Greene, Robert · published 1630 · first performed or written 1589 [1586-1590] (Annals) comedy · Queen Elizabeth's Men unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 473 words · other edition — not in the analysis
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: O'late we ran the deer and through the lands Stripped with our Nags the lofty frolic Bucks, That scudded fore the teasers like the wind, ne'er was the deer of merry Fressingfield, 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 keeper's 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 straight he fell into his passions. Sirrah Raphe, what say you to your master, Shall he thus all amort live malcontent? Hearest thou Ned? nay look if he will speak to me. What sayst 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 Raphe. 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 Raphe? He says all England hath no such, and I say, and I'll stand to it, there is one better in Warwickshire. How provest thou that Raphe? Why is the Abbot a learned man, and hath he read many books, and thinkest thou he hath not more learning than thou to choose a bonny wench, yes warrant I thee by his whole Grammar. A good reason Raphe. I tell thee Lacie, that her sparkling eyes Do lighten forth sweet love's alluring fire: And in her tresses she doth fold the looks Of such a 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's 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 beauties 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)
VVHY lookes my Lord like to a troubled skie, When heauens bright ſhine, is ſhadowed with a fog: Alate we ran the Deere and through the Iawnds Stript with our Nagges the lofty frolicke Bucks, That ſcudded fore the teiſers like the wind, Nere was the Deere of merry Freſingfield, So luſtily pull'd downe by iolly mates, Nor ſharde the Farmers ſuch fat venizon, So frankly dealt this hundred yeeres before: Nor haue I ſeene my Lord more frolicke in the chace, And now chang'd to a melancholy dumpe. After the Prince got to the Keepers lodge And had bin incond in the houſe a while: Toſſing of Ale and milke in countrie cannes, Whether it was the Countries ſweet content, Or elſe the bonny Damſell fil'd vs drinke That ſeem'd 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 maſter, Shall he thus all amort liue malecontent? Heareſt thou Ned? nay looke if he will ſpeake to me. What ſaiſt 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 ſirra, Ile teach thee how to deceiue Loue. How Raphe. Marry ſirra Ned, thou ſhalt put on my cap, and my coat, and my dagger, and I will put on thy cloaths, 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 look't? A bonier wench all Suffolke cannot yeeld, All Suffolke, nay all England holds none ſuch. Sirra, Will Ermsby, Ned is deceiued. Why Raphe? He ſayes all England hath no ſuch, and I ſay, and Ile ſtand to it, there is one better in Warwickeſhire. How proueſt thou that Raphe? Why is the Abbot a learned man, and hath he read many bookes, and thinkeſt thou he hath not more learning then thou to chooſe a bonny wench, yes warrant I thee by his whole Grammar. A good reaſon Raphe. I tell thee Lacie, that her ſparkling eyes Doe lighten forth ſweet Loues alluring fire: And in her treſſes ſhe doth fold the lookes Of ſuch a gaze vpon her golden haire, Her baſhfull white mixt with the mornings red, Luna doth boaſt vpon her louely cheekes, Her front is beauties table wherr ſhe paints The glories of her gorgious excellence: Her teeth are ſhelues of precious Margarites, Richly encloſed with ruddie curroll cleues. Tuſh Lacie, ſhe is beauties ouermatch, If thou ſuruaiſt her curious imagerie.