Ford, John · published 1639 · first performed or written 1638 [licensed for stage, May 3] (Annals) not in BritDrama · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 479 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Still Don is Don the great. He shows the greatness Of his vast stomach in the quick embracement Of th' other's dinner. 'twas the ready means to catch his friendship. youare a pair of worthies, That make the nine no wonder. Now since fate Ordains that one of two must be the man, The man of men which must enjoy alone Love's darling Amoretta, both take liberty To show himself before her, without cross Of interruption, one of tother: he Whose sacred mystery of earthly blessings Crowns the pursuit; be happy. And till then, live brothers in society. We are fast. I vow a match: I'll feast the Don today And fast with him tomorrow. Fair conditions. Futelli and Piero, follow speedily. My Lord we wait ye. We shall soon return. What's that? I saw a sound. A voice for certain. It named a Lord. Here are Lords too, we take it, We carry blood about us, rich and haughty, As any the twelve Caesars. Gulls or moguls, Tag, rag, or other, Hoger-Mogen vanden Skip-Iacks, or Chouses. Who! the brace are flinched, The pair of shavers are sneaked from us, Don. Why? what are we? The valiant will stand to't. So say I, we will eat and drink, and squander, Till all do split again. Match on with greediness. You cannot answer what a general tongue Objects against your folly, I may curse The interest you lay claim to in my blood, Your mother my decree niece did die, I thought Too soon, but she is happy, had she lived Till now, and known the vanities of your life Hath dealt in, she had wished herself a grave Before a timely hour. Sir, consider, My sex, were I mankind, my sword should quit A wounded honour, and reprieve a name From injury, by printing on their bosoms Some deadly Character, whose drunken surfeits Vomit such base aspersions, as I am Scorn and contempt is virtue: my desert Stands far above their malice. Levidolche, hypocrisy puts on a holy robe, Yet never changeth nature: call to mind, How in your girl's days you fell forsooth In love, and married, married (hark ye) whom. A trencher-waiter, shrewd preferment: but Your childhood then excused that fault: for so Footmen have run away with lusty heirs, And stable-grooms reached to some fair ones chambers. Pray let not me be bandied sir, and baffled By your intelligence. So touched to the quick, Fine mistress, I will then rip up at length The progress of your infancy, in colour Of disagreement you must be divorced, Were so, and I must countenance the reasons On better hopes I did, nay took you home, Provided you my care, nay justified Your alteration, joyed to entertain Such visitants of worth and rank, as tendered Civil respects; but then, even then— What then? Sweet uncle do not spare me.
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)
Still Don is Don the great. He ſhewes the greatneſſe Of his vaſt ſtomach in the quicke embracement Of thothers dinner. Twas the ready meanes to catch his friendſhip. Yare a paire of worthies, That make the nine no wonder. Now ſince fate Ordaines that one of two muſt be the man, The man of men which muſt enjoy alone Loves darling Amoretta, both take liberty To ſhew himſelfe before her, without croſſe Of interruption, one of tother: he Whoſe ſacred myſtery of earthly bleſſings Crownes the purſuit; be happy. And till then, live brothers in ſocietie. We are faſt. I vow a match: Ile feaſt the Don to day And faſt with him to morrow. Faire conditions. Futelli and Piero, follow ſpeedily. My Lord we wait yee. We ſhall ſoone returne. Whats that? I ſaw a ſound. A voyce for certaine. It nam'd a Lord. Here are Lords too, we take it, We carry blood about us, rich and haughty, As any the twelve Caeſars. Gulls or Mogulls, Tag, rag, or other, Hoger-Mogen vanden Skip-Iacks, or Chouſes. Whoo! the brace are flincht, The paire of ſhavers are ſneakt from us, Don. Why? what are we? The valiant will ſtand too't. So ſay I, we will eate and drink, and ſquander, Till all doe ſplit againe. Match on with greedineſſe. You cannot anſwer what a generall tongue Objects againſt your folly, I may curſe The intereſt you lay claime to in my blood, Your mother my decre neece did die, I thought Tooſoon, but ſhe is happy, had ſhe liv'd▪ Till now, and knowne the vanities of your life Hath dealt in, ſhe had wiſht herſelfe a grave Before a timely houre. Sir, conſider, My ſex, were I mankinde, my ſword ſhould quit A wounded honour, and repreave a name From injury, by printing on their boſomes Some deadly Character, whoſe drunken ſurfets Vomit ſuch baſe aſperſions, as I am Scorne and contempt is vertue: my deſert Stands far above their malice. Levidolche, hypocriſie puts on a holy robe, Yet never changeth nature: call to minde, How in your girles dayes you fell forſooth In love, and married, married (harke ye) whom▪ A trencher-waiter, ſhrewd preferment: but Your childhood then excuſ'd that fault: for ſo Footmen have run away with luſty heires, And ſtable-grooms reacht to ſome fair ones chambers. Pray let not me be bandied ſir, and baſfaild By your intelligence. So toucht to the quicke, Fine miſtreſſe, I will then rip up at length The progreſſe of your infancie, in colour Of diſagreement you muſt be divorc'd, Were ſo, and I muſt countenance the reaſons On better hopes I did, nay tooke you home, Provided you my care, nay juſtified Your alteration, joyd to entertaine Such viſitants of worth and ranke, as tendred Civill reſpects; but then, even then— What then? Sweet unkle doe not ſpare me.