The Death of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon (2 Robin Hood) · chunk 44 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 T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea · 524 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Remember Bruise, thy charge. Come Lords away. Away, we will away. Hark Lester but one word, a little stay. Help me good Hubert, help me gentle Queen. How dim these Tapers burn! they give no light. Here were two beauteous Lamps, that could have taught The Sun to shine by day, the Moon by night: But they are dim too: clean extinguished. Away with these, sith those fair lights be dead. And as I say, hark Bruise unto our talk. Think you it is for love of England, Lewis comes? Nay: France is not so kind: I would it were. Advise yourselves, hark, dost thou hear me Bruise? Oxford, I do. Can noble English hearts bear the French yoke? No Lester: Richmond think on Lewis sire, That left you, and your king, in Palestine. And think beside, you know not Lewis nature, Who may be as bad as Iohn, or rather worse than he. And look my Lords upon his silent woe: His soul is at the door of death I know. See how he seeks to suck, if he could draw, Poison from dead Matilda's ashy lips. I'll be sworn his very heart strings nips. A vengeance on that slave, that cursed Brand, I'll kill him if I live, with this right hand. Thou canst not Hubert, he hath killed himself: But to our matter. Lester, pray thee speak. Young Bruse, for God's sake let us know thy mind. I would be loath to be a stranger's slave: For England's love, I would no French king have. Well Oxford, if I be deceived in Iohn again, It's long of you, Lord Hubert, and the Queen. Yield up the Castle Bruise, we'll once more try King John's proceedings. Oxford, tell him so. I will come down: but first farewell dear mother, Farewell poor little George, my pretty brother. Now will I shut my shambles in again. Farewell, farewell. In everlasting bliss your sweet souls dwell. But you must mend i'faith, in faith you must. My Lord, once more your subjects do submit, Beseeching you to think how things have passed, And let some comfort shine on us your friends, Through the bright splendour of your virtuous life. I thank you all; and Lester I protest, I will be better than I yet have been. Of Windsor Castle here the keys I yield. Thanks Bruise: forgive me, and I pray thee see Thy mother and thy brother buried, In Windsor Castle Church. Do, kiss her cheek: Weep thou on that, on this side I will weep. Chaste virgin, thus I crown thee with these flowers. Let us go on to Dunmow with this maid: Among the hallowed Nuns let her be laid: Unto her tomb, a monthly pilgrimage Doth king Iohn vow in penance for this wrong. Go forward maids: on with Matilda's hearse, And on her Tomb see you engrave this verse; Within this Marble monument, doth lie Matilda martyred, for her chastity, Thus is Matilda's story shown in act, And rough hewn out by an uncunning hand: Being of the most material points compact, That with the certainest state of truth do stand.
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)
Remēber Bruse, thy charge. Come Lords away. Away, wee will away. Harke Lester but one word, a little stay. Helpe mee good Hubert, helpe me gentle Queene. How dim these Tapers burne! they giue no light. Here were two beautious Lamps, y• could haue taught The Sunne to shine by day, the Moone by night: But they are dim too: cleane extinguished. Away with these, sith those faire lights be dead. And as I say, harke Bruse vnto our talke. Thinke you it is for loue of England, Lewis comes? Nay: Fraunce is not so kinde: I would it were. Aduise your selues, harke, dost thou heare me Bruse? Oxford, I doe. Can noble English hearts beare the French yoke? No Lester▪ Richmond thinke on Lewys sire, That let you, and your king, in Palestine. And think beside, you know not Lewys nature, Who may be as bad as Iohn, or rather worse than he. And looke my Lords vpon his silent woe: His soule is at the doore of death I knowe. See how he seekes to suck, if he could drawe, Poyson from dead Matildaes ashie lips. Ile be sworne his very heart strings nips. A vngance on that slaue, that cursed Brand, Ile kill him if I liue, with this right hand. Thou canst not Hubert, he hath kild himselfe: But to our matter. Lester, pray thee speake. Young Bruse, for gods sake let vs knowe thy minde. I would be loath to be a strangers slaue: For Englands loue, I would no French king haue. Well Oxford, if I be deceiu'd in Iohn againe, Its long of you, Lord Hubert, and the Queene. Yield vp the Castle Bruse, weele once more try King Iohns proceedings. Oxford, tell him so. I will come downe: but first farewell dear mother, Farewell poore little George, my pretty brother. Now will I shut my shambles in againe. Farewell, farewell. In euerlasting blisse your sweete soules dwell. But you must mendy faith, in faith you must. My Lord, once more your subiects do submit, Besceching you to thinke how things haue past, And let some comfort shine on vs your friends, Through the bright splendour of your vertuous life. I thanke you all; and Lester I protest, I will be better than I yet haue beene. Of Windsor Castle here the keyes I yield. Thanks Bruse: forgiue mee, and I pray thee see Thy mother and thy brother buried, In Windsor Castle Church. Doe, kisse her cheeke: Weepe thou on that, on this side I will weepe. Chaste virgine, thus I crowne thee wt these flowers. Let vs goe on to Dunmow with this maid: Among the hallowed Nunnes let her be laide: Unto her tombe, a monthly pilgrimage Doth king Iohn vowe in penance for this wrong. Goe forward maids: on with Matildaes herse, And on her Toombe see you ingraue this verse; Within this Marble monument, doth lye Matilda martyrde, for her chastitie, Thus is Matildaes story showne in act, And rough heawen out by an vncunning hand▪ Being of the most materiall points compackt, That with the certainst state of truth doe stand.