The Death of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon (2 Robin Hood) · chunk 18 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 T61 Sir Giles Goosecap and related knightly · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T61: gyles, giles, lord, wood, captain, cutt, lady, ladies, emphatical, knights.
Go on, good stales, now Gilford is mine own. Hubert, I charge you take an hundred horse, And follow unto Gilford Castle gates, The Queen, pretend, you come to tend upon, Sent carefully from us: when you are in, Boldly demand the Lady for her sons, For pledges of her husband's faith and hers: Whom when ye have, upon the Castle seize, And keep it to our use until we come: meanwhile let me alone with Hugh your son, To work a wonder, if no prodigy: But, whatsoe'er, it shall attempted be. even that which to your Majesty May seem contentful, thereto I agree. Go then to Gilford, and a victor be. Mowbray, our mask? are you and Chester ready? We will before your Grace, I warrant you. How thinkst of it, Mowbray? As on a mask; but for our torchbearers, Hell cannot rake so mad a crew as I. Faith, who is chief? Will Brand, my Lord. But then your Grace must curb his cruelty: The reign once got, he's apt for villainy. I know the villain is both rough and grim: But as a tie-dog I will muzzle him. I'll bring him up to fawn upon my friends, And worry dead my foes. But to our mask. I mean this night to revel at the feast, Where fair Matilda graceth every guest: And if my hidden courtesy she grace, Old Bainard's Castle good Fitzwater's place, Iohn will make rich, with royal England's wealth: But if she do vot: not those scattered bands, Dropping from Austria, and the Holy land, That boast so much of glorious victories, Shall stop the inundations of those woes, That like a deluge I will bring on them: I know the crew is there, banish all fears: If wronged, they shall be ours, if welcome, theirs. Why how now votary? still at your book? Ever in mourning weeds? For shame, for shame, With better entertainment cheer our friends. Now by the blessed cross you are much too blame, To cross our mirth thus; you are much too blame I say. Good Lord, hath never woe enough of well adam! Indeed, indeed, Some sorrow fits: but this is more than need. Good father pardon me, You saw I sat the supper and the banquet, You know I cannot dance, discourse I shun: By reason that my wit, but small before, Comes far behind the ripe wits of our age. You'll be too ripe for marriage, If you delay, by day, and day, thus long, There is the noble Wigmore, lord of the March, That lies on Wye, Lug, and the Severn streams, His son is like the suns sires Ganymede, And for your love, hath sent a Lord to plead: His absence, I did purpose to excuse: But Lester to the man for him that sues. My cousin Bruise hath been your Broker, Lester, At least hath broke the matter to my girl.
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)
Goe on, good stales, now Gilford is mine owne. Hubert, I charge you take an hundred horse, And followe vnto Gilford Castle gates, The Queene, pretend, you come to tend vpon, Sent carefully from vs: when you are in, Boldly demaund the Lady for her sonnes, For pledges of her husbands faith and hers: Whome when yee haue, vpon the Castle seize, And keepe it to our vse vntill we come: Meane while let me alone with Hugh your sonne, To worke a wonder, if no prodigie: But, whatsoere, it shall attempted be. Euen that which to your Maiestie May seeme contentfull, thereto I agree. Goe then to Gilford, and a victor be. Moubray, our maske? are you and Chester ready? We will before your Grace, I warrant you. How thinkst of it, Mowbray? As on a maske; but for our torch-bearers, Hell cannot rake so mad a crewe as I. Faith, who is chiefe? Will Brand, my Lord. But then your Grace must curbe his cruelty: The raigne once got, he's apt for villanie. I knowe the villaine is both rough and grim: But as a ty-dogge I will muzzle him. Ile bring him vp to fawne vpon my friends, And worry dead my foes. But to our maske. I meane this night to reuell at the feast, Where faire Matilda graceth euery guest: And if my hidden curtesie she grace, Old Bainards Castle good Fitzwaters place, Iohn will make rich, with royall Englands wealth: But if she do uot: not those scattred bands, Dropping from Austria, and the Holy land, That boast so much of glorious victories, Shall stoppe the inundations of those woes, That like a deluge I will bring on them: I knowe the crue is there, banish all feares: If wrongd, they shall be ours, if welcome, theirs. Why how now votary? still at your booke? Euer in mourning weedes? For shame, for shame, With better entertainement cheere our friends. Now by the blest crosse you are much too blame, To crosse our mirth thus; you are much too blame Isay. Good Lord, hath neuer woe inough of well ada! Indeed, indeede, Some sorrow fits: but this is more than neede. Good father pardon me, You saw I sate the supper and the banquet, You knowe I cannot dance, discourse I shunne: By reason that my wit, but small before, Comes farre behinde the ripe wits of our age. Youl be too ripe for mariage, If you delay, by day, and day, thus long, There is the noble Wigmore, lord of the March, That lyes on Wye, Lug, and the Seuerne streames, His sonne is like the sunnes syres Ganimede, And for your loue, hath sent a Lord to plead: His absence, I did purpose to excuse: But Lester to the man for him that sues. My cousin Bruse hath bene your Broker, Lester, At least hath broke the matter to my girle.