The Death of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon (2 Robin Hood) · chunk 12 of 44
Munday, Anthony / Chettle, Henry · published 1601 · first performed or written 1598 [Feb 20-Mar 8, payment] (Annals) tragedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 522 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Bring forth a Beer, and cover if with green; That on my deathbed I may here sit down. At Robin's burial let no black be seen, Let no hand give for him a mourning gown: For in his death, his king hath given him life, By this large gift, given to his maiden wife. Chaste maid Matilda, Countess of account, Chase, with thy bright eyes, all these clouds of woe, From these fair cheeks, I pray thee sweet do so. Think it is bootless folly, to complain, For that which never can be had again. Queen Elianor, you once were Matild's foe: Prince Iohn, you long sought her unlawful love: Let dying Robin Hood entreat you both, To change those passions madam turn your hate, To princely love; Prince Iohn, convert your love To virtuous passions, chaste and moderate. O that your gracious right hands would enfold, Matilda's right hand, prisoned in my palm, And swear to do what Robin Hood desires. I swear I will, I will a mother be. To fair Matilda's life and chastity. When Iohn solicits chaste Matilda's ears, With lawless suits, as he hath often done: Or offers to the altars of her eyes, Lascivious Poems, stuffed with vanities, He craves to see but short and sour days, His death be like to Robin's he desires, His perjured body prove a poisoned prey, For cowled Monks, and barefoot begging Friars. Enough, enough, Fitzwater, take your child: My dying frost which no suns heat can thaw, Closes the powers of all my outward parts, My freezing blood runs back unto my heart, Where it assists death, which it would resist: Only my love a little hinders death. For he beholds her eyes, and cannot smite: Then go not yet Matilda, stay a while. friar, make speed, and lift my latest will. O let me look, for ever in thy eyes, And lay my warm breath to thy bloodless lips, If my sight can restrain deaths tyrannies, Or keep lives breath within thy bosom locked. Away, away, Forbear, my love: all this is but delay. Come maiden daughter, from my maiden son, And give him leave to do what must be done. First I bequeath my soul to all soul's saver, And will my body to be buried, At Wakefield, underneath the Abbey wall: And in this order make my funeral; When I am dead, stretch me upon this Beer, My beads and Primer shall my pillow be: On this side lay my bow, my good shafts here, Upon my breast the cross, and underneath, My trusty sword, thus fastened in the sheath. Let Warman's body at my feet be laid, Poor Warman, that in my defence did die, For holy dirges, sing me woodmen's songs, As ye to Wakefield walk, with voices shrill: This for myself: my goods and plate I give Among my yeomen: them I do bestow, Upon my Sovereign, Richard. This is all. My liege farewell, my love farewell, farewell. Farewell fair Queen, Prince Iohn and noble Lords. Father Fitzwater heartily adieu, Adieu my yeomen tall. Matilda close mine eyes. friar farewell, farewell to all.
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)
Bring forth a Beere, and couer if with greene; That on my death-bed I may here sit downe. At Robins buriall let no blacke be seene, Let no hand giue for him a mourning gowne: For in his death, his king hath giuen him life, By this large gift, giuen to his maiden wife. Chaist maid Marilda, Countesse of account, Chase, with thy bright eyes, all these clouds of woe, From these faire cheekes, I pray thee sweete do so. Thinke it is bootelesse folly, to complaine, For that which neuer can be had againe. Queene Elianor, you once were Matilds foe: Prince Iohn, you long sought her vnlawfull loue: Let dying Robin Hood intreat you both, To change those passions Madame turne your hate, To princely loue; Prince Iohn, conuert your loue To vertuous passions, chast and moderate. O that your gratious right hands would infolde, Matildas right hand, prisoned in my palme, And sweare to doe what Robin Hood desires. I sweare I will, I will a mother be. To faire Matildas life and chastite. When Iohn solicites chast Matildaes eares, With lawlesse sutes, as he hath often done: Or offers to the altars of her eyes, Lasciuious Poems, stuft with vanities, He craues to see but short and sower daies, His death be like to Robins he desires, His periur'd body proue a poysoned prey, For cowled Monkes, and barefoote begging Friers. Inough, inough, Fitzwater, take your child: My dying frost which no sunnes heat can thawe, Closes the powers of all my outward parts, My freezing blood runnes backe vnto my heart, Where it assists death, which it would resist: Only my loue a little hinders death. For he beholds her eyes, and cannot smite: Then goe not yet Matilda, stay a while. Frier, make speede, and lift my latest will. O let mee looke, for euer in thy eyes, And lay my warme breath to thy bloodlesse lips, If my sight can restraine deaths tyrannies, Or keepe liues breath within thy bosome lockt. Away, away, Forbeare, my loue: all this is but delay. Come maiden daughter, from my maiden sonne, And giue him leaue to doe what must be done. First I bequeath my soule to all soules sauer, And will my bodie to be buried, At Wakefield, vnderneath the Abbey wall: And in this order make my funerall; When I am dead, stretch me vpon this Beere, My beades and Primer shall my pillowe bee: On this side lay my bowe, my good shafts here, Upon my brest the crosse, and vnderneath, My trustie sworde, thus fastned in the sheath. Let Warmans bodie at my feete be laid, Poore Warman, that in my defence did die, For holy dirges, sing me wodmens songs, As ye to Wakefield walke, with voices shrill: This for my selfe: my goods and plate I giue Among my yeomen: them I doe bestowe, Upon my Soueraigne, Richard. This is all. My liege farewell, my loue farewell, farewell. Farewell faire Queene, Prince Iohn and noble Lords. Father Fitzwater heartily adieu, Adieu my yeomen tall. Matilda close mine eyes. Frier farewell, farewell to all.