Welshman (Caradoc the Great) · chunk 2 of 32
A., R. · published 1615 · first performed or written 1612 [1610-1615] (Annals) history · Prince Henry's Men T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho typicality 0.81 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Twice, in two haughty set Battalions, The base usurper Munmouth got the day: And now Octavian spurred with grief and rage, Conducted by a more propitious star, Himself in person comes to Shrewsbury, Where the great Earl of March, great in his age, But greater in the circuit of his power, Yet greatest in the fortunes of his sons, The Father of our valiant Welshman called, Himself, his warlike sons, and all doth bring, To supplant Treason, and to plant their King. No more I'll speak: but this old Bard entreats, To keep your understanding and your seats. Gloster, Lord Codigune, And Noble Morgan, Earl of Anglesey, Can the usurping name of Monmouth live Within the airy confines of your souls, And not infect the purest temprature Of loyalty and sworn allegiance, With that base Apoplexy of revolt, And eager appetite of sovereign might, Counting the greatest wrong, the greatest right? Full many Moons have these two aged lights Beheld in peaceful wise: Now, to my grief, When the pure oil, that fed these aged Lamps, Is almost spent, and dimly shines those beams, That in my youth darted forth spriteful rays, Must now die miserable and undone, By monstrous and base usurpation. Thrice noble king, be patient, this I read, The Gods have feet of wool, but hands of lead: And therefore in revenge as sure, as slow. What though two Royal Armies we have lost? He that bears man about him, must be crossed: And that base Monmouth, that with his goldenhead Salutes the Sun, may with the Sun fall dead. For base Rebellion draws so short a breath, That in the day she moves, she moves to death: And like the Marigold opens with the Sun, But at the night her pride is shut and done. Hark you, me Lord Codigune, By the pones of Saint Tany, you have prattled to the King a great deal of good Physic, and for this one of her good lessons and destructions, how call you it, be Cad, I know not very well, I will fight for you with all the George Stones, or the Vrsa majors under the Suns. Hark you me, Kings: I pray you now, good Kings, leave your whimbling, and your great proclamations: let death come at her, and ha' can catch her, and pray God bless her. As for the Rebel Monmouth, I know very well what I will do with her. I will make Martlemas beef on her flesh, and false dice on her pones for every Coney-catcher: I warrant her for Case bobby and Metheglin: I will make her pate ring noon for all her resurrections and rebellions. But soft, what Drum is this, That with her silent march salutes the air? Herald, go see. an't please your Grace, Cadallan, Earl of March Spurred on by duty and obsequious love, Repining at the Fortune of your foe, Whose ravening tyranny devours the lives Of innocent subjects, now in person comes, To scourge base usurpation with his sons.
seed 43: T22 · seed 44: T13 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Twise, in two haughty set Battalions, The base vsurper Munmouth got the day: And now Octauian spurde with griefe and rage, Conducted by a more propitious starre, Himselfe in person comes to Shrewsbury, Where the great Earle of March, great in his age, But greater in the circuit of his power, Yet greatest in the fortunes of his sonnes, The Father of our valiant Welshman calld, Himselfe, his warlike sonnes, and all doth bring, To supplant Treason, and to plant their King. No more Ile speake: but this olde Barde intreats, To keepe your vnderstanding and your seates. Gloster, Lord Codigune, And Noble Morgan, Earle of Anglesey, Can the vsurping name of Monmouth liue VVithin the ayry confines of your soules, And not infect the purest temprature Of loyalty and sworne allegeance, With that base Apoplexie of reuolt, And egre appetite of soueraigne might, Counting the greatest wrong, the greatest right? Full many Moones haue these two aged lights Beheld in peacefull wise: Now, to my griefe, When the pure oyle, that fed these aged Lampes, Is almost spent, and dimly shines those beames, That in my youth darted forth spritefull rayes, Must now die miserable and vndone, By monstrous and base vsurpation. Thrise noble king, be patient, this I reade, The Gods haue feet of wooll, but hands of lead: And therefore in reuenge as sure, as slow. What though two Royall Armies we haue lost? He that beares man about him, must be crost: And that base Monmouth, that with his goldēhead Salutes the Sunne, may with the Sunne fal dead. For base Rebellion drawes so short a breath, That in the day she moues, she moues to death: And like the Marigold opens with the Sunne, But at the night her pride is shut and done. Harke you, me Lord Codigune, By the pones of Saint Tany, you haue prattled to the King a great deale of good Phisicke, and for this one of her good lessons and destructions, how call you it, be Cad, I know not very well, I wil fight for you with all the George Stones, or the Vrsa maiors vnder the Sunnes. Harke you me, Kings: I pray you now, good Kings, leaue your whimbling, and your great proclamations: let death come at her, and ha can catch her, and pray God blesse her. As for the Rebell Monmouth, I kanow very well what I will do with her. I will make Martlemas beefe on her flesh, and false dice on her pones for euery Conicatcher: I warrant her for Case bobby and Metheglin: I will make her pate ring noone for all her resurrections and rebellions. But soft, what Drum is this, That with her silent march salutes the ayre? Herald, go see. And't please your Grace, Cadallan, Earle of March Spurred on by duty and obsequious loue, Repining at the Fortune of your foe, Whose rauening tyranny deuoures the liues Of innocent subiects, now in person comes, To scourge base vsurpation with his sonnes.