Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William / Nashe, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1590 (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea typicality 0.81 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
What will Lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgonie. But yet before we go, let's not forget The Noble Duke of Bedford, late deceased, But see his Exequys fulfilled in Rouen. A braver Soldier never couched Lance, A gentler Heart did never sway in Court. But Kings and mightiest Potentates must die, For that's the end of humane misery. Dismay not (Princes) at this accident, Nor grieve that, Rouen is so recovered: Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, For things that are not to be remedied. Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while, And like a Peacock sweep along his tail, we'll pull his Plumes, and take away his Train, If Dolphin and the rest will be but ruled. We have been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy Cunning had no diffidence, One sudden Foil shall never breed distrust. Search out thy wit for secret policies, And we will make thee famous through the World. we'll set thy Statue in some holy place, And have thee reverenced like a blessed Saint. Employ thee then, sweet Virgin, for our good. Then thus it must be, this doth Ioane device: By fair persuasions, mixed with sugared words, We will entice the Duke of Burgonie To leave the Talbot, and to follow us. I marry Sweeting, if we could do that, France were no place for Henry's Warriors, Nor should that Nation boast it so with us, But be extirped from our Provinces. For ever should they be expulsed from France, And not have Title of an Earldom here. Your Honours shall perceive how I will work, To bring this matter to the wished end. Hark, by the sound of Drum you may perceive Their Powers are marching unto Paris-ward. There goes the Talbot with his Colours spread, And all the Troops of English after him. Now in the Rearward comes the Duke and his: Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. Summon a Parley, we will talk with him. A Parley with the Duke of Burgonie. Who craves a Parley with the Burgonie? The Princely Charles of France, thy Countryman. What sayst thou Charles? for I am marching hence. Speak Pucell, and enchant him with thy words. Brave Burgonie, undoubted hope of France, Stay, let thy humble Handmaid speak to thee. Speak on, but be not over-tedious. Look on thy Country, look on fertile France, And see the Cities and the Towns defaced, By wasting Ruin of the cruel Foe, As looks the Mother on her lowly Babe, When Death doth close his tender-dying Eyes. See, see the pining Malady of France: Behold the Wounds, the most unnatural Wounds, Which thou thyself hast given her woeful Breast. Oh turn thy edged Sword another way, Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help: One drop of Blood drawn from thy Country's Bosom, Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore. Return thee therefore with a flood of Tears, And wash away thy Country's stained Spots.
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)
What wills Lord Talbot, pleaſeth Burgonie. But yet before we goe, let's not forget The Noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd, But ſee his Exequies fulfill'd in Roan. A brauer Souldier neuer couched Launce, A gentler Heart did neuer ſway in Court. But Kings and mightieſt Potentates muſt die, For that's the end of humane miſerie. Diſmay not (Princes) at this accident, Nor grieue that▪ Roan is ſo recouered: Care is no cure, but rather corroſiue, For things that are not to be remedy'd. Let frantike Talbot triumph for a while, And like a Peacock ſweepe along his tayle, Wee'le pull his Plumes, and take away his Trayne, If Dolphin and the reſt will be but rul'd. We haue been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy Cunning had no diffidence, One ſudden Foyle ſhall neuer breed diſtruſt. Search out thy wit for ſecret pollicies, And we will make thee famous through the World. Wee'le ſet thy Statue in ſome holy place, And haue thee reuerenc't like a bleſſed Saint. Employ thee then, ſweet Virgin, for our good. Then thus it muſt be, this doth Ioane deuiſe: By faire perſwaſions, mixt with ſugred words, We will entice the Duke of Burgonie To leaue the Talbot, and to follow vs. I marry Sweeting, if we could doe that, France were no place for Henryes Warriors, Nor ſhould that Nation boaſt it ſo with vs, But be extirped from our Prouinces. For euer ſhould they be expuls'd from France, And not haue Title of an Earledome here. Your Honors ſhall perceiue how I will worke, To bring this matter to the wiſhed end. Hearke, by the ſound of Drumme you may perceiue Their Powers are marching vnto Paris-ward. There goes the Talbot with his Colours ſpred, And all the Troupes of Engliſh after him. Now in the Rereward comes the Duke and his: Fortune in fauor makes him lagge behinde. Summon a Parley, we will talke with him. A Parley with the Duke of Burgonie. Who craues a Parley with the Burgonie? The Princely Charles of France, thy Countrey-man. What ſay'ſt thou Charles? for I am marching hence. Speake Pucell, and enchaunt him with thy words. Braue Burgonie, vndoubted hope of France, Stay, let thy humble Hand-maid ſpeake to thee. Speake on, but be not ouer-tedious. Looke on thy Country, look on fertile France, And ſee the Cities and the Townes defac't, By waſting Ruine of the cruell Foe, As lookes the Mother on her lowly Babe, When Death doth cloſe his tender-dying Eyes. See, ſee the pining Maladie of France: Behold the Wounds, the moſt vnnaturall Wounds, Which thou thy ſelfe haſt giuen her wofull Breſt. Oh turne thy edged Sword another way, Strike thoſe that hurt, and hurt not thoſe that helpe: One drop of Blood drawne from thy Countries Boſome, Should grieue thee more then ſtreames of forraine gore. Returne thee therefore with a floud of Teares, And waſh away thy Countries ſtayned Spots.