Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
Not so. Mistake me not, but i'll not yield them chief, Each body well composed, it doth consist Of divers members, framed by art, yet natural; The body where are lodged the chiefest parts, I liken it unto the Infantry; The exterior parts to the Cavalry. The heart commands, the members execute; So they to us, not we to them give way. But where they are alone, all absolute: What they can do, against yourself you proud. Why that's Barbarian, and not christianlike, Where multitude prevails, not discipline, And in such places, as I named before; As witness are those three days cruel fight Huniades maintained 'gainst mighty Amurath The second: in Cossoua's fatal plains. He kept an hill with thirty thousand men; Ten thousand horse, the rest were all on foot Against the Turks that lay like Grasshoppers, Filling those plains, eight miles in compass round: This little handful, rolled and turned about, On that hills top in strong and close array, Flamed like a Candle 'mongst a world of flies, That burned themselves, ere they could put it out: At length with travel tired, with blows & wounds All rent and torn, choked up with smoke & stench Of bodies dead: match, powder, bullets spent This light did glimmer, flashed, and so went out. What did the horsemen there, did none escape? They quit their horse, and made them as a wall For their defence, and fought it out on foot, Almost to the last man, some few escaped; And swam the river, got into a wood Among the which, Huniades was one The half beat conquering Turks had all enough, Stood still and gazed, and glad to see him gone. Was not the Seigneur proud, on's victory, Rejoicing much at his Hungarian spoils. So proud, he mourned: was sick with grief and hate, Of this his Conquest, at so dear a rate. This likes me well, but ere you do proceed, I'll drink to you: now am I for the foot, here's to you all, my noble phantasms. Sir, one health more, your Father's health, I mean, That good old man, he must not be forgot. Drink't out I pray thee, I will have no more. Were you a Younker, made of beaten gold, You should have this; What nor your Father's health? No, not his health, to drink away mine own. But drink to Hans, I see by his lips he's dry; He wants it, I do not, he'll drink for me, Or to the Sergeant, he can get no drink. Nor him, nor he, i'll drink to none but you, I'll keep my man, I learned that trick at School. Am I your man, god Bacchus, tosspot Knight, Would glass and drink were both besides thy guts; I tell thee, i'll no more. Come Pasquill, I Will pledge thee, I can yet hold out, two cups, Two slashes on the legs will not be felt. I am as strong as Hercules near out.
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)
Not ſo. Miſtake me not, but ile not yeeld them chiefe, Each body well compoſde, it doth conſiſte Of diuers members, framde by art, yet naturall; The body where are lodgde the chiefeſt parts, I liken it vnto the Infanterie; The exteriour parts to the Cauallerie. The heart commaunds, the members execute; So they to vs, not we to them giue way. But where they are alone, all abſolute: What they can doe, againſt your ſelfe you proude. Why thats Barbarian, and not Chriſtian-like, Where multitude preuayles, not diſcipline, And in ſuch places, as I namde before; As witneſſe are thoſe three dayes cruell fight Huniades maintaind gainſt mighty Amurath The ſecond: in Coſſoas fatall plaines. He kept an hill with thirty thouſand men; Ten thouſand horſe, the reſt were all on foot Againſt the Turkes that lay like Graſhoppers, Filling thoſe plaines, eight miles in compaſſe round: This little handfull, roulde and turnde about, On that hils top in ſtrong and cloſe array, Flamde like a Candle mongſt a world of flyes, That burnt themſelues, ere they could put it out: At length with trauell tyrde, with blows & wounds All rent and torne, choakt vp with ſmoake & ſtench Of bodies dead: match, poulder, bullets ſpent This light did glimmer, flaſht, and ſo went out▪ What did the horſmen there, did none eſcape? They quit their horſe, and made them as a wal For their defence, and fought it out on foot, Almoſt to the laſt man, ſome few eſcapte; And ſwamme the riuer, got into a wood Among the which, Huniades was one The halfe beat conquering Turks had all enough, Stood ſtill and gazde, and glad to ſee him gone. Was not the Seigneur proude, ons victory, Reioycing much at his Hungarian ſpoyles. So proude, he mournd: was ſicke with griefe and hate, Of this his Conqueſt, at ſo deare a rate. This likes me well, but ere you doe proceed, Ile drinke to you: now am I for the foot, Heeres to you all, my noble Fantaſſines. Sir, one health more, your Fathers health, I meane, That good olde man, he muſt not be forgot. Drink't out I pray thee, I will haue no more. Were you a Younker, made of beaten golde, You ſhould haue this; What nor your Fathers health? No, not his health▪ to drinke away mine owne▪ But drinke to Hans, I ſee by his lips hee's drie; He wants it, I doe not, heele drinke for me, Or to the Serieant, he can get no drinke. Nor him, nor he, ile drinke to none but you, Ile keepe my man, I learn't that tricke at Schoole. Am I your man, god Bacchus, toſſepot Knight, Would glaſſe and drinke were both beſides thy guts; I tell thee, ile no more. Come Paſquill, I Will pledge thee, I can yet hold out, two cups, Two ſlaſhes on the legs will not be felt. I am as ſtrong as Hercules neere out.