Metropolis Coronata: The Triumphs of Ancient Drapery · chunk 3 of 4
Munday, Anthony · published 1615 · first performed or written 1615 [Oct 30] (Annals) civic play; pageant T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho typicality 0.76 · 408 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
For thus, my Lord, I truly understand, No greater Cross can hap to any Land, Then lack of Scholars, Soldiers, Sailors, Husbandmen, Long may we have them all, Time says Amen. NOw honoured Lord, since day is done, And you to your own house are come, With all delight that we can make ye: Methinks should not yet forsake ye, But that strict Time will have it so, And parts us, whether we will or no, All then my Lord that I shall say, Is, that your Honour would well weigh Your worthie-minded brethren's love, Who have in firm affection strove; How best they might renown this day: In honouring you. And I dare say, That never men did more desire To stretch their love and bounty higher Than they have done, and could afford For such a worthy minded Lord, Which they by me humbly commend Still at your service: So I end. SInce Graves may not their Dead contain, Nor in their peaceful sleeps remain, But Triumphs and great Shows must use them, And we unable to refuse them: It joys me that Earl Robert Hood, Fetched from the Forest of merry Shirwood, With these my Yeomen tight and tall, Brave Huntsmen and good Archers all: Must in this jovial day partake, Prepared for your Honour's sake. No sooner was I raised from rest, And of my former state possessed As while I lived: But being alone, And of my Yeomen seeing not one: I with my Bugle gave a call, Made all the Woods to ring withal. Immediately came little Iohn, And Scathlock followed him anon, With Much the honest Miller's Son. And ere ought else could be done, The frolic Friar came tripping in, His heart upon a merry pin. Master (quoth he) in yonder brake, A Deer is hid for Marian's sake, Bid Scathlock, Iohn, or honest Brand, That hath the happy hitting hand, Shoot right and have him. And see my Lord The deed performed with the word. For Robin and his Bowmen bold, Religiously did ever hold, Not emptie-handed to be seen, Were't but at feasting on a Greene. Much more then, when so high a day Calls our attendance: All we may, Is all too little, 'tis your grace, To wink at weakness in this case. So fearing to be overlong, End all with our old hunting Song. But good Master ere they sing, Favour me to move one thing.
seed 43: T22 · seed 44: T13 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
For thus, my Lord, I truely vnderſtand, No greater Croſſe can hap to any Land, Then lacke of Schollars, Souldiers, Saylers, Husband-men, Long may we haue them all, Time ſayes Amen. NOw honour'd Lord, ſince day is done, And you to your owne houſe are come, With all delight that we can make yee: Me thinks we ſhould not yet forſake yee, But that ſtrict Time will haue it ſo, And parts vs, whether we will or no, All then my Lord that I ſhall ſay, Is, that your Honour would well weigh Your worthie-minded Brethrens loue, Who haue in firme affection ſtroue; How beſt they might renowne this day: In honouring you. And I dare ſay, That neuer men did more deſire To ſtretch their loue and bounty higher Then they haue done, and could afford For ſuch a worthy minded Lord, Which they by me humbly commend Still at your ſeruice: So I end. SInce Graues may not their Dead containe, Nor in their peacefull ſleepes remaine, But Triumphes and great Showes muſt vſe them, And we vnable to refuſe them: It ioyes me that Earle Robert Hood, Fetcht from the Forreſt of merrie Shirwood, With theſe my Yeomen tight and tall, Braue Huntſmen and good Archers all: Muſt in this Iouiall day partake, Prepared for your Honours ſake. No ſooner was I rayſde from reſt, And of my former ſtate poſſeſt As while I liu'd: But being alone, And of my Yeomen ſeeing not one: I with my Bugle gaue a call, Made all the Woods to ring withall. Immediatly came little Iohn, And Scathlock followed him anon, With Much the honeſt Millars Sonne. And ere ought elſe could be done, The frollicke Frier came tripping in, His heart vpon a merrie pinne. Maſter (quoth he) in yonder brake, A Deere is hid for Marians ſake, Bid Scathlock, Iohn, or honeſt Brand, That hath the happy hitting hand, Shoote right and haue him. And ſee my Lord The deed performed with the word. For Robin and his Bow-men bolde, Religiouſly did euer holde, Not emptie-handed to be ſeene, Were't but at feaſting on a Greene. Much more then, when ſo high a day Calls our attendance: All we may, Is all too little, tis your grace, To winke at weakeneſſe in this caſe. So fearing to be ouer-long, End all with our olde hunting Song. But good Maſter ere they ſing, Fauour me to moue one thing.