The Night Walker, or The Little Thief · chunk 24 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 T27 Uncles, nephews and cousins: kinship and · 519 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T27: uncle, niece, nephew, gentlemen, faith, cousin, wife, house, gentleman, money.
All I am worth, And all my hopes, this strange voice would forsake her, For then she should be— prithee stay a little, Hark in thine ear, dissemble not, but tell me, And save my life; I know you are Maria: Speak but as I do ten words to confirm me; You have an English soul, do not disguise it From me with these strange accents— She pinched hard Again, and sighed. What ails the Wench? Why, Gunith. She's gone too. Come leave this dream. A dream? I think so; But 'twas a pleasing one, now I'll obey, And forget all these wonders, lead the way. HOnest Toby? Sweet Mr. Wildbrain,— I am glad I ha' met wi'ye. Why did my Aunt send for me? Your Aunt's a mortal, and thinks not on you For aught I can perceive. Is my Cosen alive again? Neither, and yet we do not hear That she's buried. What should make thee glad then? What should make me glad? have I not cause, To see your Princely body well, and walk thus, Look blithe and bonny, and your wardrobe whole still. The Case is clear, and I ha' found a Mine, A perfect Indie, since my Aunt cashiered me; What think'st of this? Oh delicate bells. Thou puttest me in mind, We are to ring anon, I meant to send for thee; Meet me at the old Parish Church. Say no more. When thy Lady is a-bed, we ha' conspired A midnight peal for joy. If I fail hang me i'th' bell-ropes. And how? and how does my Aunt? She's up toth' ears in Law; I do so whirl her to the Counsellors chambers, And back again, and bounce her for more money, And too again, I know not what they do with her, But she's the merriest thing among these Lawdrivers; And in their studies half a day together; If they do get her with Magna Charta, she swears, By all the ability of her old body, She will so claw the Justice, she will sell The tiles of the house she vows, and sack out o'th' cellar (That she worships to Idolatry) but she'll hang him. I would she could: but hark thee honest Toby, If a man have a Mistress, may we not Without my aunt's leave, borrow now and than A coach to tumble in, toward the Exchange, And so forth? A Mistress. She may be thine when we are married. Command, I'll carry you both in pomp; And let my Lady go afoot a Law-catching, And exercise her corns: where is she Master Iohn? shalt see her. Shall we ring for her? And drink her health. Drink stiffly for five hours. we'll drink fifteen. tonight? we will ha' twenty torches then, And through the streets drive on triumphantly; Triumphantly we'll drive, by my Lady's door, As I am a Christian Coachman, I will rattle you And urine in her Porch, and she shall fear me: If you say more, I shall run mad outright, I will drink sack and surfeit instantly; I know not where I am now.
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)
All I am worth, And all my hopes, this strange voyce would forsake her, For then she shud be — prethee stay a little, Harke in thine eare, dissemble not, but tell me, And save my life; I know you are Maria: Speake but as I doe ten words to confirme me; You have an English soule, doe not disguise it From me with these strange accents — She pinch'd hard Againe, and figh'd. What ailes the Wench? Why, Gunith. She's gone too. Come leave this dreame. A dreame? I thinke so; But 'twas a pleasing one, now Ile obey, And forget all these wonders, lead the way. HOnest Toby? Sweet Mr. Wildbraine, — I am glad I ha met weyee. Why did my Aunt send for me? Your Aunt's a mortall, and thinkes not on you For ought I can perceive. Is my Cosen alive agen? Neither, and yet we doe not heare That she's buried. What should make thee glad then? What should make me glad? have I not cause, To see your Princely body well, and walke thus, Looke blith and bonny, and your wardrobe whole still. The Case is cleare, and I ha found a Mine, A perfect Indie, since my Aunt casheer'd me; What think'sts of this? Oh delicate bells. Thou puttest me in minde, We are to ring anon, I meant to send for thee; Meete me at the old Parish Church. Say no more. When thy Lady is a bed, we ha conspir'd A midnight peale for joy. If I faile hang me i'th bell-ropes. And how? and how does my Aunt? She's up to'th eares in Law; I doe so whirle her to the Counsellors chambers, And backe againe, and bounce her for more money, And too again, I know not what they doe with her, But she's the merriest thing among these Lawdrivers; And in their studies halfe a day together; If they doe get her with Magna Charta, she sweares, By all the abilitie of her old body, She will so claw the Justice, she will sell The tiles of the house she vowes, and sacke out o'th cellar (That she worships to Idolatry) but she'le hang him. I would she could: but harke thee honest Toby, If a man have a Mistresse, may we not Without my Aunts leave, borrow now and than A coach to tumble in, toward the Exchange, And so forth? A Mistresse. She may be thine when we are married. Command, Ile carry you both in pompe; And let my Lady go a foot a Law-catching, And exercise her cornes: where is she Master Iohn? Shat see her. Shall we ring for her? And drinke her health. Drinke stiffely for five houres. Weele drinke fifteene. To night? we will ha twenty torches then, And through the streets drive on triumphantly; Triumphantly weele drive, by my Ladyes doore, As I am a Christian Coachman, I will rattle you And urine in her Porch, and she shall feare me: If you say more, I shall runne mad outright, I will drinke sacke and surfeit instantly; I know not where I am now.