Dekker, Thomas · published 1636 · first performed or written 1631 [1619-1631] (Annals) comedy · Prince Charles's Men (first) (?) unassigned nearest T57 Ships, merchants and pirates · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T57: ship, sea, master, sail, home, money, pisaro, life, ships, till.
Some of all sorts you have Let me have more Than the grand Signior, And my change as rare, Tall, low, and middle size, the brown, and fair; I'd give a PRINCE's ransom now to kiss Black Cleopatra's cheek; Only to drink A richer pearl, than that of Anthony's, That Fame (where his name stands) might put down mine. Oh that my Mother had been Paris Whore, And I had lived to see a Troy on fire, So that by that brave light, I might have danced But one Lavalto with my Courtesan. Pattern of all perfection breathed in man, There's one without, before your Excellence Desires access. What creature? Your own brother, At least he terms himself so. Is he brave? he's new come from Sea. 'Tis true, that Iason rigged out a Fleet to fetch the Golden-Fleece; 'Tis a brave boy, all Elemental fire, His ships are great with Child of Turkish Treasure, And here shall be delivered; marshal him in Like the seas proud commander give our charge— Sound drums, and trumpets, for my Lord away. Thou whoreson peasant, know me, burn that windfall, It comes not to my head that drops so low,— Another Hats for my Lord,— hats brought in 3. or 4. It smells of earth, stood it again so high, My head would on a dunghill seem to lie. How now? what scarecrow's this? Scarecrow? thy brother, His blood clear as thine own, but that it smokes not, With perfumed fires as thine doth. Has the poor snake, a sting; can he hiss? What begs the rogue for? Vengeance From the just thunderer to throw Lucifer down; How high soever thou rearest thy Babell-browes, To thy confusion I this language speak: I am thy father's son. Ha, ha, the Skipper raves. The awed Venetian on St. Marks proud-day, Never went forth to marry the rich-sea, With casting in her lap a ring of gold; In greater bravery than myself did fraught, A fleet of gallant youthful Florentines, All vowed to rescue Rhodes, from Turkish-slavery: We went and waded up in our own bloods, Till most of us were drowned. Fair riddance on you. Where such a Peacock durst not spread his plumes; We fought and those that fell left Monuments Of unmatched valour to the whole race of man, They that were ta'en, ('mongst whom myself was chief) Were three years chained up to the tugging o'er, See here the relics of that misery, Chains, If thou wouldst know more, read it on my back, Printed with the bulls-pizzle. Hang the dog. What tellest thou me of pizzles? 'Tis thy brother tells thee so, note me. I know thee not; Set mastiffs on him, worry him from my gates. The first unhappy breath I drew, moved here, And here I'll spend my last, ere braved from hence, Here I'll have meat and clothes. Kick the cur out.
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)
Some of all sorts you have Let me have more Then the grand Signior, And my change as rare, Tall, low, and middle size, the browne, and faire; Ide give a Princes ransome now to kisse Blacke Cleopatra's cheeke; Onely to drinke A richer perle, then that of Anthonyes, That Fame (where his name stands) might put downe mine. Oh that my Mother had bin Paris Whore, And I had liv'd to see a Troy on fire, So that by that brave light, I might have danc'd But one Lavalto with my Curtezan. Patterne of all perfection breath'd in man, There's one without, before your Excellence Desires accesse. What creature? Your owne brother, At least hee termes himselfe so. Is he brave? Hee's new come from Sea. 'Tis true, that Iason Rig'd out a Fleete to fetch the Golden-Fleece; 'Tis a brave boy, all Elementall fire, His shipps are great with Child of Turkish Treasure, And heere shall be delivered; marshall him in Like the seas proud commander give our charge— Sound drums, and trumpets, for my Lord away. Thou whorson pesant, know me, burne that wind-fall, It comes not to my head that drops so low,—Another Hatts for my Lord,—Hatt's brought in 3. or 4. It smells of earth, stood it againe so high, My head would on a dung-hill seeme to lie. How now? what scar-crow's this? Scar-crow? thy brother, His bloud cleare as thine owne, but that it smoakes not, With perfum'd fiers as thine doth. Has the poore snake, a sting; can he hisse? What beggs the rogue for? Vengeance From the just thunderer to throw Lucifer downe; How high so ever thou rearest thy Babell-browes, To thy confusion I this language speake: I am thy fathers sonne. Ha, ha, the Skipper raves. The aw'd Venetian on St. Markes proud-day, Never went forth to marry the rich-sea, With casting in her lapp a ring of gold; In greater bravery then my selfe did freight, A fleete of gallant youthfull Florentines, All vow'd to rescew Rhodes, from Turkish-slavery: We went and waded up in our owne bloods, Till most of us were drown'd. Faire riddance on you. Where such a Peacock durst not spread his plumes; We fought and those that fell left Monuments Of unmatch't valour to the whole race of man, They that were ta'ne, (mongst whom my selfe was chiefe) Were three yeeres chain'd up to the tugging o're, See here the relicts of that misery, Chaines, If thou wu'd'st know more, reade it on my backe, Printed with the Bulls-peezele. Hang the dogge. What tellest thou me of Peezeles? 'Tis thy brother tells thee so, note me. I know thee not; Set mastives on him, worry him from my gates. The first unhappy breath I drew, mov'd heere, And here I'le spend my last, e're brav'd from hence, Heere I'le have meate and cloaths. Kick the curre out.