The Death of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon (2 Robin Hood) · chunk 23 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 T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
And reason too. Now by my Honour, Hubert, I protest it is good reason. Bruise, I tell you plain, Is no sound cloak, to keep Iohn from the rain. I will go to her. Do good simple Earl. If not by threats, nor my entreats she yield, Thy brain is barren of invention, Dried up with care: & never will she yield her son to thee, that having power, want'st wit. Wife, I overhear thee Hubert. So do I dame Bruise: But stir no coals: the man is well beloved, And merits more than so. But I will answer. Hubert, thou fatal keeper of poor babes, That are appointed hostages for Iohn, Had I a son here, as I have not one (For yesterday I sent him into Wales) Thinkst thou I would be so degenerate, So far from kind, to give him unto thee? I would not I protest: thou knowest my mind. Lady, you fear more than you need to do, Indeed you do, in very deed you do: Hubert is wronged about the thing you mean, About young Arthur: O, I thought 'twas so: Indeed the honest, good, kind gentleman Did all he might for safeguard of the child. Believe me madam Bruise, the man is wronged. But he wrongs me, to keep my Castle thus, Disarming my true servants, arming his. Now more of outrage comes, what shall I do? O this is well. Hubert, where's Bruses son? Where thou shalt never see him, Iohn. Lady, we shall have talk with you anon. Where is he Hubert? Hid, or fled my Lord: we can by no means get her to confess. Welcome to Gilford, Oxford's liefest Lord. You scarce give welcome, ere I bid you go: For you my Lord, the Queen and Winchester, Shall march to Harford. Sweet Isabell, And if thou love me, play the Amazon. Matilda that hath long bewitched mine eye, Is as I hear by espials, now in Harford Castle; Besiege her there: for now her haughty father Ruffians it up and down, and all the brood Of viperous traitors whet their poisoned teeth, That they may feed on us that foster them. Go forward, and go with you victory: Which to assure, my powers shall follow you. Did I not tell you this: then trust me next: Nay he is changed, and cares no more for her, Than I do madam. Be gone I say, be gone: Your speed, rich victory attendeth on: But your delay May give your foes the happy glorious day. One boon my Liege, and part. Be brief. Show that poor Lady pity, I beseech. I will indeed. Come Lady, let us in. You have a son, go in and bring him me, And for the queen's sake I will favour ye. I have no son: come, come: come in and search, And if you find him, wretched may I be.
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Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And reason too. Now by my Honour, Hubert, I protest it is good reason. Bruse, I tell you plaine, Is no sound cloake, to keepe Iohn from the raine. I will goe to her. Doe good simple Earle. If not by threats, nor my intreats she yield, Thy braine is barren of inuention, Dried vp with care: & neuer will shee yield her sonne to thee, that hauing power, wantst wit. Wife, I ouerheare thee Hubert. So do I dame Bruse: But stir no coles: the man is well belou'd, And merits more than so. But I will answere. Hubert, thou fatall keeper of poore babes, That are appointed hostages for Iohn, Had I a sonne here, as I haue not one (For yesterday I sent him into Wales) Thinkst thou I would be so degenerate, So farre from kinde, to giue him vnto thee? I would not I protest: thou knowest my minde. Ladie, you feare more than you neede to doe, Indeede you doe, in very deede you doe: Hubert is wrongd about the thing you meane, About young Arthus: O, I thought twas so: Indeede the honest, good, kinde gentleman Did all he might for safegard of the childe. Beleeue me Madame Bruse, the man is wrongd. But he wrongs me, to keepe my Castle thus, Disarming my true seruants, arming his. Now more of outrage comes, what shall I doe? O this is well. Hubert, wheres Bruses sonne? Where thou shalt neuer see him, Iohn. Ladie, we shall haue talke with you anone. Where is he Hubert? Hid, or fled my Lord: we can by no means get her to confesse. Welcome to Gilford, Oxfords liefest Lord. You scarce giue welcome, ere I bid you goe: For you my Lord, the Queene and Winchester, Shall march to Harford. Sweete Isabell, And if thou loue me, play the Amazon. Matilda that hath long bewitcht mine eye, Is as I heare by spials, now in Harford Castle; Besiege her there: for now her hauty father Ruffians it vp and downe, and all the brood Of viperous traitors whet their poysoned teeth, That they may feed on vs that foster them. Goe forward, and goe with you victorie: Which to assure, my powers shall followe you. Did I not tell you this: then trust me next: Nay he is chang'd, and cares no more for her, Than I doe Madame. Be gone I say, be gone: Your speede, rich victory attendeth on: But your delay May giue your foes the happie glorious day. One boone my Liege, and part. Be briefe. Shew that poore Ladie pittie, I beseech. I will indeede. Come Ladie, let vs in. You haue a sonne, goe in and bring him mee, And for the Queenes sake I will fauour yee. I haue no son: come, come: come in and search, And if you finde him, wretched may I bee.