The Seven Champions of Christendom · chunk 22 of 43
Kirke, John · published 1638 · first performed or written 1635 [1634-1638] (Annals) romance · Red Bull Company (second) · Red Bull unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
That's more than e'er I heard of i'faith, that soldiers want stomachs: what enemies do they meet with there? Why Barrels of Beer, bottles of Sack, costermongers, Cakes, and Cream, and their wives that bring 'em their dinner. I marry sir, I would willingly be put into such service; sure, their Commanders are brave fellows. The bravest can be picked out in each parish, and the ablest too, yet I heard one man in the shape of a Monster, put a Captain and his Company to slight. O monstrous! Come, no more of that; let me entreat thy absence till I have eat my victuals, and I will tell thee more. Good Suckabus do, and I'll see if I can tell thee of a Dwarf shall be all as little. Well, say and hold; come master Carret and mistress turnip, I want but Beef and Pork for sauce to ye, but hunger bids me fall to merrily, and I shall not want for sauce. Thanks to my great preserver, by whose sacred power Poor George of England is set free again From death, danger, and imprisonment; I bow with duty to thy Deity; seven years Hath Famine under bolts and bars dungeoned me up, Accompanied with my tears in the dark bowels Of a loathsome Den, a place so far remote from comfort, That not the smallest chink or cranny Could let the sunbeams in to point on me; Yet thou, in whose foundation stands my building, Hast given me freedom and my hope again, Those sweet companions that despair shut out. Now George again may wear a plumed crest, And wave the Standard of great Christendom In the defiance of her opposites: I'm poor in show, Yet since my freedom hath thus long lain rusty, And unoiled loins unarmed, are grown a strength immutable And from the pinching pangs of famine's jaws A second time ransomed my pining life; But since I have left those desert woods behind, Let me behold this goodly prospective. So my pannier's pretty well sussified, and the whelps in my belly muzzled from barking any more this two hours: How now what proper stripling's this stands gaping about him? let me survey him. A goodly place, pleasant, and full of air. I cannot for my guts call to mind where I have seen this fellow. Enriched with Plenty's hand. But that he had a horse and Armour, he doth resemble my long lost Master George of England. Ha? what echoes that gives me my name, Without a summons which it answers to? What fellow's this that walks and stares about me? I am no wonder that I know of; And but that time makes me to doubt, I should suppose Him for to be my servant Suckabus I lost. The same, the same; I am your servant, and fellow Suckabus: Oh my sweet Master! have we found one another? I could e'en kiss thee round about for joy.
seed 43: T46 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
That's more than e're I heard of yfaith, that ſouldiers want ſtomacks: what enemies doe they meet with there? Why Barrels of Beere, bottles of Sack, Coſterdmongers, Cakes, and Creame, and their wives that bring 'em their dinner. I marry ſir, I would willingly be put into ſuch ſervice; ſure, their Commanders are brave fellows. The braveſt can be pickt out in each pariſh, and the ableſt too, yet I heard one man in the ſhape of a Monſter, put a Captaine and his Company to ſlight. O monſtrous! Come, no more of that; let me intreat thy abſence till I have eate my vittails, and I will tell thee more. Good Suckabus doe, and I'le ſee if I can tell thee of a Dwarfe ſhall be all as little. Well, ſay and hold; come maſter Carret and miſtris Turnup, I want but Beefe and Porke for ſawce to yee, but unger bids me fall to merrily, and I ſhall not want for awe. Thanks to my great preſerver, by whoſe ſacred power Poore George of England is ſet free agen From death, danger, and impriſonment; I bow with duty to thy Deity; ſeven yeares Hath Famine under bolts and barrs dungeon'd me up, Accompanied with my teares in the darke bowels Of a loathſome Den, a place ſo farre remote from comfort, That not the ſmalleſt chinke or crany Could let the Sun-beames in to point on me; Yet thou, in whoſe foundation ſtands my building, Haſt given me freedome and my hope agen, Thoſe ſweet companions that diſpaire ſhut out. Now George agen may weare a plumed creſt, And wave the Standard of great Chriſtendome In the defiance of her oppoſites: I'me poore in ſhow, Yet ſince my freedome hath thus long laine ruſty, And unoyl'd loines unarm'd, are grown a ſtrength immutable And from the pinching pangs of famines jawes A ſecond time ranſom'd my pining life; But ſince I have left thoſe deſart woods behind, Let me behold this goodly proſpective. So my panniar's pritty well ſuſſifi'de, and the whelps in my belly muzzeld from barking any more this two houres: How now what proper ſtripling's this ſtands gaping about him? let me ſurvey him. A goodly place, pleaſant, and full of ayre. I cannot for my guts call to mind where I have ſeen this fellow. Inricht with plenties hand. But that he had a horſe and Armour, hee doth reſemble my long loſt Maſter George of England. Ha? what Eccho's that gives me my name, Without a ſummons which it anſwers to? What fellow's this that walkes and ſtares about me? I am no wonder that I know of; And but that time makes me to doubt, I ſhould ſuppoſe Him for to be my ſervant Suckabus I loſt. The ſame, the ſame; I am your ſervant, and fellow Suckabus: Oh my ſweet Maſter ▪ have we found one another? I could e'ne kiſſe thee round about for joy.