Heywood, Thomas · published 1633 · first performed or written c.1627 (Annals) tragicomedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 498 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
A Pint of claret, quickly. Nay, sit down: The news, the news, I pray thee; I am sure, I have been much inquired of Thy old Master, and thy young Mistress too. Ever your name is in my Master's mouth, and sometimes too In hers, when she hath nothing else to think of: Well well, I could say somewhat. here's your wine Sir. Fill Boy: Here Bess, this glass to both their healths; Why dost weep my wench? Nay, nothing Sir. Come, I must know. Intruth I love you Sir, And ever wished you well; You are a Gentleman, Whom always I respected; Know the passages And private whisperings, of the secret love Betwixt you and my Mistress; I dare swear, On your part well intended: But— But what? You bear the name of Landlord, but another Enjoys the rent; You dote upon the shadow, But another he bears away the substance. be more plain. You hope to enjoy a virtuous widowhood; But Dalavill, whom you esteem you friend, He keeps the wife in common. Y'are too blame, And Bess, you make me angry; he's my friend, And she my second self; In all their meetings, I never saw so much as cast of eye Once entertained betwixt them. That's their cunning. For her; I have been with her at all hours, Both late and early; In her bedchamber. And often singly ushered her abroad: Now, would she have been any man's alive, She had been mine; You wrong a worthy Friend, And a chaste Mistress, y'are not a good Girl; Drink that speak better of her, I could chide you, But I'll forbear; What you have rashly spoke, Shall ever here be buried. I am sorry my freeness should offend you, But yet know, I am her Chambermaid. Play now the Market-maid. And prithee 'bout thy business. Well, I shall— that man should be so fooled. she a Prostitute? Nay, and to him my troth plight, and my Friend; As possible it is, that Heaven and Earth Should be in love together, meet and kiss, And so cut off all distance: What strange frenzy Came in this wench's brain, so to surmise? Were she so base? his nobleness is such, He would not entertain it for my sake: Or he so bent? His hot and lust burnt appetite Would be soon quenched, at the mere contemplation Of her most Pious and Religious life. The Girl was much too blame; Perhaps her Mistress Hath stirred her anger, by some word or blow, Which she would thus revenge; Not apprehending At what a high price Honour's to be rated; Or else some one that envies her rare virtue, Might hire her thus to brand it; Or, who knows But the young wench may fix a thought on me; And to divert me from her Mistress love, May raise this false aspersion? howsoever, My thoughts on these two columns fixed are, She's good as fresh, and purely chaste as fair.
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)
A Pint of Clarret, quickly. Nay, sit downe: The newes, the newes, I pray thee; I am sure, I haue beene much enquir'd of Thy old Master, and thy young Mistris too. Euer your name is in my Masters mouth, and sometimes too In hers, when she hath nothing else to thinke of: Well well, I could say somewhat. Heerc's your wine Sir. Fill Boy: Here Besse, this glasse to both their healths; Why do'st weepe my wench? Nay, nothing Sir. Come, I must know. Introath I loue you Sir, And euer wisht you well; You are a Gentleman, Whom alwayes I respected; Know the passages And priuate whisperings, of the secret loue Betwixt you and my Mistris; I dare sweare, On your part well intended: But— But what? You beare the name of Land-lord, but another Inioyes the rent; You doate vpon the shadow, But another he beares away the substance. Bee more plaine. You hope to inioy a vertuous widdow-hood; But Dalauill, whom you esteeme you friend, Hee keepes the wife in common. Y' are too blame, And Besse, you make me angry; Hee's my friend, And she my second selfe; In all their meetings, I neuer saw so much as cast of eye Once entertain'd betwixt them. That's their cunning. For her; I haue beene with her at all houres, Both late and early; In her bed-chamber. And often singly vsher'd her abroad: Now, would she haue bin any mans aliue, Shee had bin mine; You wrong a worthy Friend, And a chaste Mistris, y'are not a good Girle; Drinke that speake better of her, I could chide you, But I'le forbeare; What you haue rashly spoke, Shall euer heere be buried. I am sorry my freenesse should offend you, But yet know, I am her Chamber-maid. Play now the Market-maid. And prethee bout thy businesse. Well, I shall—that man should be so fool'd. Shee a Prostitute? Nay, and to him my troath plight, and my Friend; As possible it is, that Heauen and Earth Should be in love together, meet and kisse, And so cut off all distance: What strange frensie Came in this wenches braine, so to surmise? Were she so base? his noblenesse is such, He would not entertaine it for my sake: Or he so bent? His hot and lust burnt appetite Would be soone quencht, at the meere contemplation Of her most Pious and Religious life. The Girle was much too blame; Perhaps her Mistris Hath stirr'd her anger, by some word or blow, Which she would thus reuenge; Not apprehending At what a high price Honour's to be rated; Or else some one that enuies her rare vertue, Might hire her thus to brand it; Or, who knowes But the yong wench may fixe a thought on me; And to diuert me from her Mistris loue, May raise this false aspersion? howsoeuer, My thoughts on these two columnes fixed are, She's good as fresh, and purely chaste as faire.