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 0.77 · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Doubtless he's of a most pernicious spirit, But he that hath restrained his envious rage, And hitherto repulsed him, still will curb him. I trust he will, Cranwell I prithee step, And listen from the women what good news. Pray save that labour, we can bring the news. Welcome good Doctor Sands, What; in good health? Sir, thanks to heaven, who never leaues his o Nor suffers them to perish in distress. How fares the Duchess. Gentle host resolve me. Happy and well, cheer your declining thoughts, Well that her perilous conflict hath an end, And happy that to comfort her withal, There's borne this day a young Lord Willobie. A Boy. A goodly Boy M. Bertie. And one in whom already doth appear, These signs of Courage, to revenge your wrongs. Good heaven I thank thee, This your news dear friend, Is as a summons after death to life, the preservation Of his mother in travel, was wondrous strange, The place where he is borne is strange, The loving hands, that did first entertain His presence to this pilgrimage of life, Are likewise strange, then as his birth hath been, So shall his name, we'll call him Peregrine. A stranger to his Country by that name, But by his deeds hereafter time may prove, None more adventured for his country's love. As it please his stars, but soft, What Drum is this, some gall I fear, To intermix our sweet, Some sorrow to confound this sudden joy. Your servant Fox did vow to bring you word, If any hurt were secretly pretended. Is Fox arrived, upon what cause, Is Fox arrived, upon what cause Is he passed over, do you know gentle sir. Himself make answer for himself. Sir, be not you dismayed, in brief these drums, And those that after these sad Music dance, Are none that wish you, nor the Duchess good, A Captain sent from England, and the bloodhound Clunie, With them the Duke of Brunswick, clad in arms, And at the least, ten Ensigns after him, These howe'er they vizard their intents, With other colour, as to vex the Emperor, Yet their whole purpose, is to look for you, The gates, and walls, are every way beset, And through the Town, a privy search begun, And but you presently devise some means, To scape from hence, they'll take you in your lodging. Escape, there's now no time to talk of scape, No, no, the secret providence of heaven, Hath so ordained, we should be Bonner's thrall, And welcome wished death, the end of all. My mind presageth of a better speed. What M. Bertie why not now escape, As well as heretofore. How can that be, The painful Duchess, lying now in Childbed. Is there no art, no means to blind their eyes. You are so many of you, 'tis impossible, Besides the Duchess, she cannot remove. Oh, were she safe, I cared not for my life. Nor I for mine.
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Doubtlesse hees of a most pernitious spirit, But he that hath restrain'd his envious rage, And hitherto repulst him, still will curbe him. I trust he will, Cranwell I prethee step, And listen from the women what good newes. Pray saue that labour, we can bring the newe Welcome good Doctor Sands, What; in good health? Sir, thanks to heaven, who never leaues his o Nor suffers them to perish in distresse. How fares the Dutches. Gentle host resolue me. Happy and well, cheere your declining thoug Well that her perillous conflict hath an end, And happy that to comfort her withall, Theres borne this day a young Lord Willobie. A Boy. A goodly Boy M. Bertie. And one in whom already doth appeare, These signes of Courage, to revenge your wrongs. Good heaven I thanke thee, This your newes deere friend, Is as a summons after death to life, the preservation Of his mother in travell, was wonderous strange, The place where he is borne is strange, The loving hands, that did first entertayne His presence to this pilgrimage of life, Are likewise strange, then as his birth hath bin, So shall his name, weele call him Peregrine. A stranger to his Countrey by that name, But by his deeds hereafter time may prooue, None more adventured for his Countreys loue. As it please his starres, but soft, What Drum is this, some galle I feare, To intermix our sweete, Some sorrow to confound this sudden jioy. Your servant Fox did vow to bring you word, If any hurt were secretly pretended. Is Fox arived, vpon what cause, Is Fox arived, vpon what cause Is he past over, doe you know gentle sir. Himselfe make answer for himselfe. Sir, be not you dismayd, in breife these drums, And those that after these sad Musicke daunce, Are none that wish you, nor the Dutches good, A Captayne sent from England, and the bloodhound Clunie, With them the Duke of Brunswicke, clad in armes, And at the least, ten Ensignes after him, These how ere they vizard their intents, With other colour, as to vexe the Emperour, Yet their whole purpose, is to looke for you, The gates, and walls, are every way beset, And through the Towne, a privy search begun, And but you presently devise some meanes, To scape from hence, theyle take you in your lodging. Escape, theres now no time to talke of scape, No, no, the secret providence of heaven, Hath so ordain'd, we should be Bonners thrall, And welcome wished death, the end of all. My mind presageth of a better speed. What M. Bertie why not now escape, As well as heeretofore. How can that be, The painefull Dutches, lying now in Child-bed. Is there no art, no meanes to blind their eyes. You are so many of you, tis impossible, Besides the Dutches, she cannot remooue. Oh, were she safe, I car'd not for my life. Nor I for mine.