The Death of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon (2 Robin Hood) · chunk 32 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 · 529 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
I then Matilda, thou dost lose The former glory of thy chaste resolves. These seven years hast thou bid a martyr's pains, Resisting in thyself lust-growing fire: For being mortal, sure thou hadst desire. And five sad winters have their full course run, Since thou didst bury noble Huntington. In these years, many months, and many days, Have been consumed, thy virtues to consume: Gifts have been heralds, Panders did presume To tempt thy chaste ears, with their unchaste tongues. All in effect, working to no effect. For I was still the watchman of thy tower, The keeper of foul worms, from my fair flower: But now, no more, no more Fitzwater may Defend his poor Lamb, from the lions prey: Thy order and thy holy prayers may. To help thee, thou hast privilege by law: Therefore be resolute, and nobly die, Abhor base lust, defend thy chastity. Dispatch Fitzwater, hinder not thy child: Many preferments do on her await. I girl, I know thou shalt be offered wealth (Which is a shrewd enticement in sad want) Great honours to lift up thy low estate, And glorious titles to eternize thee. All these do but gild over ugly shame: Such wealth, my child, foreruns releaseless need: Such honour ever proves dishonourate. For titles, none comes near a virtuous name: O keep it ever, as thou hast done yet. And though these dark times should forget thy praise, An age will come, that shall eternize it. Bid me farewell, and speak it in a word. Farewell dear father. Oh farewell sweet child. My Liege farewell: Lester, Richmond, Hubert, Chester, and Mowbray: friends and foes farewell. Matilda, see thou keep thy spotless fame, And live eternized; else die soon with shame. Amen, amen father, adieu, adieu: Grief dwells with me, sweet comfort follow you. Come daughter come: this is a woeful sight, When good endeavours are oppressed by might. h Hubert, seest thou not the sunne go downe, Cloudy and dark? Matilda, stay one word. She shakes her head, and scornfully says nay. How cheerest thou Lester? Mad man, at my state: That cannot raise true honour ruinate. I will not be disdained: I vow to see Quick vengeance on this girl, for scorning me. Young Bruse, my Lord, hath gotten Windsor castle, Slain Blunt your Constable, and those that kept it: And finding in a tower his mother dead, With his young brother starved and famished: That every one may see the rueful sight, In the thick wall he a wide window makes: And as he found them, so he lets them be A spectacle to every comer by, That heaven and earth, your tyrant shame may see. All people cursing, crying fie upon The tyrant merciless, inhuman Iohn. Chester, and Mowbray, march away to Windsor: Suppress that traitor Bruise. What if his dam, In wilful fury, would receive no meat, Nor suffer her young child any to eat, Is it our fault? Haste ye with speed away, And we will follow: go, be gone I pray. O black and woeful deed! O piteous thing, When slaves attend the fierce thoughts of a king. My Lord, shall we go too?
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)
I then Matilda, thou dost loose The former glorie of thy chast resolues. These seauen years hast thou bid a Martyrs pains, Resisting in thy selfe lust-growing fier: For being mortall, sure thou hadst desire. And fiue sad winters haue their full course runne, Since thou didst bury noble Huntington. In these years, many months, and many daies, Haue bene consum'd, thy vertues to consume: Gifts haue bene heralds▪ Pandars did presume To tempt thy chast eares, with their vnchast tongues. All in effect, working to no effect. For I was still the watchman of thy tower, The keeper of fowle wormes, from my faire flower: But now, no more, no more Fitzwater may Defend his poore Lambe, from the Lyons prey: Thy order and thy holy prayers may. To helpe thee, thou hast priuiledge by lawe: Therefore be resolute, and nobly die, Abhorre base lust, defend thy chastitie. Dispath Fitzwater, hinder not thy childe: Many preferments doe on her awaite. I girle, I know thou shalt be offerd wealth (Which is a shrewde inticement in sad want) Great honours to lift vp thy lowe estate, And glorious titles to eternize thee. Al these doe but gild ouer vgly shame: Such wealth, my child, foreruns releaselesse need: Such honour euer prooues dishonourate. For titles, none comes neare a vertuous name: O keepe it euer, as thou hast done yet. And though these darke times should forget thy praise, An age will come, that shall eternize it. Bid me farewell, and speake it in a word. Farewell deare father. Oh farewell sweete childe. My Liege farewell: Lester, Richmond, Hughbert, Chester, and Mowbray: friends and foes farewell. Matilda, see thou keepe thy spotlesse fame, And liue eterniz'd; els die soone with shame. Amen, amen father, adieu, adieu: Griefe dwels with mee, sweete comfort follow you. Come daughter come: this is a wofull sight, When good endeauours are opprest by might. h Hubert, seest thou not the sunne go downe, Clowdy and darke? Matilda, stay one word. She shakes her head, and scornefully saies nay. How cheer'st thou Lester? Mad man, at my state: That cannot raise true honour ruinate. I will not be disdeignd: I owe to see Quick vengeance on this girle, for scorning me. Yoūg Bruse, my Lord, hath gotten Windsor castle, Slaine Blunt your Constable, and those that kept it: And finding in a tower his mother dead, With his young brother staru'd and famished: That euery one may see the rufull sight, In the thick wall he a wide windowe makes: And as he found them, so he lets them be A spectacle to euery commer by, That heauen and earth, your tyrant shame may see. All people cursing, crying fie vpon The tyrant mercilesse, inhumane Iohn. Chester, and Mowbray, march away to Windsor: Suppresse that traitor Bruse. What if his dam, In wilfull fury, would receiue no meat, Nor suffer her young childe any to eat, Is it our fault▪ Haste yee with speede away, And we wil followe: goe, be gon I pray. O black and wofull deede! O pittous thing, When slaues attend the fierce thoughts of a king. My Lord, shall we goe too?