1 If You Know Not Me You Know Nobody, or The Troubles of Queen Elizabeth · chunk 9 of 23
Heywood, Thomas · published 1605 · first performed or written 1604 [1604-1605; revised c.1632] (Annals) history · Queen Anne's Men unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
Marry a God not I, no, no, not I; Yet who shall hinder these my eyes to sorrow For her sorrow: By Gods marry dear, That the Queen could not, though herself were here: My Lords, my Lords, if it were held foul treason, To grieve for her hard usage, by my Soul My eyes would hardly prove me a true Subject: But 'tis the queen's pleasure, and we must obey: But I shall mourn, should the King and Queen say nay. My grieved Mistress humbly thus entreats, For to remove back to the Common stairs, And not to land where Traitors put to shore, Some difference she entreats your Honours make Twixt Crystal Fountains, and foul muddy Springs, Twixt those that are condemned by the law, And those whom treason's stain did never blemish: Thus she attends your answer, and sits still Whilst her wet eyes, full many a tear did spill. Marry a God, 'tis true and 'tis no reason: Launch Bargeman. Good Lady land, where Traitors use to land, And fore her guilt be proved, Gods marry no, And the Queen wils it, that it should be so. My Lord, you must look into our Commission, No favours granted, she of force must land, 'tis a decree which we can not withstand, So tell her master Gage, As good a Lady as ere England bread, Would he that caused this woe, had lost his head. Madam, you have stepped too short into the water. No matter where I tread, Would where I set my foot, there lay my head, Land Traitor like; my foot's wet in the flood, So shall my heart ere long be drenched in blood. Here comes the Constable of the tower, This is your charge. And I receive my prisoner, come will you go? Whither my Lord, unto a grate of Iron, Where grief and care my poor heart shall environ, I am not well. A chair for the Princess. Here's no chair for prisoners, Come will you see your chamber. Then on this stone, this cold stone I will sit, I needs must say you hardly me entreat, When for a chair, this hard stone is my seat. My Lord, you deal too cruelly with the Princess, You knew her father, she's no stranger to you. Madam it rains. Good Lady take my cloak. No let it alone: See gentle men, The piteous heavens weeps tears into my bosom, On this cold stone I sit, rain in my face, But better here, than in a worser place Where this bad man will lead me. Clarentia, reach my book, now lead me where you please From sight of day; or in a dungeon; I shall see to pray. Nay, nay, you need not bolt & lock so fast, she is no starter; honourable Lords, Speak to the Queen she may have some release.
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)
Marry a God not I, no, no, not I; Yet who shall hinder these my eyes to sorrow For her sorrow: By Gods marry deere, That the Queene could not, though her selfe were here: My Lords, my Lords, if it were held fowle treason, To grieue for her hard vsage, by my Soule My eyes would hardly prooue me a true Subiect: But tis the Queenes pleasure, and we must obay: But I shall mourne, should the King and Queene say nay. My grieued Mistresse humbly thus intreats, For to remooue backe to the Common stayres, And not to land where Traytors put to shore, Some difference she intreats your Honors make Twixt Christall Fountaines, and fowle muddy Springs, Twixt those that are condemned by the law, And those whome Treasons staine did neuer blemish: Thus she attends your answere, and sits still Whilst her wet eyes, full many a teare did spill. Marry a God, tis true and tis no reason: Lanch Bargeman. Good Lady land, where Traitors vse to land, And fore her guilt be proou'd, Gods marry no, And the Queene wils it, that it should be so. My Lord, you must looke into our Commission, No fauors granted, she of force must land, Tis a decree which we can not with stand, So tell her master Gage, As good a Lady as ere England bread, Would he that caus'd this woe, had lost his head. Madam, you haue stept too short into the water. No matter where I tread, Would where I set my foote, there lay my head, Land Traytor like; my foot's wet in the flood, So shall my hart ere long be drencht in blood. Here comes the Constable of the tower, This is your charge. And I receiue my prisoner, come will you goe? Whither my Lord, vnto a grate of Iron, Where greife and care my poore hart shall enuirone, I am not well. A chayre for the Princesse. Here's no chayre for prisoners, Come will you see your chamber. Then on this stone, this cold stone I will sit, I needes must say you hardly me intreat, VVhen for a chayre, this hard stone is my seate. My Lord, you deale too cruelly with the Princesse, You knew her father, shee's no stranger to you. Madam it raynes. Good Lady take my cloake. No let it a lone: See gentle men, The pittious heauens weepes teares into my bosome, On this cold stone I sit, raine in my face, But better heere, than in a worser place VVhere this bad man will lead me. Clarentia, reach my booke, now leade me where you please From sight of day; or in a dungeon; I shall see to pray. Nay, nay, you need not bolt & locke so fast, Shee is no starter; honorable Lords, Speake to the Queene she may haue some release.