The Death of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon (2 Robin Hood) · chunk 36 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 T15 Friars and holy orders in plot · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T15: friar, lord, holy, friars, robin, peggy, lacie, angelo, love, nun.
You do confess the king hath tempted you, And thinking now and then on gifts and state, A glowing heat hath proudly puffed you up: But thanks to God, his Grace hath done you good. Who, the king's Grace? No: God's Grace, holy monk. The king's Grace fain would do you good, fair maid. Ill good: he means my fame to violate. Well, let that be. Good bawd, good mother B. How fain you would that that good deed should he! I was about to say somewhat upon a thing. O thus it is. We maids that all the day are occupied, In labour and chaste hallowed exercise, Are nothing so much tempted while day lasts, As we are tried and proved in the night. Tell me Matilda, had you since you came, No dreams, no visions, nothing worth the note? No, I thank God. Truly you will, you will; Except you take good heed and bless yourself. For if I lie but on my back a while, I am past recovery, sure of a bad dream. You see yond reverend Monk: now God he knows, I love him dearer for his holiness: And I believe the devil knows it too: For the foul fiend comes to me many a night, As like the monk, as if he were the man. Many a hundred nights, the Nuns have seen: Pray, cry, make crosses, do they what they can. Once gotten in, then do I fall to work, My holy water bucket being near hand, I whisper secret spells, and conjure him, That the foul fiend hath no more power to stand: He down, as I can quickly get him laid, I bless myself, and like a holy maid, Turn on my right side: where I sleep all night, Without more dreams, or troubling of the sprite, An Abbess by the cross of my good blade, An excellent mother to bring up a maid, For me I mean, and my good master, But never any for an honest man Now fie upon that word of honesty: Passing my throat, 'thad almost choked me: 'sblood I'll for swear it for this trick. We trifle time. Fair maid, it's thus in brief; This Abbey by your means may have relief: An hundred marks a year: answer I pray, What will you do herein? even all I may. It's charitably spoken, my fair child: A little thing of yours, a little help Will serve the turn, learn but to bear, to bear The burden of this world, and it will do. Well go thy ways: Is this no bawd think you? Madam, the heavy burden of the world Hath long oppressed me. But not priest you right! Now shall you bear a burden far more light. What burden bearing? whereto tends this talk? To you, to us, this Abbey and King Iohn, O God forefend he should be thought upon.
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)
You doe confesse the king hath tempted you, And thinking now and then on gifts and state, A glowing heat hath proudly puft you vp: But thanks to God, his Grace hath done you good. Who, the kings Grace? No: Gods Grace, holy monke. The kings Grace faine would do you good, faire maid. Ill good: he meanes my fame to violate. Well▪ let that be. Good baud, good mother B. How faine you would that that good deed should he! I was about to say somewhat vpon a thing. O thus it is. We maids that all the day are occupied, In labour and chaste hallowed exercise, Are nothing so much tempted while day lasts, As we are tried and prooued in the night. Tell mee Matilda, had you since you came, No dreames, no visions, nothing worth the note? No, I thanke God. Truly you will▪ you will; Except you take good heede and blesse your selfe. For if lie but on my backe a while, I am past recouery, sure of a bad dreame. You see yon reuerend Monke: now God he knowes, I loue him dearer for his holinesse: And I beleeue the diuell knowes it too: For the foule fend comes to me many a night, As like the monke, as if he were the man. Many a hundred nights, the Nuns haue seene: Pray, cry, make crosses, doe they what they can. Once gotten in, then doe I fall to worke, My holy water bucket being neere hand, I whisper secret spelles, and coniure him, That the foule fiend hath no more powre to stand▪ He downe, as I can quickly get him laid, I blesse my selfe▪ and like a holy maid, Turne on my right side: where I sleepe all night, Without more dreames, or troubling of the spright, An Abbesse by the crosse of my good blade, An excellent mother to bring vp a maid, For mee I meane, and my good master, But neuer any for an honest man. Now fie vpon that word of honestie▪ Passing my throat, 'thad almost choked me: Sblood Ile for sweare it for this tricke. We trifle time. Faire maid, its thus in briefe; This Abbey by your meanes may haue reliefe▪ An hundred markes a yeare: answere I pray, What will you doe herein? Euen all I may. Its charitably spoken, my faire childe: A litle thing of yours, a little helpe Will serue th turne, learne but to beare, to beare The burden of this world, and it will doe. Well goe thy waies: Is this no baud think you? Madam, the heauie burden of the world Hath long opprest mee. But not prest you right! Now shall you beare a burden farre more light. What burden bearing? wherto tends this talke? To ou, to vs▪ this Abbey and King Iohn, O God forefend he should be thought vpon.