Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
But tell me lovely Eustas as thou lov'st me, Among the many pleasures we have passed, Which is the rifest in thy memory, To draw thee over to thine ancient friend? What makes Sir Bartram thus inquisitive? Tell me good knight, am I welcome or no? By sweet S. Andrew and may sale I swear, As welcome is my honest Dick to me, As morning's sun, or as the watery moon, In murkiest night, when we the borders track. I tell thee Dick, thy sight hath cleared my thoughts, Of many baneful troubles that there woond. Welcome to sir Bartram as his life: Tell me bonny Dick, hast got a wife? A wife God shield sir Bartram, that were ill To leave my wife and wander thus astray: But time and good advise ere many years, May chance to make my fancy bend that way, What news in Scotland? therefore came I hither: To see your Country, and to chat together. Why man our Countries blithe, our king is well, Our Queen so, so, the Nobles well, and worse And we'll are they that were about the king, But better are the Country Gentlemen. And I may tell thee Eustace, in our lives, We old men never saw so wondrous change: But leave this trattle, and tell me what news, In lovely England with our honest friends? The king, the Court, and all our noble friends Are well, and God in mercy keep them so. The Northern Lords and Ladies hereabouts, That knows I came to see your Queen and Court, Commends them to my honest friend sir Bartram, And many others that I have not seen: Among the rest, the Countess Elinor from Carlisle Where we merry oft have been, Greets well my Lord, and hath directed me, By message this fair lady's face to see. I tell thee Eustace, lest mine old eyes daze, This is our Scottish moon and evenings pride: This is the blemish of your English Bride: Who sails by her, are sure of wind at will. Her face is dangerous, her sight is ill: And yet in sooth sweet Dick, it may be said, The king hath folly, their's virtue in the maid. But knows my friend this portrait, be advised? Is it not Ida the Countess of Arains daughters? So was I told by Elinor of Carlisle, But tell me lovely Bartram, is the maid evil inclined, Misled, or Concubine unto the King or any other Lord? Should I be brief & true, then thus my Dick, All England's grounds yields not a blyther Lass. Nor Europe can art her for her gifts, Of virtue, honour, beauty, and the rest: But our fond king not knowing sin in lust, Makes love by endless means and precious gifts, And men that see it dare not say't my friend, But we may wish that it were otherwise: But I rid thee to view the picture still, For by the persons sights there hangs some ill.
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)
But tell me louely Eustas as thou lou'st me, Among the many pleasures we haue past, Which is the rifest in thy memorie, To draw thee ouer to thine auncient friend? What makes Sir Bartram thus inquisitiue? Tell me good knight, am I welcome or no? By sweet S. Andrew and may sale I sweare, As welcom is my honest Dick to me, As mornings sun, or as the watry moone, In merkist night, when we the borders track. I tell thee Dick, thy sight hath cleerd my thoughts, Of many banefull troubles that there woond. Welcome to sir Bartram as his life: Tell me bonny Dicke, hast got a wife? A wife God shield sir Bartram, that were ill To leaue my wife and wander thus astray: But time and good aduise ere many yeares, May chance to make my fancie bend that way, What newes in Scotland? therefore came I hither: To see your Country, and to chat togither. Why man our Countries blyth, our king is well, Our Queene so, so, the Nobles well, and worse And weele are they that were about the king, But better are the Country Gentlemen. And I may tell thee Eustace, in our liues, We old men neuer saw so wondrous change: But leaue this trattle, and tell me what newes, In louely England with our honest friends? The king, the Court, and all our noble frends Are well, and God in mercy keepe them so. The Northren Lords and Ladies here abouts, That knowes I came to see your Queen and Court, Commends them to my honest friend sir Bartram, And many others that I haue not seene: Among the rest, the Countesse Elinor from Carlile Where we merry oft haue bene, Greets well my Lord, and hath directed me, By message this faire Ladies face to see. I tell thee Eustace, lest mine old eyes daze, This is our Scottish moone and euenings pride: This is the blemish of your English Bride: Who sailes by her, are sure of winde at will. Her face is dangerous, her sight is ill: And yet in sooth sweet Dicke, it may be said, The king hath folly, their's vertue in the mayd. But knows my friend this portrait, be aduisd? Is it not Ida the Countesse of Arains daughters? So was I told by Elinor of Carlile, But tell me louely Bartram, is the maid euil inclind, Misled, or Concubine vnto the King or any other Lord? Shuld I be brief & true, thē thus my Dicke, All Englands grounds yeelds not a blyther Lasse. Nor Europ can art her for her gifts, Of vertue, honour, beautie, and the rest: But our fōd king not knowing sin in lust, Makes loue by endlesse meanes and precious gifts, And men that see it dare not sayt my friend, But wee may wish that it were otherwise: But I rid thee to view the picture still, For by the persons sights there hangs som ill.