The Sad Shepherd, or A Tale of Robin Hood · chunk 2 of 19
Jonson, Ben · published 1641 · first performed or written 1637 [c.1612-1637] (Annals) not in BritDrama unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
In his whole life, had with his winged skill Advanced him upmost on the Muse's hill. When he like Poet yet remains, as those Are Painters who can only make a Rose. From such your wits redeem you, or your chance, Jest to a greater height you do advance Of Folly, to contemn those that are known Artificers, and trust such as are none. HEre! she was want to go! and here! and here! Just where those Daisies, Pinks, and Violets grow: The world may found the Spring by following her; For other print her airy steps near left: Her treading would not bend a blade of grass! Or shake the downy Blow-ball from his stalk! But like the soft West-wind, she shot along, And where she went, the Flowers took thickest root, As she had sowed 'em with her odorous foot. Know you, or can you guess, my merry men, What 'tis that keeps your Master Robin-hood So long both from his Marian, and the Wood? Forsooth, Madam, he will be here by noon, And prays it of your bounty as a boon, That you by than have killed him Venison some, To feast his jolly friends, who hither come In threaves to frolic with him, and make cheer; Here's Little Iohn hath harboured you a Deer, I see by his tackling. And a Hart of ten, I trow he be, Madam, or blame your men: For by his Slot, his Entries, and his Port, His Fraying, Fewmets, he doth promise' sport, And standing 'fore the Dogs; he bears a head, Large, and well beamed: with all rights sommed, and spread. Let's rouse him quickly, and lay on the Hounds. Scathlock is ready with them on the grounds; So is his brother Scarlet: now they'ave found His Layre, they have him sure within the pound. Away than, when my Robin bids a Feast, 'Twere sin in Marian to defraud a Guest. And I, the Chaplain, here am left to be Steward to day, and charge you all in fee, To don your Liveries; see the Bowerdrest; And fit the fine devises for the Feast: You George must care to make the Baldric trim, And Garland that must crown, or her, or him; Whose Flock this year, hath brought the earliest Lamb! Good Father Tuck, at your Commands I am To cut the Table out O the green sword, Or any other service for my Lord; To carve the Guests large seats; and these laid in With turf (as soft and smooth as the Moles skin:) And hung the bulled Nose-gaies 'bove their heads, The Pipers bank, whereon to sit and play; And a fair Dial to meet out the day. Our Master's Feast shall want no just delights: His entertainments must have all the rites. I, and all choice that plenty can sand in; Bread, Wine, Acates, Fowle, Feather, Fish, or Fin, For which my Father's Nets have swept the Trent.
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)
In his whole life, had with his winged skill Advanc'd him upmoſt on the Muſes hill. When he like Poet yet remaines, as thoſe Are Painters who can only make a Roſe. From ſuch your wits redeeme you, or your chance, Leſt to a greater height you doe advance Of Folly, to contemne thoſe that are knowne Artificers, and truſt ſuch as are none. HEre! ſhe was wont to goe! and here! and here! Juſt where thoſe Daiſies, Pincks, and Violets grow: The world may find the Spring by following her; For other print her aerie ſteps neere left: Her treading would not bend a blade of graſſe! Or ſhake the downie Blow-ball from his ſtalke! But like the ſoft Weſt-wind, ſhe ſhot along, And where ſhe went, the Flowers tooke thickeſt root, As ſhe had ſow'd 'hem with her odorous foot. Know you, or can you gueſſe, my merry men, What 'tis that keepes your Maſter Robin-hood So long both from his Marian, and the Wood? Forſooth, Madam, hee will be here by noone, And prayes it of your bounty as a boone, That you by then have kild him Veniſon ſome, To feaſt his jolly friends, who hether come In threaves to frolick with him, and make cheare; Here's Little Iohn hath harbord you a Deere, I ſee by his tackling. And a Hart of ten, I trow hee be, Madam, or blame your men: For by his Slot, his Entries, and his Port, His Frayings, Fewmets, he doth promiſe ſport, And ſtanding 'fore the Dogs; hee beares a head, Large, and well beam'd: with all rights ſomm'd, and ſpred. Let's rowſe him quickly, and lay on the Hounds. Scathlock is ready with them on the grounds; So is his brother Scarlet: now they'ave found His Layre, they have him ſure within the pound. Away then, when my Robin bids a Feaſt, 'Twere ſinne in Marian to defraud a Gueſt. And I, the Chaplaine, here am left to be Steward to day, and charge you all in fee, To d'on your Liveries; ſee the Bowerdreſt; And fit the fine deviſes for the Feaſt: You George muſt care to make the Baldrick trim, And Garland that muſt crowne, or her, or him; Whoſe Flock this yeare, hath brought the earlieſt Lambe! Good Father Tuck, at your Commands I am To cut the Table out O the greene ſword, Or any other ſervice for my Lord; To carve the Gueſts large ſeats; and theſe laid in With turfe (as ſoft and ſmooth as the Moles skin:) And hang the bulled Noſe-gaies 'bove their heads, The Pipers banck, whereon to ſit and play; And a faire Dyall to meete out the day. Our Maſters Feaſt ſhall want no juſt delights: His entertainments muſt have all the rites. I, and all choiſe that plenty can ſend in; Bread, Wine, Acates, Fowle, Feather, Fiſh, or Fin, For which my Fathers Nets have ſwept the Trent.