Rowley, William · published 1638 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1609] (Annals) romance · Prince Charles's Men (first) · Red Bull unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 516 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
Mum, mum boys', As close as my Currier and I in a Tavern On a Monday morning: tut, my Princely Prentice, thy brother knows that I am leather That will hold all waters when he trusts Me with a secret: Hark in thine ear boy, Has got a Wench with child byth' mass. How, a wench with child? Yes, and a great one too: No less than the emperor's daughter, And she's as big as she can tumble: Has entered the best Chamber i'th' Court, Has tickled her shoe-sole for a girl or a boy By this time; and hark once more, She lies in at my house too, but mum; no more words boy. Pray heaven you catch no hurt by it, For the Emperor sends forth wondrous search to find her. No matter, She shall be welcome home whene'er she comes, I hope she's delivered too by this time, For I heard such a Caterwauling, And my wife stirs up and down that she stinks: Nay more, the Beacons were fired on purpose To steal her from Court, and only By the knavery and policy of Gillian Ginger-taile my wife. The accident is strange; See, here comes my Dame and Brother. God's me she's delivered: Ha boy, art come? come hither Crispin, Know ye this Shevaleere? My dearest Brother. I am glad to see you: I hear strange news brother. If from my Master Sir the news did come, 'tis true, and I'll with life maintain. Look here old Sis, Your other Prentice is come. My gentle Dame. Sweet Crispianus, welcome home from the wars; Nay sir, your brother has been in Arms too: Do you you see what exploits has done? Is't a boy wife? A boy I'm sure, Has a Purse and two pence in't: Nay come Sir, you shall kiss your kinsman: Here's his Father's own nose i'faith. A Princely babe, The eye of Heaven look on thee, And mayst thou spread like to the Bay Tree, which the whole year springs, And through this land plant a whole race of Kings. Nor shall he scorn, Till that race be run, To call himself a Prince, Yet a shoemaker's son. Of the Britons' blood, Royal i'faith boys': Let no man therefore henceforth take it scorn, To say a shoemaker's Son was a Prince borne. Good Fate succeed it: Brother my Master hath told all your strange proceedings: Have you heard of the Proclamations? Yes, and mean ere long To use it for my profit. Till when, muff this Son In some dark Cloud, whilst I at Court Wait on the Emperor, that's gone to Meet great Dioclesian; Fortune May turn her Wheel, and we May stand as erst we did, And with our own beams shine. Play you your game at Court, the next tricks mine. And by Saint Hugh, Though I neither shuffle nor cut, I'll hold Cards too. And I'll not fit out, though I turn up Noddy. Work wisely then, and part. Do so till time ripen, which being known, A shoemaker's subtle wit shall then be shown.
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)
Mum, mum boyes, As close as my Currier and I in a Taverne On a munday morning: tut, my Princely Prentse, thy brother knowes that I am leather That will hold all waters when he trusts Me with a secret: Harke in thine eare boy, Has got a Wench with child byth' masse. How, a wench with child? Yes, and a great one too: No lesse than the Emperours daughter, And shee's as bigge as shee can tumble: Has entred the best Chamber ith' Court, Has tickled her shooesole for a girle or a boy By this time; and harke once more, She lyes in at my house too, but mum; no more words boy. Pray heaven you catch no hurt by it, For the Emperour sends forth wondrous search to find her. No matter, She shall be welcome home when e're she comes, I hope shee's deliver'd too by this time, For I heard such a Catterwalling, And my wife stirres up and downe that she stinkes: Nay more, the Beacons were fired on purpose To steale her from Court, and onely By the knavery and policy of Gillian Ginger-taile my wife. The accident is strange; See, here comes my Dame and Brother. Gods me shee's delivered: Ha boy, art come? come hither Crispine, Know yee this Shevaleere? My dearest Brother. I am glad to see you: I heare strange newes brother. If from my Master Sir the newes did come, Tis true, and Ile with life maintaine. Looke here old Sis, Your other Prentise is come. My gentle Dame. Sweete Crispianus, welcome home from the warres; Nay sir, your brother has beene in Armes too: Doe you you see what exployts has done? Is't a boy wife? A boy I'me sure, Has a Purse and two pence in't: Nay come Sir, you shall kisse your kinseman: Here's his Fathers owne nose yfaith. A Princely babe, The eye of Heaven looke on thee, And maist thou spread like to the Bay Tree, which the whole yeare springs, And through this land plant a whole race of Kings. Nor shall he scorne, Till that race be runne, To call himselfe a Prince, Yet a Shooe-makers sonne. Of the Brittaines blood, Royall yfaith boyes: Let no man therefore henceforth take it scorne, To say a shooe-makers Sonne was a Prince borne. Good Fate succeede it: Brother my Master hath told all your strange proceedings: Have you heard of the Proclamations? Yes, and meane ere long To use it for my profit. Till when, mufe this Sonne In some darke Cloud, whilst I at Court Waite on the Emperour, that's gone to Meete great Dioclesian; Fortune May turne her Wheele, and wee May stand as erst wee did, And with our owne beames shine. Play you your game at Court, the next trick's mine. And by Saint Hugh, Though I neither shuffle nor cut, Ile hold Cards too. And Ile not fit out, though I turne up Noddy. Worke wisely then, and part. Doe so till time ripen, which being knowne, A Shooe-makers subtile wit shall then be shewne.