Greene, Robert · published 1594 · first performed or written 1589 [1586-1590] (Annals) comedy · Queen Elizabeth's Men T15 Friars and holy orders in plot typicality 0.71 · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T15: friar, lord, holy, friars, robin, peggy, lacie, angelo, love, nun.
Peggy, I pleaded first to get your grace for him, But when mine eyes furuaid your beauteous looks Love like a wag, strait dived into my heart, And there did shrine the Idea of yourself: Pity me though I be a farmer's son, And measure not my riches but my love. You are very hasty for to garden well, Seeds must have time to sprout before they spring, Love aught to creep as doth the dials shade, For timely ripe is rotten too too soon. Deus hic, room for a merry Friar, What youth of Beckles, with the keeper's lass, 'tis well, but tell me here you any news. No, Friar what news. Hear you not how the pursuivants do post, With proclamations through each country town: For what gentle friar tell the news. Dwellest thou in Beckles & heerst not of these news, Lacie the Earl of Lincoln is late fled From Windsor court disguised like a swain, And lurks about the country here unknown. Henry suspects him of some treachery, And therefore doth proclaim in every way, That who can take the Lincoln earl, shall have Paid in the Exchequer twenty thousand crowns. The earl of Lincoln, Friar thou art mad, It was some other, thou mistakest the man: The earl of Lincoln, why it cannot be. Yes very well my lord, for you are he, The keeper's daughter took you prisoner, Lord Lacie yield, I'll be your jailor once. How familiar they be Bacon. Sat still and mark the sequel of their loves. Then am I double prisoner to thyself, Peggy, I yield, but are these news iniest, In iest with you, but earnest unto me: For why, these wrongs do wring me at the heart, Ah how these earls and noble men of birth, Flatter and feign to forge poor women's ill. Believe me lass, I am the Lincoln earl▪ I not deny, but tired thus in rags I lived disguised to win fair Peggy's love. What love is there where wedding ends not love? I meant fair girl to make thee Lacy's wife. I 〈◊〉 think that earls will stoop so low, Say, shall I make thee countess ere I sleep. Handmaid unto the earl so please himself A wife in name, but servant in obedience. The Lincoln countess, for it shallbe so, I'll plight the bands and seal it with a kiss. Gog's wounds Bacon they kiss, I'll stab them, Oh hold your hands my lord it is the glass. Collar to see the traitors 'gree so well, Made me think the shadows substances. TTwere a long poinard my lord, to reach between Oxford and Fresingfield, but sit still and see more. Well lord of Lincoln, if your loves be knit, And that your tongues and thoughts do both agree: To avoid ensuing jars, I'll hamper up the match, I'll take my portace forth, and wed you here, Then go to bed and seal up your desires. Friar content, Peggy how like you this? What likes my lord is pleasing unto me.
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)
Peggie, I pleaded firſt to get your grace for him, But when mine is furuaid your beautious lookes Loue like a wagge, ſtraight diued into my heart, And there did ſhrine the Idea of your ſelfe: Pittie me though I be a farmers ſonne, And meaſure not my riches but my loue. You are vere haſtie for to garden well, Seeds muſt haue time to ſprout before they ſpring, Loue ought to creepe as doth the dials ſhade, For timely ripe is rotten too too ſoone. Deus hic, roome for a merry Frier, What youth of Beckles, with the keepers laſſe, Tis well, but tell me heere you any newes. No, Frier what newes. Heere you not how the purſeuants do poſt, With proclamations through ech country towne: For what gentle frier tell the newes. Dwelſt thou in Beckles & heerſt not of theſe news, Lacie the Earle of Lincolne is late fled From Windſor court diſguiſed like a ſwaine, And lurkes about the countrie heere vnknowne. Henrie ſuſpects him of ſome trecherie, And therefore doth proclaime in euery way, That who can take the Lincolne earle, ſhall haue Paid in the Exchequer twentie thouſand crownes. The earle of Lincoln, Frier thou art mad, It was ſome other, thou miſtakeſt the man: The earle of Lincolne, why it cannot be. Yes verie well my lord, for you are he, The keepers daughter tooke you priſoner, Lord Lacie yeeld, Ile be your gailor once. How familiar they be Bacon. Sit ſtill and marke the ſequell of their loues. Then am I double priſoner to thy ſelfe, Peggie, I yeeld, but are theſe newes inieſt, In ſt with you, but earneſt vnto me: For why, theſe wrongs do wring me at the heart, Ah how theſe earles and noble men of birth, Flatter and faine to forge poore womens ill. Beleeue me laſſe, I am the Lincolne earle▪ I not denie, but tyred thus in rags I liued diſguiſd to winne faire Peggies loue. What loue is there where wedding ends not loue? I meant faire girle to make thee Lacies wife. I thinke that earles wil ſtoop ſo low, Say, ſhal I make thee counteſſe ere I ſleep. Handmaid vnto the earle ſo pleaſe himſelfe A wife in name, but ſeruant in obedience. The Lincolne counteſſe, for it ſhalbe ſo, Ile plight the bands and ſeale it with a kiſſe. Gogs wounds Bacon they kiſſe, Ile ſtab them, Oh hold your handes my lord it is the glaſſe. Coller to ſee the traitors gree ſo well, Made me thinke the ſhadowes ſubſtances. Twere a long poinard my lord, to reach betweene Oxford and Freſingfield, but it ſtill and ſee more. Well lord of Lincolne, if your loues be knit, And tha your tongues and thoughts do both agree: To auoid inſuing iarres, Ile hamper vp the match, Ile take my portace forth, and wed you heere, Then go to bed and ſeale vp your deſires. Frier content, Peggie how like you this? What likes my lord is pleaſing vnto me.