Greene, Robert · published 1630 · first performed or written 1589 [1586-1590] (Annals) comedy · Queen Elizabeth's Men T15 Friars and holy orders in plot typicality 0.84 · 505 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T15: friar, lord, holy, friars, robin, peggy, lacie, angelo, love, nun.
Then handfast hand, and I will to my book. What sees my Lord now? Bacon, I see the lovers hand in hand, The friar ready with his Portace there, To wed them both, then am I quite undone, Bacon, help now, if e'er thy magic served, Bacon, help now, if e'er thy magic served, Help, Bacon, stop the marriage now, If Devils or Necromancy may suffice, And I will give thee forty thousand Crowns. Fear not, my Lord, I'll stop the jolly Friar, For mumbling up his orisons this day. Why speak'st not Bungay? friar, to thy book. How lookest thou, friar, as a man distraught, Reft of thy senses, Bungay? show by signs If thou be dumb, what passion holdeth thee. He's dumb indeed: Bacon hath with his devils Enchanted him, or else some strange disease, Or Apoplexy hath possessed his lungs: But, Peggie, what he cannot with his book, We'll 'twixt us both unite it up in heart. Else let me die (my Lord) a miscreant. Why stands friar Bacon so amazed? I have struck him dumb, my Lord, & if your honour please: I'll fetch this Bungay straightway from Fressingfield, And he shall dine with us is Oxford here. Bacon, do that, and thou contentest me. Of courtesy, Marg'ret, let us lead the Friar Unto thy father's lodge, to comfort him With broths to bring him from this hapless trance. Or else my Lord, we were passing unkind To leave the Friar so in his distress. O help, my Lord, a Devil, a Devil, my Lord, Look how he carries Bungay on his back: Let's hence, for Bacon's spirits be abroad. Bacon, I laugh to see the jolly friar Mounted upon the Devil, and how the Earl Flees with his bonny lass for fear. as soon as Bungay is at Brazen-nose, I will in post hie me to Fressingfield, And 'quite these wrongs on Lacy ere it be long. So be it, my Lord, but let us to our dinner: For ere we have taken our repast awhile, We shall have Bungay brought to Brazen-nose. Now that we are gathered in the Regent house, It fits us talk about the king's repair, For he trooped with all the Western Kings, That lie alongst the Danzig Seas by East, North by the clime of frosty Germany, The Almain Monarch, and the Saxon Duke, Castile, and lovely Eleanor, with him, Have in their jests resolved for Oxford Town. We must lay plots for stately Tragedies, Strange Comic shows, such as proud Roscius Vaunted before the Roman Emperors. To welcome all the Western Potentates, But more the King by letters hath foretold, That Frederick the Almain Emperor, Hath brought with him a German of esteem, Whose surname is Don Iaques Vandermast, Skilful in Magic and those secret arts. Then must we all make suit unto the friar, To Friar Bacon, that he vouch this task, And undertake to countervail in skill The German, else there's none in Oxford can Match and dispute with learned Vandermast.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 657–722 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 13 of 33 in this edition
Length
505 words · 731 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T15 — Friars and holy orders in plotcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.837 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
Then hand-faſt hand, and I will to my booke. What ſees my Lord now? Bacon, I ſee the Louers hand in hand, The Fryer ready with his Portace there, To wed them both, then am I quite vndone, Bacon, helpe now, if ere thy magicke ſeru'd, Bacon, helpe now, if ere thy magicke ſeru'd, Helpe, Bacon, ſtop the marriage now, If Deuils or Nigromancie may ſuffice, And I will giue thee fortie thouſand Crownes. Feare not, my Lord, Ile ſtop the iolly Frier, For mumbling vp his oriſons this day. Why ſpeak'ſt not Bungay? Frier, to thy booke. How lookeſt thou, Frier, as a man diſtraught, Reft of thy ſences, Bungay? ſhew by ſignes If thou be dumbe, what paſſion holdeth thee. He's dumbe indeed: Bacon hath with his Deuils Inchanted him, or elſe ſome ſtrange diſeaſe, Or Apoplexie hath poſſeſt his lungs: But, Peggie, what he cannot with his booke, We'le twixt vs both vnite it vp in heart. Elſe let me die (my Lord) a miſcreant. Why ſtands Frier Bacon ſo amaz'd? I haue ſtruk him dumb, my Lord, & if your honor pleaſe: Ile fetch this Bungay ſtraightway from Freſingfield, And he ſhall dine with vs is Oxford here. Bacon, doe that, and thou contenteſt me. Of courteſie, Margret, let vs lead the Frier Vnto thy fathers lodge, to comfort him With broths to bring him from this hapleſſe trance. Or elſe my Lord, we were paſſing vnkinde To leaue the Frier ſo in his diſtreſſe. O helpe, my Lord, a Deuill, a Deuill, my Lord, Looke how he carries Bungay on his backe: Let's hence, for Bacons ſpirits be abroad. Bacon, I laugh to ſee the iolly Fryer Mounted vpon the Deuill, and how the Earle Flees with his bonny laſſe for feare. Aſſoone as Bungay is at Brazen-noſe, I will in poaſt hie me to Freſingfield, And quite theſe wrongs on Lacy ere it be long. So be it, my Lord, but let vs to our dinner: For ere we haue taken our repaſt awhile, We ſhall haue Bungay brought to Brazen-noſe. Now that we are gathered in the Regent houſe, It ſits vs talke about the long repaire, For he troop't with all the Weſterne Kings, That lye alongſt the Danſick Seas by Eaſt, North by the clime of froſtie Germany, The Almaine Monarke, and the Scocon Duke, Caſtile, and louely Ellinor, with him, Haue in their ieſts reſolued for Oxford Towne. We muſt lay plots for ſtately Tragedies, Strange Comicke ſhowes, ſuch as proud Roſſius Vaunted before the Romane Emperours. To welcome all the Weſterne Potentates, But more the King by letters hath fore-told, That Fredericke the Almaine Emperour, Hath brought with him a Germane of eſteeme, Whoſe ſurname is Don Iaques Ʋandermaſt, Skilfull in Magicke and thoſe ſecret arts. Then muſt we all make ſute vnto the Fryer, To Frier Bacon, that he vouch this taske, And vndertake to counteruaile in skill The Germane, elſe there's none in Oxford can Match and diſpute with learned Ʋandermaſt.