S., W. · published 1602 · first performed or written 1600 [c.1599-1602] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T31 Popes, cardinals and the crown · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T31: cardinal, pope, king, lord, majesty, holy, rome, france, church, lords.
I love health well, but when healths do bring, Pain to the head, and bodies surfeiting: Then cease I healths: nay spill not friend, For though the drops be small, Yet have they force, to force men to the wall. Sir Christopher is that your man. And like your grace he is a Scholar and a linguist, One that hath traveled many parts of Christendom my Lord. My friend come nearer, have you been a traveler. My Lord I have added to my knowledge, the lo Countries, France, Spain, Germanie, and Italie: And though small gain, of profit I did find, Yet did it please my eye, content my mind. What do you think of the several states, And princes Courts as you have traveled. My Lord no Court with England may compare, Neither for state nor civil government: Lust dwells in France, in Italie, and Spain, From the poor peasant to the PRINCE's train, In Germanie, and Holland riot serves, And he that most can drink, most he deserves: England I praise not: for I here was borne, But that she laugheth the others unto scorn. My Lord there dwells within that spirit, More than can be discerned by outward eye, Sir Christopher will you part with your man. I have sought to proffer him to your Lordship, And now I see he hath preferred himself. What is thy name. Cromwell my Lord. Then Cromwell here we make thee solicitor of our causes, And nearest next ourself: Gardiner give you kind welcome to the man. My Lord you are a royal winner, Hath got a man besides your bounteous dinner, Well Knight, pray we come no more: If we come often, or shut up thy door. Sir Christopher Hales hadst thou given me, Half thy lands: thou couldst not have pleased me: So much as with this man of thine, My infant thoughts do spell: Shortly his fortune shall be lifted higher, True industry doth kindle honour's fire, And so kind master of the Rolls farewell. Cromwell farewell. Cromwell takes his leave of you, That never will leave to love and honour you. Now Cromwells highest fortunes doth begin, Wolsey that loved him as he did his life: Committed all his treasure to his hands, Wolsey is dead, and Gardiner his man, Is now created Bishop of Winchester: Pardon if we omit all Wolsey's life, Because our play depends on Cromwell's death, Now sit and see his highest state of all; His height of rising: and his sudden fall, Pardon the errors is all ready past, And live in hope the best doth come at last: My hope upon your favour doth depend, And look to have your liking ere the end. Master Cromwell since Cardinal Wolsey's death, His majesty is given to understand: There's certain bills and writings in your hand, That much concerns the state of England, My Lord of Winchester is it not so.
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 loue health well, but when healthes doe bring, Paine to the head, and bodies surfeting: Then cease I healthes: nay spill not friend, For though the drops be small, Yet haue they force, to force men to the wall. Sir Christopher is that your man. And like your grace he is a Scholler and a Lingest, One that hath trauelled manie partes of Christendome my Lorde. My friend come nearer, haue you beene a traueller. My Lord I haue added to my knowledge, the loe Countries, France, Spaine, Germanie, and Italie: And though small gaine, of profit I did finde, Yet did it please my eye, content my minde. What doe you thinke of the seuerall states, And princes Courtes as you haue trauelled. My Lord no Court with England may compare, Neither for state nor ciuill gouernement: Lust dwelles in France, in Italie, and Spaine, From the poore pesant to the Princes traine, In Germanie, and Holland riot serues, And he that most can drinke, most he deserues: England I praise not: for I here was borne, But that she laugheth the others vnto scorne. My Lord there dwelles within that spirite, More then can be discerned by outwarde eye, Sir Cristopher will you part with your man. I haue sought to proffer him to your Lordship, And now I see he hath preferred himselfe. What is thy name. Cromwell my Lorde. Then Cromwell here we make thee Solliciter of our causes, And nearest next our selfe: Gardiner giue you kinde welcome to the man. My Lorde you are a royall Winer, Hath got a man besides your bountious dinner, Well Knight, praie we come no more: If we come often, or shut vp thy doore. Sir Christopher haddest hadst thou giuen me, Halfe thy landes: thou couldest not haue pleased me: So much as with this man of thine, My infant thoughtes do spell: Shortlie his fortune shall be lifted higher, True industrie doth kindle honours fier, And so kinde maister of the Roules farewell. Cromwell farewell. Cromwell takes his leaue of you, That neare will leaue to loue and honour you. Now Cromwells highest fortunes doth begin, Wolsay that loued him as he did his life: Committed all his treasure to his hands, VVolsay is dead, and Gardiner his man, Is now created Bishop of UUinchestor: Pardon if we omit all UUolsayes life, Because our play dependes on Cromwelles death, Now sit and see his highest state of all; His haight of rysing: and his sodaine fall, Pardon the errors is all readie past, And liue in hope the best doth come at last: My hope vpon your fauour doth depend, And looke to haue your liking ere the end. Maister Cromwell since Cardinall VVolsayes death, His maiestie is giuen to vnderstand: Theres certaine billes and writings in your hand, That much concernes the state of England, My Lord of VVinchester is it not so.