Monsieur Thomas (Father's Own Son) · chunk 24 of 42
Fletcher, John · published 1639 · first performed or written 1615 [1610-c.1616] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Under your masterships' correction, I can sing The Duke of Norfolk, or the merry Ballad Of Diverus and Lazarus, the Rose of England, In Crect when Dedimus first began, Ionas his crying out against Coventry, Excellent, Rare matters all. Maudlin the Merchant's daughter, The Devil, and ye dainty Dames. Rare still. The landing of the Spaniards at Bow, With the bloody battle at Mile-end. All excellent: No tuning as ye love me; let thy Fiddle Speak welsh, or any thing that's out of all tune, The vilder still the better, like thyself, For I presume thy voice will make no trees dance. Nay truly, ye shall have it even as homely. Keep ye to that key, are they all a-bed trow? I hear no stirring any where, no light In any window, 'tis a night for the nonce Sir. Come strike up then: and say the Merchant's daughter, We'll bear the burden: proceed to incision Fidler. Who's there? what noise is this? what rogue At these hours? O what is that to you my fool? O what is that to you, Pluck in your face you bawling Ass, Or I will break your brow. A new Ballad, a new, a new. The twelfth of April, on May day, My house and goods were burnt away, etc. Why who is this? O damsel dear, Open the door, and it shall appear, Open the door, O gentle squire. I'll see thee hang first: farewell my dear, 'Tis master Thomas, there he stands. 'Tis strange That nothing can redeem him: rail him hence, Or sing him out in's own way, any thing To be delivered of him. Then have at him: My man Thomas did me promise. He would visit me this night. I am here Love, tell me dear Love, How I may obtain thy sight. Come up to my window love, come, come, come, Come to my window my dear, The wind, nor the rain, shall trouble thee again, But thou shalt be lodged here. And art thou strong enough? Up, up, I warrant ye. What dost thou mean to do? Good Mistress peace, I'll warrant ye we'll cool him: Madge, I am ready. The love of Greece and it tickled him so, That he devised a way to go. Now sing the Duke of Northumberland. And climbing to promotion, He fell down suddenly, Farewell sir. What hast thou done? thou hast broke his neck. Not hurt him, He pitched upon his legs like a Cat, O woman: O miserable woman, I am spoiled, My leg, my leg, my leg, oh both my legs. I told thee what thou hadst done, mischief go with thee, O I am lamed for ever: O my leg, Broken in twenty places: O take heed, Take heed of women, Fidler: oh a Surgeon, A Surgeon, or I die: oh my good people, No charitable people, all despiteful, Oh what a misery am I in: oh my leg.
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)
Vnder your maſterſhips correction, I can ſing The Duke of Norfolke, or the merry Ballad Of Diverus and Lazarus, the Roſe of England, In Creet when Dedimus firſt began, Jonas his crying out againſt Coventry, Excellent, Rare matters all. Mawdlin the Merchants daughter, The Divell, and ye dainty Dames. Rare ſtill. The landing of the Spaniards at Bow, With the bloudy battell at Mile-end. All excellent: No tuning as ye love me; let thy Fidle Speake welch, or any thing that's out of all tune, The vilder ſtill the better, like thy ſelfe, For I preſume thy voyce will make no trees dance. Nay truely, ye ſhall have it ev'n as homely. Keep ye to that key, are they all abed trow? I heare no ſtirring any where, no light In any window, 'tis a night for the nonce Sir. Come ſtrike up then: and ſay the Merchants daughter, We'l beare the burthen: proceed to inciſion Fidler. Who's there? what noyſe is this? what rogue At theſe houres? O what is that to you my foole? O what is that to you, Plucke in your face you bawling Aſſe, Or I will breake your brow. A new Ballad, a new, a new. The twelfth of Aprill, on May day, My houſe and goods were burnt away, &c. Why who is this? O damſell deere, Open the doore, and it ſhall appeare, Open the doore, O gentle ſquire. I'le ſee thee hang firſt: farewell my deere, 'Tis maſter Thomas, there he ſtands. 'Tis ſtrange That nothing can redeeme him: raile him hence, Or ſing him out in's owne way, any thing To be deliver'd of him. Then have at him: My man Thomas did me promiſe. He would viſite me this night. I am here Love, tell me deere Love, How I may obtaine thy ſight. Come up to my window love, come, come, come, Come to my window my deere, The winde, nor the raine, ſhall trouble thee againe, But thou ſhalt be lodged here. And art thou ſtrong enough? Vp, up, I warrant ye. What do'ſt thou meane to doe? Good Miſtreſſe peace, I'le warrant ye wee'l coole him: Madge, I am ready. The loue of Greece and it tickled him ſo, That he deviſed a way to goe. Now ſing the Duke of Northumberland. And climbing to promotion, He fell down ſuddenly, Farewell ſir. What haſt thou done? thou haſt broke his neck. Not hurt him, He pitcht upon his legs like a Cat, O woman: O miſerable woman, I am ſpoil'd, My leg, my leg, my leg, oh both my legs. I told thee what thou hadſt done, miſchiefe go with thee, O I am lam'd for ever: O my leg, Broken in twenty places: O take heed, Take heed of women, Fidler: oh a Surgeon, A Surgeon, or I dye: oh my good people, No charitable people, all deſpightfull, Oh what a miſery am I in: oh my leg.