Wilson, Robert / Drayton, Michael / Munday, Anthony / Hathaway, Richard · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [Oct 16, payment] (Annals) history · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men unassigned nearest T31 Popes, cardinals and the crown · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T31: cardinal, pope, king, lord, majesty, holy, rome, france, church, lords.
No hate of mine, but power of holy church, Forbids all favour to false heretics. Your private malice more than public power, Strikes most at me, but with my life it ends. O that I had the Bishop in that fear, That once I had his Sumner by ourselves. My Lord yet grant one suit unto us all, That this same ancient serving man may wait Upon my lord his master in the Tower. This old iniquity, this heretic? That in contempt of our church discipline, Compelled my Sumner to devour his processet Old Ruffian past-grace, up start schismatic, Had not the King prayed us to pardon ye, Ye had fried for it, ye grizzled heretic. 'sblood my lord Bishop, ye do me wrong, I am neither heretic nor Puritan, but of the old church, i'll swear, drink ale, kiss a wench, go to mass, eat fish all Lent, and fast Friday's with cakes and wine, fruit and spicery, shrive me of my old sins afore Easter, and begin new afore Whitsuntide. A merry mad conceited knave my lord. That knave was simply put upon the Bishop. Well, God forgive him and I pardon him. Let him attend his master in the Tower, For I in charity wish his soul no hurt. God bless my soul from such cold charity, Tooth Tower with him, and when my leisure serves, I will examine him of Articles, Look my lord Warden as you have in charge, The shrive perform his office. Yes my lord. What bringst thou there? what? books of heresy. Yea my lord, here's not a latin book, No not so much as our lady's Psalter, Here's the Bible, the testament the Psalms in meeter, The sickman's salve, the treasure of gladness, And all in English, not so much but the Almanac's English. Away with them, toth' fire with them Clun, Now fie upon these upstart heretics, All English, burn them, burn them quickly Clun. But do not Sumner as voule answer it, for I have there English books my lord, that i'll not part with for your Bishopric, Bevis of Hampton, owlglass, the Friar and the Boy, Ellen of Rumming, Robin hood, and other such godly stories which if ye burn, by this flesh i'll make ye drink their ashes in S. Marget's ale. Is it your honours pleasure we shall stay, Or come back in the afternoon to fetch you. Now you have brought me here into the Tower, You may go back unto the porter's Lodge, And send for drink or such things as you want, Where if I have occasion to employ you, I'll send some officer to call you to me. Into the city go not, I command you, Perhaps I may have present need to use you. We will attend your worship here without. Do so I pray you. Come, we may have a quart of wine at the Rose at Barking, I warrant you, and come back an hour before he be ready to go.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T5 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
No hate of mine, but power of holy church, Fobids all fauor to false heretikes. Your priuate malice more than publike power, Strikes most at me, but with my life it ends. O that I had the Bishop in that feare, That once I had his Sumner by our selues. My Lord yet graunt one sute vnto vs all, That this same auncient seruing man may waite Vpon my lord his master in the Tower. This old iniquitie, this heretike? That in contempt of our church discipline, Compeld my Sumner to deuoure his processet Old Ruffian past-grace, vp start schismatike, Had not the King prayd vs to pardon ye, Ye had fryed for it, ye grizild heretike. Sbloud my lord Bishop, ye do me wrong, I am neither heretike nor puritane, but of the old church, ile sweare, drinke ale, kisse a wench, go to masse, eate fish all Lent, and fast fridaies with cakes and wine, fruite and spicerie, shriue me of my old sinnes afore Easter, and beginne new afore whitsontide. A merie mad conceited knaue my lord. That knaue was simply put vpon the Bishop. VVel, God forgiue him and I pardon him. Let him attend his master in the Tower, For I in charity wish his soule no hurt. God blesse my soule from such cold charitie, Tooth Tower with him, and when my leisure serues, I will examine him of Articles, Looke my lord Warden as you haue in charge, The Shriue performe his office. Yes my lord. VVhat bringst thou there? what? bookes of heresie. Yea my lord, heres not a latine booke, No not so much as our ladies Psalter, Heres the Bible, the testament the Psalmes in meter, The sickemans salue, the treasure of gladnesse, And al in English, not so much but the Almanack's English. Away with them, to'th fire with them Clun, Now fie vpon these vpstart heretikes, Al English, burne them, burne them quickly Clun. But doe not Sumner as voule answere it, for I haue there English bookes my lord, that ile not part with for your Bishoppricke, Beuis of Hampton, Owleglasse, the Frier and the Boy, Ellen of Rumming, Robin hood, and other such godly stories which if ye burne, by this flesh ile make ye drink their ashes in S. Margets ale. Is it your honors pleasure we shal stay, Or come backe in the afternoone to fetch you. Now you haue brought me heere into the Tower, You may go backe vnto the Porters Lodge, And send for drinke or such things as you want, Where if I haue occasion to imploy you, Ile send some officer to cal you to me. Into the cittie go not, I commaund you, Perhaps I may haue present neede to vse you. We will attend your worship here without. Do so I pray you. Come, we may haue a quart of wine at the Rose at Barking, I warrant you, and come backe an hower before he be ready to go.