The Night Walker, or The Little Thief · chunk 5 of 39
Fletcher, John / Shirley, James · published 1640 · first performed or written c.1611(?) [revised by Shirley and re-licensed for stage, May 11, 1633] (Annals) comedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T16 Gallantry: ladies, lordships and complim · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T16: lady, madam, gentleman, lordship, ladies, honour, mistress, sweet, court, servant.
I scorn all hazard, And on the edge of danger I do best sir, I have a thousand faces to deceive, And to those twice so many tongues to flatter, An impudence no brass was ever tougher, And for my conscience. Peace, I ha' found a Jewel, A Jewel all the Indies cannot match, And thou shalt feel— This title, and I ha' done sir; I never can confess, I ha' that spell on me; And such rare modesties before a Magistrate, Such Innocence to catch a Judge, such ignorance. I'll learn of thee, thou art my own, come Boy I'll give thee action presently. Have at you. What must I call thee Snap sir. 'tis most natural A name borne to thee, sure thou art a Fairy, Show but thy skill, and I shall make thee happy. Where be these knaves? who strews up all the liveries, Is the Bride's bed made? Yes Madam and a bell Hung under it artificially. Out knave out Must we have larums now? A little warning That we may know when to begin our healths Madam, The Justice is a kind of old Jade Madam, That will go merriest with a bell. All the house drunk. This is a day of Jubilee. Are the best hangings up, and the plate set out? Who makes the Posset, Nurse? The dairy maid, And she'll put that in will make him caper: Well Madam, well, you might ha' chose another, A handsomer for your years. Peace he is rich Nurse, He is rich, and that's beauty. I am sure he is rotten, Would he had been hanged when he first saw her. Termagant! What an angry quean is this, where, Who looks to him? He is very merry Madam M. Wildbrain, has him in hand, i'th' bottom o'th' cellar He sighs and tipples. Alas good Gentleman, My hearts sore for thee. Sorrow must have his course, sirrah Give him some Sack to dry up his remembrance, How does the Bridegroom, I am afraid of him. He is a trim youth to be tender of, hemp take him. Must my sweet new blown Rose find such a winter Before her spring be near. Peace, peace, thou art foolish. And dances like a Town top: and reels, and hobbles. Alas, good Gentleman, give him not much wine. He shall ha' none by my consent. Are the women comforting my daughter? Yes, yes, Madam, And reading to her a pattern of true patience, They read and pray for her too. They had need, Ye had better marry her to her grave a great deal: There will be peace and rest, alas poor gentlewoman, Must she become a Nurse now in her tenderness? Well Madam well my heart bleeds. Thou art a fool still Pray heaven I be. And an old fool to be vexed thus. 'tis late she must to bed, go knave be merry, Drink for a Boy, away to all your charges.
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)
I scorne all hazard, And on the edge of danger I doe best sir, I have a thousand faces to deceive, And to those twice so many tongues to flatter, An impudence no brasse was ever tougher, And for my conscience. Peace, I ha found a Jewell, A Jewell all the Indies cannot match, And thou shat feele — This title, and I ha done sir; I never can confesse, I ha that spell on me; And such rare modesties before a Magistate, Such Innocence to catch a Judge, such ignorance. Ile learne of thee, thou art my owne, come Boy Ile give thee action presently. Have at you. What must I call thee Snap sir. Tis most naturall A name borne to thee, sure thou art a Fairie, Shew but thy skill, and I shall make thee happie. Where be these knaves? who strues up all the liveries, Is the brides bed made? Yes Madam and a bell Hung under it artificially. Out knave out Must we have larums now? A little warning That we may know when to begin our healths Madam, The Justice is a kinde of old Jade Madam, That will goe merriest with a bell. All the house drunke. This is a day of Jubile. Are the best hangings up, and the plate set out? Who makes the Posset, Nurse? The dairie mayd, And sheele put that in will make him caper: Well Madam, well, you might ha chose another, A handsomer for your yeares. Peace he is rich Nurse, He is rich, and thats beauty. I am sure he is rotten, Would he had beene hang'd when he first saw her. Termagant! What an angry queane is this, where, Who lookes to him? He is very merry Madam M. Wildbraine, has him in hand, ith' bottome o'th Sellar He sighes and tipples. Alas good Gentleman, My hearts sore for thee. Sorrow must have his course, sirra Give him some Sacke to dry up his remembrance, How does the Bridegroome, I am afraide of him. He is a trim youth to be tender of, hempe take him. Must my sweete new blowne Rose finde such a winter Before her spring be neere. Peace, peace, thou art foolish. And dances like a Towne top: and reeles, and hobbles. Alas, good Gentleman, give him not much wine. He shall ha none by my consent. Are the women comforting my daughter? Yes, yes, Madam, And reading to her a patterne of true patience, They read and pray for her too. They had neede, Ye had better marry her to her grave a great deale: There will be peace and rest, alas poore gentlewoman, Must she become a Nurse now in her tendernesse? Well Madam well my heart bleeds. Thou art a foole still Pray heaven I be. And an old foole to be vext thus. Tis late she must to bed, goe knave be merry, Drinke for a Boy, away to all your charges.