The Death of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon (2 Robin Hood) · chunk 27 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 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
Thou liest she is not there. Under correction you wrong my age. Say I beseech you, is not this the Queen? I cry you mercy Oxford, 'tis indeed. Where is Matilda? Where virtue, chastity, and innocence remain, there is Matilda. How comes she, pray, to be so chaste, so fair, so virtuous in your eye? She freed me from my foes, and never urged My great abuse, when she was prisoner. What did you to her? Railed upon her first, Then tore her hair, and rent her tender cheeks. O heaven! was not the day dark at that foul deed? Could the sun see, without a red eclipse, The purple tears fall from those tyrant wounds! Out Aethiop, Gypsie, thick lipped Blackamoor: Wolf, tigress, worse than either of them both. Are you advised my Lord? Out doting Earl. Couldst thou endure to see such violence? I tell you plain. my Lord, I brooked it not, But stayed the tempest. Rend my loves cheeks? that matchless Effigy, Of wonder-working, nature's chiefest work. Tear her rich hair? to which, gold wires, Suns rays, and best of best compares (In their most pride) have no comparison. Abuse her name? Matilda's sacred name? O barbarous outrage, rudeness merciless. I told you Oxford, you mistook the king. I did indeed: my liege Lord give me leave, To leave the Camp. Away old fool: and take with thee that trull: For if she stay, Come Lady, come away. Tempt not his rage: ruin wrath always brings: Lust being lord, there is no trust in kings. To arms king Iohn: Fitzwater's field is pitched, About some mile hence, on a champain plain. Chester hath drawn our soldiers in array: The wings already have begun the fight. Thither we will with wings of vengeance fly, And win Matilda, or loose victory. Why did my keeper put us in thy hands? Wherein have we offended Blunt or thee? You need not make these words: You must remove your lodging: this is all. Be not afeard: come come, here is the door. O God how dark it is! Go in go in: it's higher up the stairs. My trembling heart forbids me to go in. O if thou have compassion, tell me true, What my poor boy and I must trust unto? I tell thee true, compassion is my foe: Yet have I bad of thee compassion. Take in thy child: as I have faith or troth, Thou and thy boy shall be but prisoners: And I must daily bring you meat and drink. Well, thou hast sworn: and God so give thee light, As in this dark place thou remember'st us. Poor heart, thou laughst, and hast not wit to think, Upon the many fears that me afflict. I will not in: help us, assist us Blunt. We shall be murdered in a dungeon. Cry without cause? I'll have ye in i'faith. O let my boy and I but dine with Blunt, And then I will with patience go in.
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)
Thou ly'st she is not there. Under correction you wrong my age. Say I beseech you, is not this the Queene? I cry you mercie Oxford, tis indeede. Where is Matilda? Where vertue, chastitie, and innocence remain, there is Matilda. How comes she, pray, to be so chaste, so faire, so vertuous in your eye? She freed me from my foes, and neuer vrg'd My great abuse, when she was prisoner. What did you to her? Raild vpon her first, Then tare her haire, and rent her tender cheekes. O heauen! was not the day darke at that foule deed? Could the sunne see, without a red eclipse, The purple teares fall from those tyrant wounds! Out Athiope, Gypsie, thick lipt Blackamoore: Wolfe, Tygresse, worse than either of them both. Are you aduis'd my Lord? Out doting Earle. Couldst thou endure to see such violence? I tell you plaine▪ my Lord, I brookt it not, But staid the tempest. Rend my loues cheekes? that matchlesse Effigie, Of wonder-working, natures chiefest worke. Teare her rich haire? to which, gold wyres, Sunnes rayes, and best of best compares (In their most pride) haue no comparison. Abuse her name? Matildaes sacred name? O barbarous outrage, rudenesse mercilesse. I told you Oxford, you mistooke the king. I did indeede: my liege Lord giue me leaue, To leaue the Campe. Away old foole: and take with thee that trull: For if she stay, Come Ladie, come away. Tempt not his rage ruine wrath alwaies brings: Lust being lord, there is no trust in kings. To armes king Iohn: Fitzwaters field is pitcht, About some mile hence, on a champain plaine. Chester hath drawne our souldiers in array: The wings already haue begun the fight. Thither we will with wings of vengeance fly, And winne Matilda, or loose victory. Why did my keeper put vs in thy hands? Wherein haue we offended Blunt or thee? You neede not make these words: You must remooue your Iodging: this is all. Be not afeard: come come, here is the doore. O God how darke it is! Goe in goe in: its higher vp the staires. My trembling heart forbids mee to goe in. O if thou haue compassion, tell me true, What my poore boy and I must trust vnto? I tell thee true, compassion is my foe: Yet haue I bad of thee compassion. Take in thy childe: as I haue faith or troth, Thou and thy boy shall be but prisoners: And I must daily bring you meat and drinke. Well, thou hast sworn: and God so giue thee light, As in this darke place thou remembrest vs. Poore heart, thou laughst, and hst not wit to thinke, Upon the many feares that me afflict. I will not in helpe vs, assist vs Blunt. We shall be murdred in a dungeon. Cry without cause? Ile haue yee in faith. O let my boy and I but dine with Blunt, And then I will with patience goe in.