Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1591 [1590-1591] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea typicality 0.84 · 530 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
England thou hast not saved one drop of blood In this hot trial more than we of France, Rather lost more. And by this hand I swear That sways the earth this Climate overlookes, Before we will lay down our iust-borne Arms, we'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these Arms we bear, Or add a royal number to the dead: Gracing the scroll that tells of this wars loss, With slaughter coupled to the name of kings. Ha' Majesty: how high thy glory towers, When the rich blood of kings is set on fire: Oh now doth death line his dead chaps with steel, The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs, And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men In vndetermin'd differences of kings. Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus: Cry havoc kings, back to the stained field You equal Potents, fiery kindled spirits, Then let confusion of one part confirm The others peace: till then, blows, blood, and death. Whose party do the Townsmen yet admit? Speak Citizens for England, whos's your king. The king of England, when we know the king. Know him in us, that here hold up his right. In Us, that are our own great Deputy, And bear possession of our Person here, Lord of our presence Angiers, and of you. A greater power then We denies all this, And till it be undoubted, we do lock Our former scruple in our strong barred gates: Kings of our fear, until our fears resolved Be by some certain king, purged and deposed. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you kings, And stand securely on their battelments, As in a Theatre, whence they gape and point At your industrious Scenes and acts of death. Your Royal presences be ruled by me, Do like the Mutines of Ierusalem, Be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend Your sharpest Deeds of malice on this Town. By East and West let France and England mount. Their battering Canon charged to the mouths, Till their soule-fearing clamours have brauled down The flinty ribs of this contemptuous City, I'd play incessantly upon these jades, Even till unfenced desolation Leave them as naked as the vulgar air: That done, dissever your united strengths, And part your mingled colours once again, Turn face to face, and bloody point to point: Then in a moment Fortune shall cull forth Out of one side her happy Minion, To whom in favour she shall give the day, And kiss him with a glorious victory: How like you this wild counsel mighty States, Smacks it not something of the policy. Now by the sky that hangs above our heads, I like it well. France, shall we knit our powers, And lay this Angiers even with the ground, Then after fight who shall be king of it? And if thou hast the mettle of a king, Being wronged as we are by this peevish Town: Turn thou the mouth of thy Artillery, As we will ours, against these saucy walls, And when that we have dashed them to the ground, Why then defy each other, and pellmell, Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell.
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)
England thou haſt not ſau'd one drop of blood In this hot triall more then we of France, Rather loſt more. And by this hand I ſweare That ſwayes the earth this Climate ouer-lookes, Before we will lay downe our iuſt-borne Armes, Wee'l put thee downe, 'gainſt whom theſe Armes wee beare, Or adde a royall number to the dead: Gracing the ſcroule that tels of this warres loſſe, With ſlaughter coupled to the name of kings. Ha Maieſty: how high thy glory towres, When the rich blood of kings is ſet on fire: Oh now doth death line his dead chaps with ſteele, The ſwords of ſouldiers are his teeth, his phangs, And now he feaſts, mouſing the fleſh of men In vndetermin'd differences of kings. Why ſtand theſe royall fronts amazed thus: Cry hauocke kings, backe to the ſtained field You equall Potents, fierie kindled ſpirits, Then let confuſion of one part confirm The others peace: till then, blowes, blood, and death. Whoſe party do the Towneſmen yet admit? Speake Citizens for England, whoſe your king. The king of England, when we know the king. Know him in vs, that heere hold vp his right. In Vs, that are our owne great Deputie, And beare poſſeſſion of our Perſon heere▪ Lord of our preſence Angiers, and of you. A greater powre then▪ We denies all this, And till it be vndoubted, we do locke Our former ſcruple in our ſtrong barr'd gates: Kings of our feare, vntill our feares reſolu'd Be by ſome certaine king, purg'd and depos'd. By heauen, theſe ſcroyles of Angiers flout you kings, And ſtand ſecurely on their battelments, As in a Theater, whence they gape and point At your induſtrious Scenes and acts of death. Your Royall preſences be rul'd by mee, Do like the Mutines of Ieruſalem, Be friends a-while, and both conioyntly bend Your ſharpeſt Deeds of malice on this Towne. By Eaſt and Weſt let France and England mount. Their battering Canon charged to the mouthes, Till their ſoule-fearing clamours haue braul'd downe The flintie ribbes of this contemptuous Citie, I'de play inceſſantly vpon theſe Iades, Euen till vnfenced deſolation Leaue them as naked as the vulgar ayre: That done, diſſeuer your vnited ſtrengths, And part your mingled colours once againe, Turne face to face, and bloody point to point: Then in a moment Fortune ſhall cull forth Out of one ſide her happy Minion, To whom in fauour ſhe ſhall giue the day, And kiſſe him with a glorious victory: How like you this wilde counſell mighty States, Smackes it not ſomething of the policie. Now by the sky that hangs aboue our heads, I like it well. France, ſhall we knit our powres, And lay this Angiers euen with the ground, Then after fight who ſhall be king of it? And if thou haſt the mettle of a king, Being wrong'd as we are by this peeuiſh Towne: Turne thou the mouth of thy Artillerie, As we will ours, againſt theſe ſawcie walles, And when that we haue daſh'd them to the ground, Why then defie each other, and pell-mell, Make worke vpon our ſelues, for heauen or hell.