The Night Walker, or The Little Thief · chunk 6 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 T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Do as thou wot, but if thou dost refuse it Thou art the stupidest ass, there's no long arguing, Time is too precious Frank. I am hot with wine, And apt now to believe, but if thou dost this Out of a villainy, to make me wrong her, As thou art prone enough. Does she not love thee? Did she not cry down right e'en now to part with thee? Had she not swooned if I had not caught her? Canst thou have more? I must confess all this. Do not stand prating, and misdoubting, casting, If she go from thee now, she's lost for ever; Now now she's going, she that loves thee going, She whom thou lov'st. Pray let me think a little. There is no leisure; think when thou hast embraced her Can she imagine thou didst ever honour her, Ever believe thy oaths, that tamely sufferest An old dry ham of horse flesh to enjoy her Enjoy her Maiden head; take but that from her That we may tell posterity a man had it, A handsome man, a gentleman, a young man, To save the honour of our house, the credit, 'tis no great matter I desire. I hear you. Free us both from the fear of breeding fowls And ophs, got by this shadow: we talk too long. She is going now to bed, among the women What opportunity can I have to meet her? Let me alone, hast thou a will? speak soundly, Speak discreetly, speak home and handsomely, Is't not pity, nay misery, nay infamy to leave So rare a pie to be cut up by a rascal. I will go presently, now, now, I stay thee. Such a dainty do, to be taken By one that knows not neck beef from a Pheasant, Nor cannot relish bragget from Ambrosia. Is it not conscience. Yes, yes, now I feel it. A meritorious thing. Good Father wild-goose, I do confess it. Come then follow me And pluck a man's heart up, I'll lock thee privately Where she alone shall presently pass by, None near to interrupt thee but be sure; I shall be sure enough, lead on, and crown me. No wringings in your mind now as you love me. 'tis time you were a-bed. I prithee sweet heart Consider my necessity, why art sad? I must tell you a tale in your ear anon. Of Tom Thumb. I believe that will prove your stiffest story. I pity the young wench. And so do I too. Come, old sticks take fire. But the Plague is, he'll burn out instantly; Give him another cup. Those are but flashes, A run of sack won't set him high enough. Will ye to bed? I must. Come have a good heart, And win him like a bowl to lie close to you, Make your best use. Nay prithee Duck go instantly, I'll dance a Jig or two to warm my body. 'tis almost midnight. Prithee to bed Maria.
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)
Doe as thou wot, but if thou dost refuse it Thou art the stupid'st asse, there's no long arguing, Time is too precious Franke. I am hot with wine, And apt now to beleeve, but if thou dost this Out of a villanie, to make me wrong her, As thou art prone enough. Does she not love thee? Did she not cry downe right eene now to part with thee? Had she not swounded if I had not caught her? Canst thou have more? I must confesse all this. Doe not stand prating, and misdoubting, casting, If she goe from thee now, she's lost for ever; Now now she's going, she that loves thee going, She whom thou lov st. Pray let me thinke a little. There is no leisure; thinke when thou hast imbrac'd her Can she imagine thou didst ever honour her, Ever beleeve thy oathes, that tamely sufferst An old dry ham of horse flesh to enjoy her Enjoy her Maiden head; take but that from her That we may tell posterity a man had it, A handsome man, a gentleman, a young man, To save the honour of our house, the credit, Tis no great matter I desire. I heare you. Free us both from the feare of breeding foules And ophs, got by this shaddow: we talke too long. She is going now to bed, among the women What opportunitie can I have to meete her? Let me alone, hast thou a will? speake soundly, Speake discreetely, speake home and handsomely, Ist not pitty, nay misery, nay infamie to leave So rare a pie to be cut up by a raskall. I will goe presently, now, now, I stay thee. Such a dainty Doe, to be taken By one that knowes not necke beefe from a Phesant, Nor cannot rellish Braggat from Ambrofia. Is it not conscience. Yes, yes, now I feele it. A meritorious thing. Good Father Wildgoose, I doe confesse it. Come then follow me And plucke a mans heart up, Ile locke thee privately Where she alone shall presently passe by, None neere to interupt thee but be sure; I shall be sure enough, leade on, and crowne me. No wringings in your minde now as you love me. Tis time you were a bed. I prethee sweete heart Consider my necessity, why art sad? I must tell you a tale in your eare anon. Of Tom Thumb. I beleeve that will prove your stiffest story. I pitty the young wench. And so doe I too. Come, old stickes take fire. But the Plague is, heele burne out instantly; Give him another cup. Those are but flashes, A run of sacke wonot set him high enough. Will ye to bed? I must. Come have a good heart, And win him like a bowle to lye close to you, Make your best use. Nay prethee Ducke goe instantly, Ile daunce a Jig or two to warme my body. Tis almost midnight. Prethee to bed Maria.