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 0.67 · 461 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.
Whence, Peggie, comes this Metamorphosis? What, shorn a Nun, and I have from the Court Posted with coursers to convey thee hence, To Windsor, where our marriage shall be kept? Thy wedding robes are in the tailor's hands. Come, Peggie, leave these peremptory vows. Did not my Lord resign his interest, And make divorce 'twixt Marg'ret and him? 'Twas but to try sweet Peggy's constancy: But will fair Marg'ret leave her love and Lord? Is not heaven's joy before earth's fading bliss? And life above sweeter than life in love? Why then, Marg'ret will be shorn a Nun. Marg'ret hath made a vow, which may not be revoked. We cannot stay, my Lord, and if she be so strict, Our leisure grants us not to woo afresh. Choose you, fair Damsel, yet the choice is yours, Either a solemn Nunnery, or the Court, God, or Lord Lacy, which contents you best, To be a Nun, or else Lord Lacy's wife? A good motion. Peggie, your answer must be short. The flesh is frail, my Lord doth know it well, That when he comes with his enchanting face, whatsoe'er betide, I cannot say him nay. Off goes the habit of a maiden's heart, And seeing fortune will, fair Framingham, And all the show of holy Nuns, farewell, Lacy for me, if he will be my Lord. Peggie, thy Lord, thy love, thy husband, Trust me, by truth of Knighthood, that the King Stays for to marry matchless Eleanor, Until I bring thee richly to the Court, That one day may both marry her and thee. How sayst thou Keeper, art thou glad of this? As if the English King had given The Park and deer of Fressingfield to me. I pray thee my Lord of Sussex, why art thou in a brown study? To see the nature of women, that be they never so near God, yet they love to die in a man's arms. What have you fit for breakfast? we have hied and posted all this night to Fressingfield. Butter and cheese, and humbles of a deer, Such as poor Keepers have within their Lodge. And not a bottle of wine? we'll find one for my Lord. Come, Sussex, let's in, we shall have more, for she speaks least, to hold her promise sure. How restless are the ghosts of hellish sprites, When every Charmer with his Magic spells Calls us from ninefold trenched Phlegethon, To scud and overscour the earth in post, Upon the speedy wings of swiftest winds? Now Bacon hath raised me from the darkest deep, To search about the world for Miles his man, For Miles, and to torment his lazy bones, For careless watching of his brazenhead. See where he comes: Oh he is mine.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1694–1747 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 31 of 33 in this edition
Length
461 words · 634 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T15 — Friars and holy orders in plotcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.670 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T19 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Whence, Peggie, comes this Metamorphoſis? What, ſhorne a Nunne, and I haue from the Court Poaſted with courſers to conuay thee hence, To Windſore, where our marriage ſhall be kept? Thy wedding robes are in the Taylors hands. Come, Peggie, leaue theſe peremptory vowes. Did not my Lord reſigne his intereſt, And make diuorce twixt Margret and him? 'Twas but to trye ſweet Peggies conſtancy: But will faire Margret leaue her loue and Lord? Is not heauens ioy before earths fading bliſſe? And life aboue ſweeter then life in loue? Why then, Margret will be ſhorne a Nun. Margret hath made a vow, which may not be reuokt. We cannot ſtay, my Lord, and if ſhe be ſo ſtrict, Our leiſure graunts vs not to woo afreſh. Chooſe you, faire Damſell, yet the choiſe is yours, Either a ſolemne Nunnery, or the Court, God, or Lord Lacy, which contents you beſt, To be a Nun, or elſe Lord Lacies wife? A good motion. Peggie, your anſwere muſt be ſhort. The fleſh is frayle, my Lord doth know it well, That when he comes with his inchanting face, Whatſoere betide, I cannot ſay him nay. Off goes the habit of a maidens heart, And ſeeing fortune will, faire Fremingham, And all the ſhew of holy Nuns, farewell, Lacy for me, if he will be my Lord. Peggie, thy Lord, thy loue, thy husband, Truſt me, by truth of Knighthood, that the King Stayes for to marry matchleſſe Ellinor, Vntill I bring thee richly to the Court, That one day may both marry her and thee. How ſaiſt thou Keeper, art thou glad of this? As if the Engliſh King had giuen The Parke and Deere of Freſingfield to me. I pray thee my Lord of Suſſex, why art thou in a browne ſtudy? To ſee the nature of women, that be they neuer ſo neere God, yet they loue to dye in a mans armes. What haue you fit for breakefaſt? we haue hied and poaſted all this night to Freſingfield. Butter and cheeſe, and humbles of a Deere, Such as poore Keepers haue within their Lodge. And not a bottle of wine? Weele find one for my Lord. Come, Suſſex, let's in, wee ſhall haue more, for ſhee ſpeakes leaſt, to hold her promiſe ſure. How reſtleſſe are the ghoſts of helliſh ſprites, When euery Charmer with his Magicke ſpels Cals vs from nine-fold trenched Phlegiton, To ſcud and ouer-ſcoure the earth in poaſt, Vpon the ſpeedy wings of ſwifteſt winds? Now Bacon hath raiſd me from the darkeſt deepe, To ſearch about the world for Miles his man, For Miles, and to torment his lazy bones, For careleſſe watching of his brazen-head. See where he comes: Oh he is mine.