Nabbes, Thomas · published 1638 · first performed or written 1638 (Annals) comedy · Prince Charles's Men (second) (?); King's Revels Company (?) · Salisbury Court T16 Gallantry: ladies, lordships and complim typicality 0.76 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T16: lady, madam, gentleman, lordship, ladies, honour, mistress, sweet, court, servant.
New fears assault me. 'Tis a woman's voice. She sings; and in her music's cheerfulness Seems to express the freedom of a heart Not chained to any passions. Be propitious Thou regent o'er my fate, and guide her hither Unto my comfort. What a dainty life the milkmaid leads? When over the flowery meads She dabbles in the dew, And sings to her Cow; And feels not the pain Of love or disdain. She sleeps in the night, though she toils in the day; And merrily passeth her time away. What a blessed state is this? the mind's content sweetens all sufferings of th'afflicted sense. Those that are bred in labour think it sport Above the soft delights which wanton appetite Begets for others, whom indulgent fortune Prefers in her degrees; though equal nature Made all alike. Oh, might I change my misery For such a shape of quiet. She comes this way. He venture to accost her. Ha! what silken butterfly's yonder! she looks not like one that had kept herself warm all night at the brick-kilns: yet silk petticoats many times are glad with worse lodging. Good morrow maid. Should I salute you so, 'twould bring my wit in question. Pray you what are you? A distressed maid. A maid at your years, and so near London; where the state of one at 15. is as rate as a light wench's conversion. Never an early walking gallant to take you up this morning! The Park here hath fine conveniences: or Tottenham Court's close by: 'tis suspected that fine City Ladies give away fine things to Court Lords for a Country Banquet there. I cannot construe it; my innocence makes understanding useless. Good maid, wife or widow (for sure you are a woman) do a courteous office to your sex in me, and guide me to London. It seems you are a kind Country Gentlewoman, that have bestowed your Maidenhead on your Father's servingman, and are come up to have a Citizen fodder your broken ware. The policy is grown stale: 'twould hardly take ever since the Ballad cursed the Carrier that brought her to town. Y'are a bad woman sure: and from th'abundance of you own foul ills suspect all others. The to, is angry, it would fain counterfeit something: perhaps to insinuate herself, and make me her agent. But you are deceived my pretty morsel of wantonness; myself and my Milkpail are both honest: I have no disguised tone of Come, or three penny thrip to cloak a procuress. I am not the Blade's intelligence whether Frank or Moll remove their lodgings to scape the Constable's search and Bridewell. I will to my Cows, and leave you to the fate of the morning: despair not of a customer; but be sure I catch you not napping; for if I do, I have less mercy than Prentices at Shrovetide. I hate hedge-coupling worse than fasting at Christmas, or a Puritans long Grace over short Commons.
seed 43: T5 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
New feares assault me. 'Tis a womans voyce. She sings; and in her muscks cheerefulnesse Seemes to expresse the freedome of a heart Not chain'd to any passions. Be propitious Thou regent o're my fate, and guide her hither Vnto my comfort. What a dainty life the milke-maid leads? When ov the flowry meades She dabbles in the dewe, And sings to her Cowe; And feeles not the paine Of love or disdaine. She sleepes in the night, though she toyles in the day; And merrily passeth her time away. What a blest state is this? the minds content Sweeten's all sufferings of th'afflicted sense. Those that are bred in labour thinke it sport Aboue the soft delights which wanton appetite Begets or others, whom indulgent fortune Prefers in her degrees; though equall nature Made all alike. Oh, might I change my misery For such a shape of quiet. She comes this way. He venture to accost her. Ha! what silken butterfly's yonder! Shee looks not like one that had kept her selfe warme all night at the Brick-kils: yet silke petticoates many times are glad with worse lodging. Good morrow maid. Should I salute you so, 'twould bring my wit in question. Pray you what are you? A distrest maid. A maid at your years, and so neere London; where the tate of one at 15. is as rate a a light wenches conversion. Never an early walking gallant to take you up this morning! The Parke here hath fine conveniences: or Totenham Court's close by: Tis suspected that fine Citie Ladies give away fine things to Court Lords for a Countrey Banquet there. I cannot constue it; my innocenc makes understanding uselesse. Good mayd, wife or widdow (for sure you are a woman) doe a courteous office to your sexe in me, and guide me to London. It seems you are a kinde Countrey Gentlewoman, that have bestow'd your Maidenhead on your Fathers servingman, and are come up to have a Citizen foder your brokn ware. The pollicie is growne stale: 'twould hardly take ever since the Ballad curst the Carrier that brought her o towne. Y'are a bad woman sure: and from th'aboundance of you owne foule ils suspect all others. The to, is angry, it would faine counterfeit something: perhaps to insinuate her selfe, and make me her agent. But you are deceiv'd my pretty morfell of wantonnesse; my selfe and my Milke-paile are both honest: I have no disguis'd tone of Come, or three penny thrip to cloake a procurese. I am not the Blades intelligence whether Franke or Moll remove their lodgings to scape the Constables search and Bridewell. I will to my Cowes, and leave you to the fate of the morning: despaire not of a customer; but be sure I catch you not napping; for if I doe, I have lesse mercy then Prentices at Shrovetide. I hate hedge-coupling worse then fasting at Christmas, or a Puritans long Grace over short Commons.