The Scottish History of James the Fourth · chunk 32 of 40
Greene, Robert · published 1598 · first performed or written c.1590 (Annals) romance · Unknown unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
God bless his grace, and if his cause be just, Prosper his wars: if not he'll mend I trust: Good sir what moves the king to fall to arms? The king of England forageth his land, And hath besieged Dambar with mighty force: What other news are common in the Court, Read you these letters madam tell the squire, The whole affairs of state, for I must hence. God prosper you, and bring you back from thence: madam what news? They say the Queen is slain. Tut, such reports more false than truth contain. but these reports have made his Nobles leave him. Ah careless men, and would they so deceive him? The land is spoiled, the commons fear the cross, All cry against the king, their cause of loss: The English king subdues and conquers all. Ah lass, this war grows great, on causes small. Our Court is desolate, our Prince alone, Still dreading death. Woes me, for him I moan, Help, now help, a sudden qualm. Assails my heart. Good madam stand her friend, Give us some liquor to refresh her heart. Daw. her up, and I will fetch thee forth Potions of comfort to repress her pain. Fie Princess, faint on every fond report, How well nigh had you opened your estate: Cover these sorrows with the vail of joy, And hope the best, for why this war will cause, A great repentance in your husband's mind. Ah Nano, trees live not without their sap, And Clitia cannot blush but on the sun, The thirsty earth is broke with many a gap, And lands are lean, where rivers do not run, Where soul is reft from that it loveth best, How can it thrive or boast of quiet rest? Thou knowest the PRINCE's loss must be my death, His grief, my grief: his mischief must be mine: Oh if thou love me, Nano high to court, Tell Rosse, tell Bartram that I am alive, Conceal thou yet, the place of my abode, Will them even as they love their Queen, As they are chary of my soul and joy, To guard the King, to serve him as my Lord: Haste thee good Nana, for my husband's care, Consumeth me and wounds me to the heart. madam I go, yet loath to leave you here. Go thou with speed, even as thou hold'st me dear, Return in haste. Now sir, what cheer? come taste this broth I bring. My grief is past, I feel no further sting. Where is your dwarf? Why hath he left you sir? For some affairs, he is not traveled far. If so you please, come in and take your rest. Fear keeps awake a discontented breast. What means this triumph friend? why are these feasts? Fair Ida sir, was married yesterday, Unto sir Eustace, and for that intent, we feast and sport it thus to honour them: And if you please, come in and take your part, My Lady is no niggard of her cheer. Monsigneur, why be you so sadda, fette bon cheer fontre de ce monde.
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)
God blesse his grace, and if his cause be iust, Prosper his warres: if not hee'l mend I trust: Good sir what mooues the king to fall to armes? The king of England forrageth his land, And hath besieged Dambac with mightie force: What other newes are common in the Court, Reade you these letters Madame tell the squire, The whole affaires of state, for I must hence. God prosper you, and bring you backe from thence: Madame what newes? They say the Queene is slaine. Tut, such reports more false then trueth containe. but these reports haue made his Nobles leaue him. Ah carelesse men, and would they so deceiue him? The land is spoylde, the commons fear the crosse, All crie against the king, their cause of losse: The English king subdues and conquers all. Ah lasse, this warre growes great, on causes small. Our Court is desolate, our Prince alone, Still dreading death. Woes me, for him I moane, Helpe, now helpe, a suddaine qualme. Assayles my heart. Good Madame stand her friend, Giue vs some licor to refresh her heart. Daw thou her vp, ande I will fetch thee foorth Potions of comfort to represse h paine. Fie Princesse, faint on euery fond report, How well nigh had you opened your estate: Couer these sorrowes with the vaile of ioy, And hope the best, for why this warre will cause, A great repentance in your husbands minde. Ah Nano, trees liue not without their sap, And Clitia cannot blush buton the sunne, The thirstie earth is broke with many a gap, And lands are leane, where riuers do not runne, Where soule is reft from that it loueth best, How can it thriue or boast of quiet rest? Thou knowest the Princes losse must be my death, His griefe, my griefe: his mischiefe must be mine: Oh if thou loue me, Nano high to court, Tell Rosse, tell Bartram that I am aliue, Conceale thou yet, the place of my aboade, Will them euen as they loue their Queene, As they are charie of my soule and ioy, To guard the King, to serue him as my Lord: Haste thee good Nana, for my husbands care, Consumeth mee and wounds mee to the heart. Madame I go, yet loth to leaue you heere. Go thou with speed, euen as thou holdst me deare, Returne in haste. Now sir, what cheare? come tast this broth I bring. My griefe is past, I feele no further sting. Where is your dwarfe? Why hath hee left you sir? For some affaires, hee is not traueld farre. If so you please, come in and take your rest. Feare keepes awake a discontented brest. What means this triumph frend? why are these feasts? Faire Ida sir, was marryed yesterday, Vnto sir Eustace, and for that intent, Wee feast and sport it thus to honour them: And if you please, come in and take your part, My Ladie is no niggard of her cheare. Monsigneur, why be you so sadda, fette bon chere fontre de ce monde.