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 0.74 · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Thus while the Vulture of sedition, Feeds in the bosom of such great Commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss: The Conquest of our scarse-cold Conqueror, That everliving man of Memory, Henry the fift: Whiles they each other cross, Lives, Honours, Lands, and all, hurry to loss. It is too late, I cannot send them now: This expedition was by York and Talbot, Too rashly plotted. All our general force, Might with a sally of the very Town Be buckled with: the overdaring Talbot Hath sullied all his gloss of former Honour By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure: York set him on to fight, and dye in shame, That Talbot dead, great York might bear the name. here is Sir William Lucy, who with me Set from our o'ermatched forces forth for aid. How now Sir William, whether were you sent? Whether my Lord, from bought & sold L. Talbot, Who ringed about with bold adversity, Cries out for noble York and Somerset, To beat assailing death from his weak Regions, And whiles the honourable Captain there Drops bloody sweat from his warre-wearied limbs, And in advantage lingering looks for rescue, You his false hopes, the trust of England's honour, Keep off aloof with worthless emulation: Let not your private discord keep away The levied succours that should lend him aid, While he renowned Noble Gentleman Yield up his life unto a world of odds. Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy, Alencon, Reignard, compass him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default. York set him on, York should have sent him aid. And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims, Swearing that you withhold his levied host, Collected for this expedition. York lies: He might have sent, & had the Horse: I own him little Duty, and less Love, And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending. The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now entrapped the Noble-minded Talbot: Never to England shall he bear his life, But dies betrayed to fortune by your strife. Come go, I will dispatch the Horsemen straight: Within six hours, they will be at his aid. Too late comes rescue, he is ta'en or slain, For fly he could not, if he would have fled: And fly would Talbot never though he might. If he be dead, brave Talbot then adieu. His Fame lives in the world. His Shame in you. O young Iohn Talbot, I did send for thee, To tutor thee in stratagems of War, That Talbots name might be in thee revived, When sapless Age, and weak unable limbs Should bring thy Father to his drooping Chair. But O malignant and ill-boding Stars, Now thou art come unto a Feast of death, A terrible and unavoided danger: Therefore dear Boy, mount on my swiftest horse, And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape By sudden flight. Come, dally not, be gone.
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)
Thus while the Vulture of ſedition, Feedes in the boſome of ſuch great Commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loſſe: The Conqueſt of our ſcarſe-cold Conqueror, That euer-liuing man of Memorie, Henrie the fift: Whiles they each other croſſe, Liues, Honours, Lands, and all, hurrie to loſſe. It is too late, I cannot ſend them now: This expedition was by Yorke and Talbot, Too raſhly plotted. All our generall force, Might with a ſally of the very Towne Be buckled with: the ouer-daring Talbot Hath ſullied all his gloſſe of former Honor By this vnheedfull, deſperate, wilde aduenture: Yorke ſet him on to fight, and dye in ſhame, That Talbot dead, great Yorke might beare the name. Heere is Sir William Lucie, who with me Set from our ore-matcht forces forth for ayde. How now Sir William, whether were you ſent? Whether my Lord, from bought & ſold L. Talbot, Who ring'd about with bold aduerſitie, Cries out for noble Yorke and Somerſet, To beate aſſayling death from his weake Regions, And whiles the honourable Captaine there Drops bloody ſwet from his warre-wearied limbes, And in aduantage lingring lookes for reſcue, You his falſe hopes, the truſt of Englands honor, Keepe off aloofe with worthleſſe emulation: Let not your priuate diſcord keepe away The leuied ſuccours that ſhould lend him ayde, While he renowned Noble Gentleman Yeeld vp his life vnto a world of oddes. Orleance the Baſtard, Charles, Burgundie, Alanſon, Reignard, compaſſe him about, And Talbot periſheth by your default. Yorke ſet him on, Yorke ſhould haue ſent him ayde. And Yorke as faſt vpon your Grace exclaimes, Swearing that you with-hold his leuied hoaſt, Collected for this expidition. York lyes: He might haue ſent, & had the Horſe: I owe him little Dutie, and leſſe Loue, And take foule ſcorne to fawne on him by ſending. The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now intrapt the Noble-minded Talbot: Neuer to England ſhall he beare his life, But dies betraid to fortune by your ſtrife. Come go, I will diſpatch the Horſemen ſtrait: Within ſixe houres, they will be at his ayde. Too late comes reſcue, he is tane or ſlaine, For flye he could not, if he would haue fled: And flye would Talbot neuer though he might. If he be dead, braue Talbot then adieu. His Fame liues in the world. His Shame in you. O yong Iohn Talbot, I did ſend for thee▪ To tutor thee in ſtratagems of Warre, That Talbots name might be in thee reuiu'd, When ſapleſſe Age, and weake vnable limbes Should bring thy Father to his drooping Chaire. But O malignant and ill-boading Starres, Now thou art come vnto a Feaſt of death, A terrible and vnauoyded danger: Therefore deere Boy, mount on my ſwifteſt horſe, And Ile direct thee how thou ſhalt eſcape By ſodaine flight. Come, dally not, be gone.