Nabbes, Thomas · published 1640 · first performed or written 1640 (Annals) not in BritDrama · Beeston's Boys · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T16 Gallantry: ladies, lordships and complim · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T16: lady, madam, gentleman, lordship, ladies, honour, mistress, sweet, court, servant.
This accident whate'er it was hath gained me an opportunity. Squirrel thou must be intelligent and trusty. Hast observed? Why is she a wench? there's a question now to bring thy wit in question, and condemn thee for a puny politic in the smock state. What blades are in the house? Rashbe, Spilman, Poinard, and others. And they made the noise? Right sir. Will they attempt? Any thing for you sir. Shall it be an affront? More, more: send them up; and apply thyself with cunning as thou expectest ever to thrive by the cost sins of wenching. I have known you Mr. Raven a bird of the flesh these many years, and if I should not respect an old standard. Away then to the execution. Cosin our fears was causeless. Had they been Such as it spoke them, we might well have stayed And yielded to them. We had only seemed Compelled to what we free Have you business with any here sir? I do not use to answer sir. Sweet Lady. What fellow's this? Fellow? one that will admit no fellow sir. Fellow! Fellow yourself. More! I suspect some rudeness. Pray Cosin call the Master of the house. The Master of the house is the master of the house; but we will master both him and you unless you deliver. My purse? Your she familiar sir; we would be familiar with her. You are foul mouthed How sir Citizen! do you think ere you are quite fledge in the nest, with the shell of your cuckoos eggs upon your head to confront us? We are blades; and blades must be scoured. What mean you sir? Your servant sweet Lady. She is none of your pleasure Ladies, 'tis a wrong direction of your base thoughts. Base! Cit. thou deserv'st the cane: but this lady's goodness commands thy pardon. You are mistaken sir, I have no skill In th' art of prostitution. You shall be instructed Lady; 'tis the Blade's profession. Forbear your rudeness; if you must be wicked. Let your temptations be directed where The sin is grown to custom. Her chaste ears Never received such sounds. Come come, you must sweet Lady. What sir? Along with us: we are company indeed. Who would let a Cit. (whose teeth are rotten out with sweet meats his mother brings him from goshippings) breathe upon her varnish for the promise of a dry neat's tongue and a pottle of Rhenish at the stillyard, when she may command a Blade to toss and tumble her? and (if she should pawn a petticoat) beat such a fellow as this is till he hath redeemed it. Advantage may do much; but I would wish ye Desist, and be more civil: 'tis not th' odds else Shall fright me from attempting to correct you. Correct us! nay then along Lady. Help me sweet heart, will ye use violence? Ye cowards, 'gainst an unarmed man!
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)
This accident what ere it was hath gain'd me an opportunity. Squirell thou must be intelligent and trusty. Hast observ'd? Why is she a wench? Ther's a question now to bring thy wit in question, and condemn thee for a puny politick in the sock state. What blades are in the house? Rashbe, Spiln, Poard, and others. And they made the noise? Right sir. Will they attempt? Any thing for you sir. Shall it be an affront? More, more: send them up; and applye thy self with cunning as thou expectest ever to thrive by the chostly sins of wenching. I have known you Mr. Raven a bird of the flesh these many yeares, and if I should not respect an old standard. Away then to the execution. Coin our feares was causelesse. Had they been Such as it spake them, we might well have staid And yeelded to them. We had only seem'd Compell'd to what we fre . Have you businesse with any here sir? I do not use to answer sir. Sweet Lady. What fellow's this? Fellow? one that will admit no fellow sir. Fellow! Fellow your selfe. More! I suspect some rudenesse. Pray Cofin call the Master of the house. The Master of the house is the master of the house; but we will master both him and you unlesse you deliver. My purse? Your she familiar sir; we would be familiar with her. You ae foule mouth'd How sir Cittizen! do you think e're you are quite fledge in the nest, with the shell of your cuckows eg upon your head to confront us? We are blades; and blades must be scoured. What meane you sir? Your servant sweet Lady. She is none of your pleasure Ladies, 'tis a wrong direction of your base thoughts. Base! Cit. thou deserv'st the cane: but this Ladies goodnesse commands thy pardon. You are mistaken sir, I have no skill In th' art of prostitution. You shall be instructed Lady; 'tis the Blades profession. Forbear your rudenesse; if you must be wicked. Let your temptations be directed where The sin is grown to custome. Her chaste eares Never receiv'd such sounds. Come come, you must sweet Lady. What sir? A long with us: we are company indeed. Who would Cit. (whose teeth are rotten out with sweet meates his mother brings him from goshippings) breathe upon her vernish for the promise of a dry neats tongue and a pottle of Rhenish at the stillyard, when she may command a Blade to toss and tumble her? and (if she should pawn a petticoat) beat such a fellow as this is till he hath redeem'd it. Advantage may do much; but I would wish ye Desist, and be more civill: 'tis not th' odds else Shall fright me from attempting to correct you. Correct us! nay then along Lady. Help me sweet heart, will ye use violence? Ye cowards, gainst an unarm'd man!