Rowley, William · published 1638 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1609] (Annals) romance · Prince Charles's Men (first) · Red Bull unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
Ha? my Daughter? Say, where is she? O my sweet Lambkin's found, And come to Court too. Where? who found her? A pretty handsome stripling by my holidame; Her own Shoemaker belike, poor duckling: She was wandering, and he met with her; And belike she had worn out her shoes, and he fitted her finely: So drew on her shoes first, and drew her to Court after; And he and all the Company of the Gentle Craft Sir, Brings her home most sumptuously. With Music's sweetest strains conduct 'em in, Our sorrows wither, as our joys begin. Life cannot be more welcome; which is he Doubles my joys in my Leodice? This is the youth that doubles 'em: O my sweet Honey-suckle, have I found thee again? I'll treble his rewards for finding her: And to be sure my Daughter, not to lose thee more, Great Emperor see To do all honour unto this Prince, and thee, I give my only daughter for his wife. His wife my Lord? By my Daughter: Though a stranger to thee, he's a Prince borne, Son to a King, and well deserves thy love. Here's one deserves it more, he saved my life When I was almost dead with grief; These can witness it. 'Tis very true Sir; when she was the lost sheep, He was the Shepherd that found her; When she was a cold, he covered her; Nay more, when she was hungry, he filled her belly: Here's one, if it could speak, would be a witness to that. And by the Proclamation, yourself are bound To let this young man marry me: I'll swear I'll wed with none, except this Shoemaker. Sure her sudden fright hath made her mad: Was she not frantic when thou foundst her first? Nay, she's mad still; how dare you stand this scorn? This is a Prince, that but a beggar borne. A Beggar? look on this Babe: 'Tis his own; 'tis Princely borne, And a shoemaker's son. Fond Girl. Good Father hear, You know not what brave men these shoemakers are. 'Tis known we can get Children Sir. How am I vexed with fools and mad men! I do beseech you Sir, my Royal Father, Take this lovely Child to kiss, and bless it. Defend me Iupiter, she's mad, Stark mad. Why does the fair Leodice So vex her Kingly Father With so base a brat? 'Zounds base? Peace knave, peace: What wilt thou do? Base Brat? Alas, had the poor fool a tongue or power to speak, he'd swear you did him wrong: By all our gods it is as nobly borne As the proudest here. Strange frenzy, Why does my Daughter so dishonour me? I take but this poor Child's part, and so should you: For look you Father, this base Brats Mother Lay in my Mother's belly; were she alive, She would acknowledge it, and comfort give, And it shall call you grandsire if it live. Here's strange and dark enigmas, Speak plain, whose Child is't? This shoemakers.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Ha? my Daughter? Say, where is she? O my sweet Lambkin's found, And come to Court too. Where? who found her? A pretty handsome stripling by my Holydame; Her owne Shoomaker belike, poore duckling: Shee was wandring, and he met with her; And belike shee had worne out her shooes, and he fitted her finely: So drew on her shooes first, and drew her to Court after; And he and all the Company of the Gentle Craft Sir, Brings her home most sumptuously. With usicks sweetest straines conduct 'em in, Our sorrows wither, as our joyes begin. Life cannot be more welcome; which is he Doubles my joyes in my Leodice? This is the youth that doubles 'em: O my sweet Honey-uckle, have I found thee agen? Ile treble his rewards for finding her: And to be sure my Daughter, not to loose thee more, Great Emperour see To doe all honour unto this Prince, and thee, I give my onely daughter for his wife. His wife my Lord? By my Daughter: Though a stranger to thee, hee's a Prince borne, Sonne to a King, and well deserves thy love. Here's one deserves it more, he sav'd my life When I was almost dead with griefe; These can witnesse it. 'Tis very true Sir; when shee was the lost sheepe, He was the Shepheard that found her; When shee was a cold, he cover'd her; Nay more, when shee was hungry, he fill'd her belly: Here's one, if it could speake, would be a witnesse to that. And by the Proclamation, your selfe are bound To let this young man marry me: Ile sweare Ile wed with none, except this Shoomaker. Sure her sudden fright hath made her mad: Was she not frantick when thou foundst her first? Nay, shee's mad still; how dare you stand this scorne? This is a Prince, that but a begger borne. A Beggar? looke on this Babe: 'Tis his owne; 'tis Princely borne, And a Shoomakers sonne. Fond Girle. Good Father heare, You know not what brave men these shoomakers are. 'Tis knowne we can get Children Sir. How am I vext with fooles and mad men! I doe beseech you Sir, my Royall Father, Take this lovely Child to kisse, and blesse it. Defend me Iupiter, shee's mad, Starke mad. Why does the faire Leodice So vexe her Kingly Father With so base a brat? Zoonds base? Peace knave, peace: What wilt thou doe? Base Brat? Alas, had the poore foole a tongue or power to speake, Hee'd sweare you did him wrong: By all our gods it is as nobly borne As the proudest here. Strange frenzy, Why does my Daughter so dishonour me? I take but this poore Childs part, and so should you: For looke you Father, this base Brats Mother Lay in my Mothers belly; were shee alive, Shee would acknowledge it, and comfort give, And it shall call you Grandsir if it live. Here's strange and darke Enigmaes, Speake plaine, whose Child is't? This shoomakers.