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 · 497 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.
Some fiend or ghost haunt on thy weary steps, Until they do transport thee quick to hell: For Bacon shall have never merry day, To lose the fame and honour of his Head. Now lovely Prince, the Prince of Albion's wealth, How fares the Lady Eleanor and you? What, have you courted and found Castile fit, To answer England in equivalence? Wilt be a match 'twixt bonny Nell and thee? Should Paris enter in the courts of Greece, And not lie fettered in fair Helen's looks? Or Phoebus scape those piercing amorets, That Daphne glanced at his deity? Can Edward then sit by a flame and freeze, Whose heat puts Helen and fair Daphne down? Now monarchs, ask the Lady if we 'gree What, Madam, hath my son found grace or no? Seeing my Lord his lovely counterfeit, And hearing how his mind and shape agreed, I come not, trooped with all this warlike train, Doubting of love, but so affectionate, As Edward hath in England what he won in Spain. A match, my Lord, these wantons needs must love: Men must have wives, and women must be wed, Let's haste the day to honour up the rites. Sirrah Harry, shall Ned marry Nell? ay, Raphe, how then? marry Harry, follow my counsel, send for friar Bacon to marry them, for he'll so conjure him and her with his necromancy, that they shall love together like Pig & Lamb whilst they live. But hearst thou, Raphe, art thou content to have Eleanor to thy Lady? ay, so she will promise me two things. What's that, Raphe? That she will never scold with Ned, nor fight with me, Sirrah Harry, I have put her down with a thing unpossible. What's that, Raphe? Why Harry, didst thou ever see that a woman could both hold her tongue and her hands? no: but when egg-pies grow on Appletrees, then will thy grey Mare prove a Bagpiper. What says the Lord of Castille and the Earl of Lincoln, that they are in such earnest and secret talk? I stand, my Lord, amazed at his talk? How he discourseth of the constancy Of one surnamed for beauty's excellence, The fair maid of Fressingfield. 'tis true, my Lord, 'tis wondrous for to hear, Her beauty passing Mars's Paramour: Her virgins right as rich as Vesta's was, Lacy and Ned have told me miracles. What says Lord Lacy? shall she be his wife? Or else Lord Lacy is unfit to live. May it please your Highness give me leave to post To Fressingfield, I'll fetch the bonny girl, And prove in true appearance at the Court, What I have vouched often with my tongue. Lacy, go to the Quiry of my Stable, And take such Coursers as shall fit thy turn, Hie thee to Fressingfield, and bring home the Lass, And, for her fame flies through the English coast, If it may please the Lady Eleanor, One day shall match your Excellence and her.
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)
Some fiend or ghoſt haunt on thy weary ſteps, Vntill they doe tranſport thee quicke to hell: For Bacon ſhall haue neuer merry day, To loſe the ſame and honour of his Head. Now louely Prince, the Prince of Albions wealth, How fares the Lady Ellinor and you? What, haue you courted and found Caſtile fit, To anſwere England in equiuolence? Wilt be a match twixt bonny Nell and thee? Should Paris enter in the courts of Greece, And not lye fettered in faire Hellens lookes? Or Phoebus ſcape thoſe piercing amorits, That Daphne glanced at his deitie? Can Edward then ſit by a flame and freeze, Whoſe heat puts Hellen and faire Daphne downe? Now Monarks, aske the Lady if we gree What, Madam, hath my ſonne found grace or no? Seeing my Lord his louely counterfeit, And hearing how his minde and ſhape agreed, I come not, troopt with all this warlike traine, Doubting of loue, but ſo affectionate, As Edward hath in England what he wonne in Spaine. A match, my Lord, theſe wantons needs muſt loue: Men muſt haue wiues, and women muſt be wed, Let's haſte the day to honour vp the rites. Sirra Harry, ſhall Ned marry Nell? I, Raphe, how then? Mary Harry, follow my counſell, ſend for Fryer Bacon to marry them, for heele ſo coniure him and her with his Nigromancy, that they ſhall loue together like Pigge & Lambe whileſt they liue. But hearſt thou, Raphe, art thou content to haue Ellinor to thy Lady? I, ſo ſhe will promiſe me two things. Whats that, Raphe? That ſhe will neuer ſcold with Ned, nor ſight with me, Sirra Harry, I haue put her downe with a thing vnpoſſible. Whats that, Raphe? Why Harry, didſt thou euer ſee that a woman could both hold her tongue and her hands? no: but when egge-pyes grow on Apple-trees, then will thy gray Mare proue a Bag-piper. What ſayes the Lord of Caſtile and the Earle of Lincolne, that they are in ſuch earneſt and ſecret talke? I ſtand, my Lord, amazed at his talke? How he diſcourſeth of the conſtancy Of one ſurnam'd for beauties excellence, The faire maid of Freſingfield. Tis true, my Lord, tis wondrous for to heare, Her beautie paſſing Marſes Paramour: Her virgins right as rich as Ʋeſtas was, Lacy and Ned haue told me miracles. What ſayes Lord Lacy? ſhall ſhe be his wife? Or elſe Lord Lacy is vnfit to liue. May it pleaſe your Highneſſe giue me leaue to poaſt To Freſingfield, Ile fetch the bonny girle, And proue in true apparance at the Court, What I haue vouched often with my tongue. Lacy, goe to the Quiry of my Stable, And take ſuch Courſers as ſhall fit thy turne, Hie thee to Freſingfield, and bring home the Laſſe, And, for her fame flies through the Engliſh coaſt, If it may pleaſe the Lady Ellinor, One day ſhall match your Excellence and her.