Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1606 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho typicality 0.81 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Accursed be that tongue that tells me so; For it hath Cowed my better part of man: And be these juggling Fiends no more believed, That palter with us in a double sense, That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee. Then yield thee Coward, And live to be the show, and gaze o' th' time. we'll have thee, as our rarer Monsters are Painted upon a pole, and underwit, here may you see the Tyrant. I will not yield To kiss the ground before young Malcolmes feet, And to be baited with the Rabbles curse. Though Byrnane would be come to Dunsinane, And thou opposed, being of no woman borne, Yet I will try the last. Before my body, I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on Macduffe, And damned be him, that first cries hold, enough. I would the Friends we miss, were safe arrived. Some must go off: and yet by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought. Macduffe is missing, and your Noble Son. Your son my Lord, has paid a soldier's debt, He only lived but till he was a man, The which no sooner had his Prowess confirmed In the unshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he died. Then he is dead? I, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow Must not be measured by his worth, for than It hath no end. Had he his hurts before? I, on the Front. Why then, God's Soldier be he: Had I as many Sons, as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death: And so his Knell is knolled. he's worth more sorrow, And that I'll spend for him. He's worth no more, They say he parted well, and paid his score, And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort. Hail King, for so thou art. Behold where stands Th' Usurper's cursed head: the time is free: I see thee compassed with thy Kingdom's Pearl, That speak my salutation in their minds: Whose voices I desire aloud with mine. Hail King of Scotland. Hail King of Scotland. We shall not spend a large expense of time, Before we reckon with your several loves, And make us even with you. My Thanes and Kinsmen Henceforth be Earls, the first that ever Scotland In such an Honour named: What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exiled Friends abroad, That fled the Snares of watchful Tyranny, Producing forth the cruel Ministers Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiendlike Queen; Who (as 'tis thought) by self and violent hands, took off her life. This, and what needful else That calls upon us, by the Grace of Grace, We will perform in measure, time, and place: So thankes to all at once, and to each one, Whom we invite, to see us Crowned at Scone.
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)
Accurſed be that tongue that tels mee ſo; For it hath Cow'd my better part of man: And be theſe Iugling Fiends no more beleeu'd, That palter with vs in a double ſence, That keepe the word of promiſe to our eare, And breake it to our hope. Ile not fight with thee. Then yeeld thee Coward, And liue to be the ſhew, and gaze o' th' time. Wee'l haue thee, as our rarer Monſters are Painted vpon a pole, and vnder-writ, Heere may you ſee the Tyrant. I will not yeeld To kiſſe the ground before young Malcolmes feet, And to be baited with the Rabbles curſe. Though Byrnane wood be come to Dunſinane, And thou oppos'd, being of no woman borne, Yet I will try the laſt. Before my body, I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on Macduffe, And damn'd be him, that firſt cries hold, enough. I would the Friends we miſſe, were ſafe arriu'd. Some muſt go off: and yet by theſe I ſee, So great a day as this is cheapely bought. Macduffe is miſſing, and your Noble Sonne. Your ſon my Lord, ha's paid a ſouldiers debt, He onely liu'd but till he was a man, The which no ſooner had his Proweſſe confirm'd In the vnſhrinking ſtation where he fought, But like a man he dy'de. Then he is dead? I, and brought off the field: your cauſe of ſorrow Muſt not be meaſur'd by his worth, for then It hath no end. Had he his hurts before? I, on the Front. Why then, Gods Soldier be he: Had I as many Sonnes, as I haue haires, I would not wiſh them to a fairer death: And ſo his Knell is knoll'd. Hee's worth more ſorrow, And that Ile ſpend for him. He's worth no more, They ſay he parted well, and paid his ſcore, And ſo God be with him. Here comes newer comfort▪ Haile King, for ſo thou art. Behold where ſtands Th' Vſurpers curſed head: the time is free: I ſee thee compaſt with thy Kingdomes Pearle, That ſpeake my ſalutation in their minds: Whoſe voyces I deſire alowd with mine. Haile King of Scotland. Haile King of Scotland. We ſhall not ſpend a large expence of time, Before we reckon with your ſeuerall loues, And make vs euen with you. My Thanes and Kinſmen Henceforth be Earles, the firſt that euer Scotland In ſuch an Honor nam'd: What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exil'd Friends abroad, That fled the Snares of watchfull Tyranny, Producing forth the cruell Miniſters Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend-like Queene; Who (as 'tis thought) by ſelfe and violent hands, Tooke off her life. This, and what needfull elſe That call's vpon vs, by the Grace of Grace, We will performe in meaſure, time, and place: So thankes to all at once, and to each one, Whom we inuite, to ſee vs Crown'd at Scone.