Drue, Thomas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1624 [licensed for stage, Jan 2] (Annals) history · Prince Palatine's (Palsgrave's) Men unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
The Queene is neere and deere vnto my bl In the remembrance of our mother's loves, Which chargeth greater sorrow at my heart, Than the huge shock of their malignant threats; My soul hath lodged the Truth, it shall not thence, Whilst this weak flesh displays her airy sense. But Madam, let your wisdom shut her up, Commit her not unto your state to guard, But humble your high spirit, sleike your speech, That envy may not stumble at mistrust, Or find a rub to start suspicion: Wear a smooth brow in presence of your foes, Be shaken with their threats, retreat your spirit, Till they insult upon your patience: The Conquest won in your submission, They slake the eager pursuit of revenge, To give you time to purvey for your scape; You know my leave of passage o'er the seas, And with what cunning I have coloured it, To free my conscience from the gale of fear. But still leave mine upon the rock of care. I go to seek releasement of that care, Freely to spread the ensign of your Faith: A simple, rustic home of liberty, Is worth your honours in captivity. It is, it is, and would befit our hues, To wear them out in contemplation: There should we read, upon the naked walls, The first creation of our wretchedness; There no intruding objects of gay clothes, Embroidered hangings, or rich tapestry, Shall wound the service which we owe to heaven. Oh M. Bertie, there my wish would be; Change honoured woe for poor felicity. I'll lay a Bark at Leigh shall stay for you, To be transported to me at Midelborow. But who conducts me to that Bark at Leigh? Fear is a trusty guide, it is, it is, She that knows no way, that way will not miss, I prithee go, my Conscience to set free, My tender feet shall learn to follow thee. I go. Yet stay, nay go, alas which way? And must we part? We must, My body's here, thou hast my heart along with thee Make much o''nt prithee, till we meet again, M body and my soule you both retayne. Slip not my duty, I beseech your love, To her for whom my sorrows shed more tears, Then is my wounded Conscience charged with fears. Patience, good Madam. Passion Master Bertie, spleen is wounded with compassionate pity, I could drop out my Liver, rob my life Of her dear essence, with immoderate sighs, For that sweet Princes, wronged Elizabeth; Now in the gripe of their pernicious hate, A guard of Angels ring her life about, From the malicious practice of her foes; Rebate their furies, cross their treacherous ways, Let truth in her outlive these bloody days. Amen, amen, what shall I deliver to her from your grace? A comfortable salutation To that heart sorrowing Lady which my prayer From heaven has carried to her heart before.
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)
The Queene is neere and deere vnto my bl In the remembrance of our mothers loues, Which chargeth greater sorrow at my heart, Then the huge shocke of their malignant threats; My oule hath lodg'd the Trueth, it shall not thence, Whil'st this weake flesh displayes her ayrie sence. But Madam, let your wisedome shut her vp, Commit her not vnto your state to guard, But humble your hie spirit, sleike your speech, That envy may not stumble at mistrust, Or find a rub to start suspition: Weare a smoth brow in presence of your foes, Be shaken with their threats, retreat your spirit, Till they insult vpon your patience: The Conquest won in your submission, They slake the eager pursue of revenge, To giue you time to purve for your scape; You know my leaue of passage ore the seas, And with what cunning I haue color'd it, To free my conscience from the gaile of feare. But still leaue mine vpon the rocke of care. I goe to seeke releasement of that care, Freely to spread the ensigne of your Faith: A simple, rusticke home of liberty, Is worth your honors in captivity. It is, it is, and would befit our ues, To weare them out in contemplation: There should we read, vpon the naked walls, The first creation of our wretchednesse; There no intruding obiects of gaie clothes, Imbrodered hangings, or rich tapistrie, Shall wound the seruice which we owe to heaven. Oh M. Bertie, there my wish would be; Change honor'd woe for poore felicity. Ile lay a Barke at Leigh shall stay for you, To be transported to me at Midelborow. But who conducts me to that Barke at Leigh? Feare is a trusty guide, it is, it is, Shee that knowes no way, that way will not misse, I prethee goe, my Conscience to set free, My tender feet shall learne to follow thee. I goe. Yet stay, nay goe, alas which way? And must we part? We must, My bodies heee, thou hast my heart along with thee Make much o't prethee, till we mete againe, M body and my soule you both retayne. Slip not my duty, I beseech your loue, To her for whom my sorrowes shed more teares▪ Then is my wounded Conscience charg'd with feares. Patience, good Madam. Passion Master Bertie, M splne is wounded with compassionate pitty, I could drop out my Liver, ob my life Of her deere essence, with immoderate sighes, For that sweete Princes, wrong'd Elizbeth▪ Now in the gripe of their pernitious hate, A guard of Angels ring her life about, From the malitious practise of her foes; Rebate their furies, crosse their treacherous wayes, Let truth in her outliue these bloody dayes. Amen, amen, what shall I deliver to her from A comfortable salutation To that heart sorrowing Lady which my prayer From heaven has carried to her heart before.