Greene, Robert · published 1594 · first performed or written 1591 (Annals) romance · Queen Elizabeth's Men (on tour); Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men (in London) · before the Court unassigned nearest T21 Cupid, Venus and the nymphs · 478 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T21: cupid, venus, love, ceres, diana, fair, nymphs, goddess, bow, damon.
Woods, trees, leaves; leaves, trees, woods: tria sequuntur tria. Ho Minerva, salve, God morrow how do you today? Tell me sweet Goddess, will Ioue send Mercury to Calipso to let me go. Will he? why then he's a Gentleman every hair a the head on him. But ho Orgalio, where art thou boy? Here my Lord, did you call me? No, nor name thee. Then God be with you. Nay pree good Orgalio stay, Canst thou not tell me what to say? No by my troth. O this it is, Angelica is dead. Why then she shall be buried. But my Angelica is dead. Why it may be so. But she's dead and buried. ay, I think so. Nothing but I think so, and it may be so. What do ye mean my Lord? Why shall I tell you that my Love is dead, and can ye not weep for her. Yes yes my Lord I will. Well do so then. Orgalio. My Lord. Angelica is dead. Ah, poor slave, so, cry no more now. Nay I have quickly done. Orgalio. My Lord. Medor's Angelica is dead. Why do ye beat me my Lord? Why slave, wilt thou weep for Medor's Anlica, thou must laugh for her. Laugh? yes, I'll laugh all day and you will. Orgalio. My Lord. Medor's Angelica is dead. Ha ha ha ha. So, 'tis well now. Nay this is easier than the other was. Now away, seek the herb Moly, for I must to hell, to seek for Medor and Angelica. I know not the herb Moly i'faith. Come I'll lead ye to it by the ears. 'tis here my Lord, 'tis here. 'tis indeed, now to Charon, bid him dress his boat, for he had never such a passenger. Shall I tell him your name? No, than he will be afraid, & not be at home. Sirrah Rafe, and thou'lt go with me I'll let thee see the bravest mad man that ever thou sawst. Sirrah Tom: I believe 'twas he that was at our town a sunday, I'll tell thee what he did sirrah: he came to our house, when all our folks were gone to Church, and there was nobody at home but I, & I was turning of the spit, and he comes in, & bade me fetch him some drink. Now I went and fetched him some, & ere I came again, by my troth he ran away with the roast-meat spit and all, & so we had nothing but porridge to dinner. By my troth that was brave, but sirrah he did so course the boys last sunday: and if ye call him madman, he'll run after you, & tickle your ribs so with his flap of leather that he hath as it passeth. Oh Tom look where he is, call him madman. Madman, madman. Madman, madman.
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)
Woods, trees, leaues; leaues, trees, woods: tria sequuntur tria. Ho Minerua, salve, God morrow how doo you to day? Tell me sweet Goddesse, will Ioue send Mercury to Calipso to let mee goe. Will he? why then hees a Gentleman eueriehaire a the head on him. But ho Orgalio, where art thou boy? Here my Lord, did you call mee? No, nor name thee. Then God be with you. Nay pree thee good Orgalio stay, Canst thou not tell me what to say? No by my troth. O this it is, Angelica is dead. Why then she shall be buried. But my Angelica is dead. Why it may be so. But shees dead and buried. I, I thinke so. Nothing but I thinke so, and it may be so. What doo ye meane my Lord? Why shall I tell you that my Loue is dead, and can ye not weep for her. Yes yes my Lord I will. Well doo so then. Orgalio. My Lord. Angelica is dead. Ah, poore slaue, so, crie no more now. Nay I haue quickly done. Orgalio. My Lord. Medors Angelica is dead. Why doo ye beat me my Lord? Why slaue, wilt thou weep for Medors Anlica, thou must laugh for her. Laugh? yes, Ile laugh all day and you will. Orgalio. My Lord. Medors Angelica is dead. Ha ha ha ha. So, tis well now. Nay this is easier than the other was. Now away, seek the hearb Moly, for I must to hell, to seeke for Medor and Angelica. I know not the hearb Moly ifaith. Come Ile lead ye to it by the eares. Tis here my Lord, tis here. Tis indeed, now to Charon, bid him dresse his boat, for he had neuer such a passenger. Shall I tell him your name? No, then he will be afraid, & not be at home. Sirra Rafe, and thoult goe with me Ile let thee see the brauest mad man that euer thou sawst. Sirra Tom: I beleeue twas he that was at our towne a sunday, Ile tell thee what he did sirra: he came to our house, when all our folkes were gone to Church, and there was no bodie at home but I, & I was turning of the spit, and he comes in, & bad me fetch him some drinke. Now I went and fetcht him some, & ere I came againe, by my troth he ran away with the rost-meate spit and all, & so we had nothing but porredge to dinner. By my troth that was braue, but sirrha he did so course the boyes last sunday: and if ye call him mad-man, heel run after you, & tickle your ribs so with his flap of leather that he hath as it passeth. Oh Tom looke where he is, call him mad-man. Mad-man, mad-man. Mad-man, mad-man.