Shirley, James · published 1637 · first performed or written 1632 [licensed for stage, Apr 20] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T13 Knights, squires and ladies · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
They are walked to hear the Nightingale. The Nightingale? I ha' not heard one this year. Listen, and we shall hear one presently, Cuckoo. The bird speaks to you. No 'tis to you. Now do I suspect I shall lose the race. Despair for a Cuckoo. A Cuckoo won't flatter, His word will go before a gentleman's Itt'h City? 'tis an understanding bird And seldom fails, a Cuckoo, I'll hedge in My money presently. For shame be confident. Will you go half. I'll go it all, or any thing. Hang cuckoos then. My Lord, Bonvile, Lacy, and his bride! How now gentlemen? Your honour's servants. Ladies, I kiss your hands. You are the man, will run away with all The gold anon. Your jockey must fly else. I'll hold your honour thirty pieces more. 'tis done. Do you ride yourself. I shall have the Reins in my own hand Lady. Master Rider, saw you not my Cousen. Cry mercy she is here, I thought you'd followed us. Your kinswoman, I shall be honoured to be your servant Lady. Alas my Lord you'll lose by't! What? Honour me being my servant! her's a brace Of gentlemen will tell you as much. But will say nothing for our credits. You look as you had wept. I weep! For what? Come toward the Lodge, and drink a syllabub. A match! And as we walk, Jack Venture thou shalt sing, The song thou mad'st o'th' horses. You shall pardon me. What among friends? my Lord if you'd speak to him. A song by all means, prithee, let me Intreate it, what's the suctect▪ Of all the running horses. Horses and Mares put them together. let's ha''t, come I heard you can sing rarely. An excellent voice. A Ravishing tone. 'tis a very ballad my Lord, and a course tune. The better, why does any tune become A gentleman so well as a ballad, hang Curiosity in music, leave those crotchets To men that get their living with a song, Come come begin. COme Muses all that dwell nigh the fountain, Made by the winged horse's heel, Which firked with his rider over each Mountain, Let me your galloping raptures feel. I do not sing of fleas, or frogs, Nor of the well mouthed hunting dogs. Let me be just all praises must, Be given to well breathed Iilian Thrust. Young Constable and kill deers famous, The Cat the Mouse and Noddy Grey, With nimble Pegabrig you cannot shame us, With Spaniard nor with Spinola. Hill climbing white-rose, praise doth not lack, Handsome Dunbar, and yellow Iack. But if I be just all praises must, Be given to well breathed lilian Thrust. Sure Spurred sloven, true running Robin, Of young shaver I do not say less, Strawberry Soame, and let Spider pop in, Fine Brackly and brave lurching Bess. Victorious too, was herring shotten, And spit in's arse is not forgotten. But if I be just all honour must Be given to well breathed Iilian Thrust.
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)
They are walk't to heare the Nightingale. The Nightingale? I ha not heard one this year ▪ Listen, and we shall heare one presently, Cuckoo. The bird speakes to you. No tis to you. Now do I suspct I shall lose the race. Despaire for a Cuckoo. A Cuckoo wo'not flatter, His word will goe before a gentlmans It'h City? tis an understanding bird And seldome failes, a Cuckoo, Ile hedge in My money presently. For shame be confident. Will you goe halfe. Ile goe it all, or any thing. Hang Cuckoo's then. My Lord, Bonvile, Lacy, and his bride! How now gentlemen? Your honours servants. Ladies, I kisse your hands. You are the man, will run away with all The gold anon. Your Iockey must fly else. Ile hold your honour thirty peeces more. Tis done. Do you ride your selfe. I shall have the Raines in my owne hand Lady. Master Rider, saw you not my Cousen. Cry mercy she is here, I thought y'ad follow'd us. Your kinswoman, I shall be honoured to be your servant Lady. Alas my Lord youle lose by't! What? Honour me being my servant! her's a brace▪ Of gentlemen will tell you as much. But will say nothing for our credits. You looke as you had wept. I weepe! For what? Come toward the Lodge, and drinke a sillabub. A match! And as we walke, Iacke Venture thou shalt sing, The song thou madst ot'h horses. You shall pardon me. What among friends? my Lord if you'd speake to him. A song by all meanes, prethee, let me Intreate it, what's the suctect▪ Of all the running horses. Horses and Mares put them together. Lets ha't, come I heard you can sing rarely. An excellent voyce. A Ravishing tone. Tis a very ballad my Lord, and a course tune. The better, why does any tune become A gntleman so well as a ballad, hang Curiosity in musicke, leave those crotchets To men that get their living with a song, Come come beginne. COme Muses all that dwell nigh the fountaine, Made by the winged horses heele, Which firk'd with his rider over each Mountaine, Let me your galloping raptures feele. I doe not sing of fleas, or frogges, Nor of the well mouth'd hunting dogges. Let me be just all praises must, Be given to well breath'd Iilian Thrust. Young Constable and kill deeres famous, The Cat the Mouse and Noddy Gray, With nimble Pegabrig you cannot shame us, With Spaniard nor with Spinola. Hill climing white-rose, praise doth not lacke, Hansome Dunbar, and yellow Iack. But if I be just all praises must, Be given to well breath'd lilian Thrust. Sure Spurr'd sloven, true running Robin, Of young shaver I doe not say lesse, Strawbery Soame, and let Spider pop in, Fine Brackly and brave lurching Besse. Victorious too, was herring shotten, And spit in's arse is not forgotten. But if I be just all honour must Be given to well breath'd Iilian Thrust.