Drue, Thomas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1624 [licensed for stage, Jan 2] (Annals) history · Prince Palatine's (Palsgrave's) Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.73 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Look you stand sure Lord Bonner, for I hope, Anon you'll need a bucket, and a rope. Keep close together, lest you lose your train, My bark is ready to receive you straight, That way you need must take, I'll not be seen, Heaven be your guide, with me you have not been. Good sir farewell, my prayers on you attend, I will report you for a PRINCE's friend. Stand, trust me and keep on, whate'er you see shrink not, away begone, My Lord they come, they come, away, away. Help, help, for heaven's sake help. My Lord is in the well. A rope for Bishop Bonner, Clunie run, Call help, a rope, or we are all undone. I'll to the watch for help. Help, help, good Fox. Soft Bonner, not too fast Here is no coming out till they be past, My arms too short my Lord, a rope is coming. Here in this well, ropes, ropes my masters. By this they are far enough, Well done my Masters, lends your hands, Draw Dun out of the ditch. Draw, pull, help all, so, so, well done. Oh Fox oh Clunie, oh my Masters all, I am almost drowned, oh lead me to some fire. Oh Fox, what meanest thou to rush with such rude force. What would you have me do, I saw them coming, And I had not the power to stay myself. And are they passed. What stand you trifling here, what seek you for? If for the Duchess, if for Doctor Sands, For Cranwell, and the rest, they in disguise, Are got aboard a Ship, and with full sails, Fly from the Shore. Thou tell'st me a sad tale, Post Fox, run Clunie, hire a bark with speed, Goseling we were suspicious of thy faith, But by this message, thou hast cleared thyself, See Goseling, I am almost drowned. I am sorry for your honour, that you 'scaped. Tush we trifle time in their vain pursuit, Thou shalt have gold Fox; Clunie, thou reward, Help me to fire good Goseling, Fox away, We lose much expedition by thy stay. I'll after them my Lord. May all things prosper to thy hearts desire, Come Goseling, prithee lead me to a fire. And as I told you sir, with that excuse, I grounded this my colourable passage, And sent a ship, which stays for her at Lee, Where by appointment she had promised meeting, But She is so watched, so guarded, and so bar, Of her true servants presence and access, That I despair of her arrival here. Good M. Bertie, cheer your drooping thoughts, We are Walloons, but in subjection, And strict obedience to the church of Rome, Rewards and promises, are sent abroad, To every foreign Prince, and Burgomaster, To stay the Duchess, for the rumor runs, She is escaped already from her house. 'tis very certain M. Pericell, Now shall we hear some news, Here's Doctor Sands.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Looke you stand sure Lord Bonner, for I hope, Anon youe neede a bucket, and a rope. Keepe close together, lest you loose your trayne, My barke is ready to receaue you straight, That way you neede must take, Ile not be seene, Heaven be your guide, with me you haue not bin. Good sir farewell, my prayers on you attend, I will report you for a Princes friend. Stand, trust me and keepe on, What ere you see shrinke not, away begon, My Lord they come, they come, away, away. Helpe, helpe, for heavens sake helpe. My Lord is in the well. A rope for Bishop Bonner, Clunie run, Call helpe, a rope, or we are all vndone. Ile to the watch for helpe. Helpe, helpe, good Fox. Soft Bonner, not too fast Heere is no comming out till they be past, My armes too short my Lord, a rope is comming. Heere in this well, ropes, ropes my masters. By this they are far enough, Well done my Masters, lends your hands, Draw Du out of the ditch. Draw, pull, helpe all, so, so, well done. Oh Fox oh Clunie, oh my Masters all, I am almost drown'd, oh lead me to some fire. Oh Fox, what meanest thou to rush with such rude force. What would you haue me doe, I saw them comming, And I had not the power to stay my selfe. And are they past. What stand you trifeling here, what seeke you for? If for the Dutches, if for Doctor Sands, For Cranwell, and the rest, they in disguise, Are got abord a Ship, and with full sailes, Flye from the Shore. Thou telst me a sad tale, Post Fox, run Clunie, hire a arke with speede, Goseling we were suspitious of thy faith, But by this message, thou hast cleer'd thy selfe, See Goseling, I am almost drownd. I am sorry for your honor, that you scap't. Tush we trifle time in their vaine pursute, Thou shalt haue gold Fox; Clunie, thou reward, Helpe me to fire good Goseling, Fox away, We loose much expedition by thy stay. Ile after them my Lord. May all things prosper to thy hearts desire, Come Goseling, prethee lead me to a fire. And as I told you sir, with that excuse, I grounded this my colorable passage, And sent a ship, which staies for her at Lee, Where by appointment she had promis'd meeting, But She is so watcht, so guarded, and so bard, Of her true servants presence and accesse, That I despaire of her arrivall here. Good M. Bertie, cheere your drooping thoughts, We are Walloones, but in subiection, And strict obedience to the church of Rome, Rewards and promises, are sent abroad, To every forreine Prince, and Burgomaster, To stay the Dutches, for the rumor runns, She is escapt already from her house. Tis very certaine M. Pericell, Now shall we heare some newes, Here's Doctor Sands.