Britannia Triumphans (Britain Triumphing) · chunk 5 of 7
Davenant, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1638 [licensed for performance, Jan 8] (Annals) not in BritDrama · before the Court T13 Knights, squires and ladies typicality 0.79 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
They come, in's rage he spurns up huge tree roots, Now stick to Lady Knight, and up with boots. Bold recr'ant wight! what Fate did hither call thee, To tempt his strength, that hath such power to maul thee? How durst thy puling Damsel hither wander? What was the talk you by yond hedge did maunder? Patience sweet man of might! alas Heaven knows We only hither came to gather sloes, And Bullies two or three; for truth to tell ye I've longed six weeks with these to fill my belly: I' fecks if you'll believe't, nought else was meant sure By this our jaunt, which Errants call Adventure. Shall I grow meek as Babe when every Trull is So bold to steal my sloes and pluck my bullies? Fear not! let him storm on, and still grow rougher, Thou that art bright as candle cleared by snuffer, Canst ne'er endure a blemish or Eclipse From such a hooked nose foul mouthed Bobber lips: Ere he shall boast, he used thee thus to's People, I'll see him first hanged high as any steeple. If I but upward heave my oaken Twig, I'll teach thee play the Tomboy, her the Rig, Within my Forest bounds: what doth she ail But she may serve as Cook to dress my whale? In this her Damsels tire and robe of sarsenet She shall souse boar, fry tripes, and wild hog's harsnet. O monster vile, thou mighty ill bred Lubber, Art thou not moved to see her whine and blubber? Shall Damsel fair (as thou must needs confess her) With Canvas apron, dress thy meat at dresser? Shall she that is of soft and pliant mettle, Whose finger's silk would gall, now scour a Kettle? Though not to scuffle given, now I'll thwart thee, Let Blouse thy daughter serve for shillings forty. 'tis meeter (I think) such ugly baggages Should in a Kitchen drudge for yearly wages, Than gentle She who hath been bred to stand near chair of Queen with Island shock in hand. At Questions and commands, all night to play, And Amber Possits eat at break of Day, Or score out Husbands in the charcoal ashes. With Courtly Knights, not roaring country swashes, Hath been her breeding still, and's more fit far To play on Virginals, and the guitar, Than stir a seacole fire, or scum a Cauldron, When thou shalt break thy fast on a bull's cauldron. Then I perceive I must lift up my Pole, And deal your love-sick noddle such a dole That every blow shall make so huge a clatter, Men ten leagues off shall ask, Hah! what's the matter? Kind grumbling youth! I know that thou art able, And want of breeding makes thee prone to squabble, Yet sure thy Nature doth compunction mean Though ('las) thy mother was a sturdy Quean: Let not meek lovers kindle thy fierce wrath, But keep thy blustering breath to cool thy broth.
seed 43: T20 · seed 44: T17 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
They come, in's rage he spurn's up huge tree roots, Now stick to Lady Knight, and up with boots. Bold recr'ant wight! what Fate did hither call thee, To tempt his strength, that hath such power to maule thee? How durst thy puling Damsell hither wander? What was the talke you by yon'd hedge did maunder? Patience sweet man of might! alas Heaven knowes We onely hither came to gather sloes, And Bullies two or three; for truth to tell ye I've long'd six weeks with these to fill my belly: I' fecks if you'l beleev't, nought else was meant sure By this our Iaunt, which Errants call Adventure. Shall I grow meeke as Babe when ev'ry Trull is So bold to steale my sloes and pluck my bullyes? Feare not! let him storme on, and still grow rougher, Thou that art bright as candle cleer'd by snuffer, Canst n'ere endure a blemish or Eclipse From such a hookt nose foule mouth'd Bobber lips: Ere he shall boast, he us'd thee thus to's People, I'le see him first hang'd high as any steeple. If I but upward heave my aken Twig, Ile teach thee play the Tom-boy, her the Rig, Within my Forest bounds: what doth shee aile But shee may serve as Cooke to dresse my whale? In this her Damsels tire and robe of sarcenet Shee shall souce bore, fry tripes, and wild hogs harsnet. O monster vile, thou mighty ill bred Lubber, Art thou not mov'd to see her whine and blub ber? Shall Damsell faire (as thou must needs confesse her) With Canvas apron, dresse thy meat at dresser? Shall shee that is of soft and pliant mettle, Whose Fingers silke would gaule, now scowre a Kettle? Though not to scuffle giv'n, now Ile thwart thee, Let Blowze thy daughter serve for shillings forty. T'is meeter (I thinke) such ugly baggages Should in a Kitchin drudge for yearly wages, Than gentle Shee who hath been bred to stand Neere chaire of Queene with Island shock in hand. At Questions and commands, all night to play, And Amber Possits eat at breake of Day, Or score out Husbands in the charcole ashes. With Courtly Knights, not roaring country swashes, Hath beene her breeding still, and's more fit far To play on Virginals, and the Gittar, Than stir a seacole fire, or scumme a Cauldron, When thou shalt breake thy fast on a buls Chaudron. Then I perceive I must lift up my Pole, And deale your love-sick noddle such a dole That ev'ry blow shall make so huge a clatter, Men ten leagues off shall aske, Hah! what's the matter? Kind grumbling youth! I know that thou art able, And want of breeding makes thee prone to squable, Yet sure thy Nature doth compunction meane Though ('las) thy mother was a sturdy Queane: Let not meeke lovers kindle thy fierce wrath, But keepe thy blustring breath to coole thy broth.