When You See Me You Know Me (Henry the Eighth) · chunk 3 of 48
Rowley, Samuel · published 1605 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) history · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T31 Popes, cardinals and the crown · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T31: cardinal, pope, king, lord, majesty, holy, rome, france, church, lords.
How now Queen Iane (Mother of God) my love Thou wilt never be able to sit half this time: Ladies, I fear she'll wake ye, yer be long, methinks she bears her burden very heavily, And yet good sister and my honoured Lords, If this fair hour exceed not her expect. And pass the calendar of her accounts, She will hear this Embassage, Iane wilt thou nor Yes my dear Lord, I cannot leave your sight. So long as life retains this Mansion? In whose sweet looks bright sovereignties in throned, That make all Nations love and honour thee, Within thy frame sits Awful Majesty, Wreathed in the curled furrows of thy front: Admired and feared even of thine enemies; To be with thee, is my felicity. Not to behold the state of all the world, Could win thy Queen, thy sick unwieldy Queen, To leave her Chamber, in this mother's state. But sight of thee unequal potentate, God a-mercy Iane, reach me thy princely hand. Thou art now a right woman, goodly, chief of thy sex; methinks thou art a Queen superlative, Mother, a God this is a woman's glory, Like good September Vines loaden with fruit. How ill did they define the name of women, Adding so soul a preposition: To call it woe to man, 'tis woe from man. If woe it be, and then who does not know, That women still from men receive their woe. Yes, heigh love men for it, but what's their gain, Poor souls no more but travail for their pain; Come, love thou art sad, call Will Sommers in, to Make her merry, where is the fool today, He was met my Liege they say at London Early this morning with Doctor Skelton, has never from him, go let a groom be sent, And fetch him home, my good Lord Cardinal: Who are the chief of these Ambassadors? Lord Bonevet the French high Admiral, And Iohn de Mazo reverent Bishop of Paris. Let their welcome be thy care good Woolsey. It shall my Liege. Spare for no cost, Compton, what news? ambassadors my Liege. Enough, go give them entertainment Lords, Charles Brandon, hearst thou, give them courtesy Enough, and state enough, go conduct them. I go my Lord. How now William, what? post, post, where have you been riding. Out of my way old Harry, I am all on the spur, I can tell ye, I have tidings worth telling. Why, where hast thou been: Marry I rise early, and ride post to London, to know what news was here at Court. Was that your nearest way William? O ay, the very foot path, but yet I rid the horse way to here it, I warrant there is near a Cundhead keeper in London, but knows what is done in all the Courts in Christendom And what is the best news there William?
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)
How now Queene Iane (Mother of God) my loue Thou wilt neuer be able to sit halfe this time: Ladies, I feare shele wake ye, yerbe long, Me thinkes she beares her burthen veric heauily, And yet good sister and my honored Lords, If this faire houre exceede not her expect. And passe the callender of her accounts, Shee will heare this Embassage, Iane wilt thou nor Yes my deere Lord, I cannot leaue your sight. So long as life retaines this Mantion? In whose sweete lookes bright soueraigntyes in Thronde, That make all Nations loue and honor thee, Within thy frame sits Awfull Malestie, Wrethed in the curled urrowes of thy fronte: Admird and feard euen of thine enemies; To be with thee, is my selicie. Not to behold the state of all the world, Could winne thy Queene, thy sicke vnwildie Queene, To leaue her Chamber, in this mothers state. But sight of thee vnequall potent ate, God a-mercie Iane, reach me thy princely hand. Thou art now a right woman, goodly, cheife of thy sex; Me thinkes thou art a Queene suparlatiue, Mother, a God this is a womans glorie, Like good September Vines loden with fruite. How ill did they define the name of wemen, Adding so soule a preposition: To call it woe to man, tis woe from man. If woe it be, and then who dus not know, That weomen still from men receaue their woe. Yes, hey loue men for it, but whats their gaine, Poore soules no more but trauaile for their paine; Come, loue thou art sad, call Will Sommers in, to Make her merrie, where is the foole to day, He was met my Leige they say at London Earely this morning with Doctor Skelton, Hes neuer from him, goe let a grome be sent, And fetch him home, my good Lord Cardinall: Who are the cheife of these Embassadors? Lord Boneue the French high Admirall, And Iohn de Mazo reuerent Bishop of Paris. Let their welcome be thy care good Woolsie. It shall my Liege. Spare for no cost, Compton, what newes? Embassadors my Liege. Inough, go giue them entertainement Lords, Charles Brandon, hearst thou, giue them courtesie Inough, and state inough, go conduct them. I go my Lord. How now William, what? post, post, where haue you bene riding. Out of my way old Hary, I am all on the spurre, I can tell yee, I haue tidings worth telling. Why, where hast thou bin: Marrie I rise arly, and ride post to London, to know what newes was here at Court. Was that your neerest way William? O I, the verie foote pathe, but yet Irid the horse▪ way to here it, I warrant there is nere a Cundhead keeperin Londō, but knowes what is done in all the Courts in Cristendome And what is the best newes there William?