Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
lord_n	duke_n	king_n	send_v	11,139	5	6.1665	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A20033	Syr Degore		1513 (1513)	STC 6470; ESTC S118476	13,727	38

fayne take my londes And yf my gloues wyll not soo Thenne wyll I take my leue and goo All the women were out brought That there aboute myght be sought All the assayed the gloues than But they where mete for no woman Syr Degore toke vp his gloues anone And also toke leue for to gone The Erle was a lorde of gentyll blode He gaue syr Degore a stede ryght good And therto he gaue hym good armure The whiche was both fayre and sure And also a page his man to be And an hakneye to ryde on truely Syr Degore was glade and blythe And thanked the erle many a sythe He rode forthe vpon his waye Many a myle vpon somers daye Vpon a daye moche people he mette He houed styll and fayre them grette And asked a squyre what tydynge And frome whens came all that folke rydynge The squyre sayd syr veramente They come frome the parlamente Fro a counseyll the kynge dyde make The whiche is for his doughters sake But whan the parlament was moost plenere The kynge lete crye bothe fer and nere Yf ony man were soo bolde That with the kynge Iust wolde He sholde haue his doughter in maryage And all his londe and herytage It is a londe bothe good and fayre And the kynge therto had none ayre But sertes there dare no man graunt therto Many one sayd they myght not doo For euery man that rydeth to hym He beteth them with strokes grym Some he breketh the necke anone Of some he cracketh bothe backe and bone Some thrughe the body he glytte And some to deth he smytte And to hym may no man do nothynge Suche a grace euer had our kynge Syr Degore stode in a stody than And thought he was a doughty man And I am in my yonge blode And I haue horse and armure good And as I trowe a full good stede I wyll assaye yf that I may spede And yf I may bere the kynge downe I may be a man of grete renowne And yf that he me fell can There knoweth no body what I am Dethe or lyfe what so me be tyde I wyll ones ayenst hym ryde Thus in the cyte his ynne he takes And rested hym and mery makes So vpon a day the kynge he mette He kneled downe and fayre hym grette He sayde syr kynge of moche myght My lorde hath sent me to you ryght To warne you how it shall be My lorde wyll come and fyght with the To Iust with the my lorde hathe nome The kynge sayd he shall be welcome Be he knyghte or barowne Erle Duke or chorle in towne There is no man I wyll forsake Who all may wynne all may take ¶ How syr Degore Iusted with the kynge of Englonde and smote hym downe SO on the morowe the day was sette The kynge auysed moche the bette But thenne there was no lyuynge man That Degore trusted moche vpon But to chirche that tyme went he To here a masse of the trynyte To the fader he offered a floryne And to the sone another fyne The thyrde to the holy goost he offered The preest in his masse for hym prayed And whan the masse was done Vnto his ynne he wente anone He dyde arme hym well in dede In ryche armure good at nede His good stede he began to stryde And toke his spere and forthe dyde ryde His knaue toke an other spere And after his mayster gan it bere Thus in the felde syr degore a bode than They kynge came with many a man Many came theder redely To se the iustynge truely All that in the felde were They sayd and dyde swere That they neuer or that tyme se So fayre a man with theyr eye As was that yonge knyght syr Degore But non wyst what man was he They rode to gyder at the laste On theyr good stedes full faste The kynge had the gretter shafte And more he coude of that crafte To dasshe hym downe thenne had he mente And in his shylde sette shuche a dente That his good spere all to braste But Degore was stronge and sat fast Than sayd the kynge alas alas For me befell neuer suche a case There was neuer man that I myght hit That euer myght my stroke sytte This is a man all for the nones For he is a man of grete bones Thenne toke the kynge a gretter tre And square also mote I the And yf his necke wyll not a two His backe shall or that I goo The kynge rode to hym with grete randowne And thought to haue dasshed the chylde downe He smote syr Degore soone anone Ryght before the brst bone That his horse was rered on hye And syr Degore was fallen nye Syr Degore thus his cours out yode He was sore angry in his mode Alas he sayd I haue myssed yet And he hath me twyes hit And neuer ones with hym I met By god I shall me auyse bet They rode togyder with grete myght In theyr sheldes theyr speres pyght That theyr good speres all to broke Vnto theyr handes with the stroke And than the kynge began to speke Gyue me a spere that wyll not breke For he shall anone be smyten downe Thoughe he be as stronge as was sampsowne And yf he be the deuyll of hell I shall hym soone downe fell The kynge toke a spere styfe and stronke And Degore toke a nother good and longe And stouly to the kynge he smytte The kynge hym fayled and Degore hym it And syr Degore soo hym bete That he made the kynges horse torne vp his fete Boldely he rode vp than And semed a full goodly man The kynge was out of his sadyll caste Wherof his doughter was sore a gaste Thenne was there moche noyse and crye The kynge was sore asshamed for thy We le I wote his doughter was sory Fer thenne she wyste redely That she shulde maryed be To a man of a straunge countree And lede her lyfe with suche one That she wyste neuer fro whens he come The kynge sayd to syr Degore Come heder fayre sone me before And thou were as gentyll a man As thou semest to loke vpan And thou coude wyt and reason doo As thou arte doughty man to I wolde thynke my londe well beset And yf it were fyue tymes the bet For worde spoken I must nedes holde Before my barons that be so bolde I take the my doughter by the honde And sesse the in all my londe To be myn heyre after me In Ioye and blysse for to be ¶ How syr Degore wedded his moder the kȳges doughter of Englonde / and howe shewe knewe that he whas her sone by the gloues GRete ordynaunce was there wrought To the chyrche dore they were brought And were there wedded veramente Vnto the holy sacramente Loke what foly happened there That he sholde wedde his owne modere The whiche had borne hym one her syde And yet he knewe nothynge that tyde He knewe nothynge of her kenne Nor she knewe nothynge of hym And