The Night Walker, or The Little Thief · chunk 34 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 T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
'Twas excellent. When his time came to yawn, and stretch himself, I bid 'em not be hasty to discover How he was brought home, his eyes fully open, With trembling he began to call his servants, And told 'em he had seen strange visions, That should convert him from his Heathen courses; They wondered, and were silent, there he preached How sweet the air of a contented conscience Smelled in his nose now, asked 'em all forgiveness For their hard pasture since they lived with him; Bid 'em believe, and fetch out the cold sirloin: Pierce the strong beer and let the neighbour's joy in't: The concealed Muskadine should now lie open To every mouth; that he would give toth' poor, And mend their wages; that his doors should be Open to every miserable suitor. What said his servants then? They durst not speak, But blessed themselves, and the strange means that had Made him a Christian in this overjoy, I took my leave, and bade 'em say their prayers, And humour him, lest he turned Iew again. Enough, enough. whose's this? 'tis one of my ringers; stand close, my Lady's Coachman. Buy a mat. a bed, buy a mat. Would I were at rack and manger among my horses; We have divided the sexton's Household stuff amongst us, one has the rug, and he's Turned Irish, another has a blanket, and he must beg in't, The sheets serve another for a frock, and with the bed-cord, He may pass for a Porter, nothing but the mat. fall To my share, which with the help of a tune and a hassock Out o'th' Church may disguise me till I get home; A pox a bell-ringing by the Ear, if any man take me At it again, let him pull mine to the Pillory, I could wish I had lost mine Ears, so I had my clothes again; The weather won't allow this fashion, I do look for an ague besides. How the Rascal shakes? Here are company: Buy a mat. a bed, but a mat. A hassock for your feet, or a Piss clean and sweet; Buy a mat. a bed, by a ma: Ringing, I renounce thee, I'll never come to Church more. You with a mat. I am called. If any one should offer to buy my mat. what a case were I in? Oh that I were in my oat tub with a horse-loaf, Something to hearten me: I dare not hear 'em; Buy a mat. a bed, buy a mat. he's deaf. I am glad I am: buy a mat. a bed. How the Rascal sweats? What a pickle he's in? Every street he goes through will be a new torment, If ever I meet at midnight more a jangling: I am cold, and yet I drop; buy a mat. a bed buy a mat. He has punishment enough. Who's this, my t'other youth? he is turned Bear.
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)
'Twas excellent. When his time came to yawne, and stretch himselfe, I bid em not be hastie to discover How he was brought home, his eyes fully open, With trembling he began to call his servants, And told 'em he had seene strange visions, That should convert him from his Heathen courses; They wondred, and were silent, there he preach'd How sweet the aire of a contented conscience Smelt in his nose now, ask'd 'em all forgivenesse For their hard pasture since they liv'd with him; Bid 'em beleeve, and fetch out the cold sur-loine: Pierce the strong beere and let the neighbours joy in't: The conceal'd Muskadine should now lye open To every mouth; that he would give toth' poore, And mend their wages; that his doores should be Open to every miserable sutor. What said his servants then? They durst not speake, But blest themselves, and the strange' meanes that had Made him a Christian in this over-joy, I tooke my leave, and bad 'em say their prayers, And humor him, lest he turned Iew agen. Enough, enough. Whose this? Tis one of my ringers; stand close, my Ladies Coachman. Buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat; Would I were at racke and manger among my horses; We have devided the Sextons Houshould stuffe amongst us, one has the rugge, and hee's Turn'd Irish, another has a blanket, and he must begge in't, The sheetes serve another for a frocke, and with the bed-cord, He may passe for a Porter, nothing but the mat would fall To my share, which with the helpe of a tune and a hassocke Out oth' Church may disguise me till I get home; A pox a bell-ringing by the Eare, if any man take me At it agen, let him pull mine to the Pillory, I could wish I had lost mine Eares, so I had my cloathes agen; The weather w'onot allow this fashion, I doe looke for an ague besides. How the Raskall shakes? Here are company: Buy a mat for a bed, but a mat, A hassocke for your feet, or a Pisse cleane and sweete; Buy a mat for a bed, by a ma: Ringing, I renounce thee, Ile never come to Church more. You with a mat? I am call'd. If any one should offer to buy my mat, what a case were I in? Oh that I were in my oate tubbe with a horse-loafe, Something to hearten me: I dare not heare 'em; Buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat: Hee's deafe. I am glad I am: buy a mat for a bed. How the Raskall sweats? What a pickle he's in? Every streete he goes through will be a new torment, If ever I meet at midnight more a jangling: I am cold, and yet I drop; buy a mat for a bed buy a mat. He has punishment enough. Who's this, my tother youth? he is turn'd Beare.