Early Modern Drama · Character Archetypes

FIRST SERGEANT

in Ane Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis — Lindsay, David, Sir

Metadata

PlayAne Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis
AuthorLindsay, David, Sir
Year (catalogued)1602
Decade1600s
Speech prefix(es)Firſt Sergeant. | Firſt Serge. | ¶Firſt Sergeant. | Frſt Ser. | Firſt Segeant. | Fi. Serg. | Firſt Ser.
Words326
Characters1687
Typicality0.32 (cosine to cluster centroid)
TCP idA72573
ClusterCluster 21 — Old fathers & plain counsel

Important excerpts

No keyword-matching excerpt could be extracted (the cluster label doesn't share vocabulary with this character's speech).

Full speech

Sovereign Lords we shall obey ȝour commands: Brother upon their limmers lay on thy hands. Rise up soon loun thou luiks evin like ane lurden: Ȝour mouth war meit to drink and wesche jurden. Their is nought in all this town, Bot I walled nought this taill war tald Bot I walled hang him for his Gone, Quhidder that it war Laird or laid. I trow this pellour be spur-gaid, Put in thy hand into this cord, Howbeit I see thy skap skyre skaid: Thou art ane stewat I stand foird. Cum on sir freir and be nought fleyit, The King our master mon be obeyit, Bot ȝe shall have nam harm: Give ȝe walled travel From town to town, I think this hude and heavy Gone Will hold ȝour wambe ouir warm Their freirs to chaip punition, Haulds them at their exemption, And nam man will obey: They ar exempt I ȝow assure, Baith From Paip, king and Empreour, And that makes all the play. Fie huirsun carl I feil ane stink Sir pleis ȝe that we twa invaid them, And ȝe shall see us soon degraid them, Of coill and chaplarie? Cum on my Lady Priores, We shall leir ȝow to dance: And that within ane little space, Ane new pavin of France. Now brother be the Mass, Be my judgement I think This holy Priores Is turnit in ane cowclink. Cum heir sir Thief, cum heir, cum heir When war ȝe wont to be sa sweir? To hunt Cattle ȝe war ay speidie Therefore ȝe shall weave in ane widdy. Thou art ane limmer I stand foird Slip in thy head into this coird: For thou had never ane meiter tippit, Speid hand man with thy clitter clatter. Cum heir Falset & mence the gallows, Ȝe man hing up among ȝour fallows, For ȝour cankart condition: Money ane true man have ȝe wragnit, Therefore but doubt ȝe salbe hangit, But mercy or remission.