Greene, Robert · published 1594 · first performed or written 1589 [1586-1590] (Annals) comedy · Queen Elizabeth's Men unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 473 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
WHY looks my lord like to a troubled sky, When heavens bright shine, is shadowed with a fog: A late we ran the dear and through the Lawns Stripped with our nags the lofty frolic bucks, That scudded fore the teasers like the wind, Near was the Dear of merry Fresingfield, So lustily pulled down by jolly mates, Nor shared the Farmers such fat venison, So frankly dealt this hundred years before: Nor have I seen my lord more frolic in the chase, And now changed to a melancholy dump. After the Prince got to the keepers lodge And had been jocund in the house a while: Tossing of ale and milk in country cans, Whether it was the country's sweet content: Or else the bonny damsel filled us drink That seemed so stately in her stammel red: Or that a qualm did cross his stomach then, But strait he fell into his passions. Sirrah Ralph, what say you to your master, Shall he thus all amort live malcontent. Heerest thou Ned, nay look if he will speak to me. What sayest thou to me fool? I pray thee tell me Ned, art thou in love with the keeper's daughter? How if I be, what then? Why then sirrah I'll teach thee how to deceive love. How Ralph. Marry sirrah Ned, thou shalt put on my cap, and my coat, and my dagger, and I will put on thy clothes, and thy sword, and so thou shalt be my fool. And what of this? Why so thou shalt beguile Love, for Love is such a proud scab, that he will never meddle with fools nor children, Is not Ralph's counsel good Ned. Tell me Ned Lacie, didst thou mark the maid, How lively in her country weeds she looked: A bonnier wench all Suffolk cannot yield, All Suffolk, nay all England holds none such. Sirrah, Will Ermsby, Ned is deceived. Why Ralph? He says all England hath no such, and I say, and I'll stand to it, there is one better in Warwickshire. How proovest thou that Ralph? Why is not the Abbot a learned man, and hath red many books, and thinkest thou he hath not more learning than thou to choose a bonny wench, yes I warrant thee by his whole grammar. A good reason Ralph. I tell the Lacie, that hersparkling eyes, Do lighten forth sweet loves alluring fire: And in her tresses she doth fold the looks Of such as gaze upon her golden hair, Her bashful white mixed with the morning's red, Luna doth boast upon her lovely cheeks, Her front is beauty's table where she paints, The glories of her gorgeous excellence: Her teeth are shelves of precious Margarites, Richly enclosed with ruddy coral cleves. Tush Lacie, she is beauty's overmatch, If thou survey'st her curious imagery.
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)
WHY lookes my lord like to a troubled skie, When heauens bright ſhine, is ſhadowed with a fogge: A late we ran the deere and through the Lawndes Stript with our nagges the loftie frolicke bucks, That ſcudded fore the teiſers like the wind, Nere was the Deere of merry Freſingfield, So luſtily puld down by iolly mates, Nor ſharde the Farmers ſuch fat veniſon, So franckly dealt this hundred yeares before: Nor haue I ſeene my lord more frolicke in the chace, And now changde to a melancholie dumpe. After the Prince got to the keepers lodge And had been iocand in the houſe a while: Toſsing of ale and milke in countrie cannes, Whether it was the countries ſweete content: Or els the bonny damſell fild vs drinke That ſeemd ſo ſtately in her ſtammell red: Or that a qualme did croſſe his ſtomacke then, But ſtraight he fell into his paſsions. Sirra Raphe, what ſay you to your maiſter, Shall he thus all amort liue malecontent. Heereſt thou Ned, nay looke if hee will ſpeake to me. What ſayſt thou to me foole? I pree thee tell me Ned, art thou in loue with the keepers daughter? How if I be, what then? Why then ſirha Ile teach thee how to deceiue loue. How Raphe. Marrie ſirha Ned, thou ſhalt put on my cap, and my coat, and my dagger, and I will put on thy clothes, and thy ſword, and ſo thou ſhalt be my foole. And what of this? Why ſo thou ſhalt beguile Loue, for Loue is ſuch a proud ſcab, that he will neuer meddle with fooles nor children, Is not Raphes counſell good Ned. Tell me Ned Lacie, didſt thou marke the mayd, How liuely in her country weedes ſhe lookt: A bonier wench all Suffolke cannot yeeld, All Suffolke, nay all England holds none ſuch. Sirha, Will Ermsby, Ned is deceiued. Why Raphe? He ſaies all England hath no ſuch, and I ſay, and Ile ſtand to it, there is one better in Warwickſhire. How prooueſt thou that Raphe? Why is not the Abbot a learned man, and hath red many bookes, and thinkeſt thou he hath not more learning than thou to chooſe a bonny wench, yes I warrant thee by his whole grammer. A good reaſon Raphe. I tell the Lacie, that herſparkling eyes, Doe lighten forth ſweet Loues alluring fire: And in her treſſes ſhe doth fold the lookes Of ſuch as gaze vpon her golden haire, Her bſhfull white mixt with the mornings red, Luna doth boaſt vpon her louely cheekes, Her front is beauties table where ſhe paints, The gloes of her gorgious excellence: Her teeth are ſhelues of pretious Margarites, Richly encloſed with rudde curroll cleues. Tuſh Lacie, ſhe is beauties ouermatch, If thou ſuruaiſt her curious imagerie.