2 The Troublesome Reign of King John · chunk 14 of 19
Anonymous · published 1611 · first performed or written 1591 (Annals) history · Queen Elizabeth's Men T15 Friars and holy orders in plot typicality 0.70 · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T15: friar, lord, holy, friars, robin, peggy, lacie, angelo, love, nun.
With sable curtains of the blackest hue, And fenced us from the fury of the French, As Io from the jealous Iunoes eye, When in the morning our troops did gather head, Passing the washes with our carriages, The impartial tide deadly and inexorable, Came raging in with billows threatening death, And swallowed up the most of all our men, Myself upon a Galloway right free, well paced, Out stripped the floods that followed wave by wave, I so escaped to tell this tragic tale. Grief upon grief, yet none so great a grief To end this life, and thereby rid my grief. Was ever any so infortunate, The right Idea of a cursed man, As I, poor I, a triumph for despite, My fever grows, what ague shakes me so? How far to Swinstead, tell me, do you know? Present unto the Abbot word of my repair. My sickness rages, to tyrannize upon me, I cannot live unless this fever leave me. Good cheer my Lord, the Abbey is at hand, Behold my Lord, the Churchmen come to meet you. All health & happiness to our sovereign lord the King. Nor health nor happiness hath Iohn at all. Say Abbot, am I welcome to thy house? Such welcome as our Abbey can afford, Your Majesty shall be assured of. The King thou seest is weak and very faint, What victuals hast thou to refresh his Grace? Good stote my Lord, of that you need not fear, For Lincolnshire, and these our Abbey grounds Were never fatter, nor in better plight. Philip, thou never needst to doubt of cates, Nor King nor Lord is seated half so well, As are the Abbeys throughout all the land, If any plot of ground do pass another, The Friars fasten on it straight: But let us in to taste of their repast, It goes against my heart to feed with them, Or be beholding to such Abbey grooms: Is this the King that never loved a Friar? Is this the man that doth contemn the Pope? Is this the man that robbed the holy Church, And yet will fly unto a Friory? Is this the King that aims at Abbeys lands? Is this the man whom all the world abhors, And yet will fly unto a Friary? accursed be Swinstead Abbey, Abbot, Friars, Monks, Nuns, and Clarks, and all that dwells therein, If wicked Iohn escape alive away. Now if that thou wilt look to merit heaven, And be canonised for a holy Saint: To please the world with a deserving work, Be thou the man to set thy country free, And murder him that seeks to murder thee. Why are not you within to cheer the King? He now begins to mend, and will to meat. What if I say to strangle him in his sleep? What, at thy Mumpsimus? away, And seek some means for to pastime the King.
seed 43: T19 · seed 44: T20 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
With ſable curtaines of the blackeſt hue, And fenc'd vs from the furie of the French, As Io from the iealous Iunoes eie, When in the morning our troupes did gather head, Paſſing the waſhes with our carriages, The impartiall tide deadly and inexorable, Came raging in with billowes threatning death, And ſwallowed vp the moſt of all our men, My ſelfe vpon a Galloway right free, well pac'd, Out ſtript the flouds that followed waue by waue, I ſo eſcap'd to tell this tragicke tale. Griefe vpon griefe, yet none ſo great a griefe To end this life, and thereby rid my griefe. Was euer any ſo infortunate, The right Idea of a curſed man, As I, poore I, a triumph for deſpight, My feuer growes, what ague ſhakes me ſo? How farre to Sminstead, tell me, do you know? Preſent vnto the Abbot word of my repaire. My ſickneſſe rages, to tyrannize vpon me, I cannot liue vnleſſe this feuer leaue me. Good cheere my Lord, the Abbey is at hand, Behold my Lord, the Churchmen come to meet you. All health & happines to our ſoueraigne lord the King. Nor health nor happines hath Iohn at all. Say Abbot, am I welcome to thy houſe? Such welcome as our Abbey can afford, Your Maieſtie ſhall be aſſured of. The King thou ſeeſt is weake and very faint, What victuals haſt thou to refreſh his Grace? Good ſtote my Lord, of that you need not feare, For Lincolneſhire, and theſe our Abbey grounds Were neuer fatter, nor in better plight. Philip, thou neuer needſt to doubt of cates, Nor King nor Lord is ſeated halfe ſo well, As are the Abbeis throughout all the land, If any plot of ground do paſſe another, The Friers faſten on it ſtrait: But let vs in to taſte of their repaſt, It goes againſt my heart to feed with them, Or be beholding to ſuch Abbey groomes: Is this the King that neuer lou'd a Frier? Is this the man that doth contemne the Pope? Is this the man that rob'd the holy Church, And yet will flie vnto a Friory? Is this the King that aymes at Abbeis lands? Is this the man whom all the world abhorres, And yet will flie vnto a Friorie? Accurſt be Swinstead Abbey, Abbot, Friers, Monkes, Nunnes, and Clarks, and all that dwells therein, If wicked Iohn eſcape aliue away. Now if that thou wilt looke to merit heauen, And be canonized for a holy Saint: To pleaſe the world with a deſeruing worke, Be thou the man to ſet thy countrey free, And murder him that ſeekes to murder thee. Why are not you within to cheere the King? He now begins to mend, and will to meate. What if I ſay to ſtrangle him in his ſleepe? What, at thy Mumpſimus? away, And ſeeke ſome meanes for to paſtime the King.