D., J. · published 1640 · first performed or written c.1625 [revised c.1632] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Fortune unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
Follow me then, and I drive not this melancholy fit out of thee, I'll never trust my conceit: what, ho Damazella? Knocks, and Clarislona looks out at the window. whose's there? He's here that should be here, come down? Lodowick. Yes. What's she. The commodity I told you of, there's a Gentleman a friend of yours in love with her. Not yourself. No faith, though you shall hear her swear as much, 'tis our rich heir Signior Stultissimo. What, the Fool? That morsel of man's flesh, she cannot beat him away, he haunts the Eves like a Sparrow in March, you may hunt flies from honey sooner then him out of her company: now Mistress how stands things with you, when did you play with your fool's babble? You'll never leave this. Bid my friend welcome. I thank you Lady. Come kiss me? Will you stay all night? Yes, when I am weary of strength, and foes with my back. I'faith Lodowick, you must leave this? So I will. When? When thou leav'st thy trade? Will you sup here? Yes drink, nothing else. Lord, how wise you're grown? So I were, if I could keep out of your company. Fie, you're to uncourteous Lodwick: nay, he's ever thus, but 'tis my fault. Marry mend it then for shame. Where's my Bracelet, which of your trulls has that? Shall I be true to thee? you're ne'er true to me. I mean honest. I care not for your honesty. I believe that too, but in plain verity. Your bracelet embraces my horses main. Come, you jest. No good troth. Swear you, I hope you make a difference between your horse and me. Faith but little: and yet you're both good bearers. By the bright Sun you wrong her: weep not fair one. What, shall we have tricks? You are too blame beshrew me. Now, when, what needs all this, nay, and you pout farewell. As I am a Gentleman you part not so. Sweet, Lodwick. Hum. why was not this before, I have seen the Bears. Do not I know your woman? Hist, hist, Are you the man of War? Nay, you must draw nearer, if you'll have your Embassy answered: how is't Mistress Durable? How do you Master Lodowick? The worse for you, and your creatures. It's a good hearing. Shall I have three or four words in private? Not with her unless I participate. What's the matter? Yonder's Fub, the party's man you wot on has something under hand and seal. For me. So he gives out. You may admit him. Rest you merry Gentlemen. whose's this secret party, this concealed Champion, What have ye here, Signior Stultissimo's man? All hail. This fellow would keep a vild coil if he were atop ath' tiles. Gentiles, good speed. What, the Plough? No, you, and you please, Marona to yourself. This fellows discreet. To me. So says his backside. You the man of War, or more properly Pirate, that gave summons to the leaguer.
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)
Follow me then, and I drive not this melancholly fit out of thee, Ile never truſt my conceit: what, ho Damazella? Knocks, and Clariſlona looks out at the window. Whoſe there? He's here that ſhould be here, come down? Lodowick. Yes. What's ſhe. The commodity I told you of, there's a Gentleman a friend of yours in love with her. Not your ſelfe. No faith, though you ſhall heare her ſweare as much, tis our rich heire Signior Stultiſſimo. What, the Foole? That mor ſell of mans fleſh, ſhee cannot beat him away, he haunts the Eves like a Sparrow in March, you may hunt flies from honey ſooner then him out of her company: now Miſtris how ſtands things with you, when did you play with your fools bable? Youle never leave this. Bid my friend welcome. I thank you Lady. Come kiſſe me? Will you ſtay all night? Yes, when I am weary of ſtrength, and foes with my back. Yfaith Lodowick, you muſt leave this? So I will▪ When? When thou leav'ſt thy trade? Will you ſup here? Yes drink, nothing elſe. Lord, how wiſe your grown? So I were, if I could keep out of your company. Fie, your'e to uncourteous Lodwick: nay, he's ever thus, but tis my fault. Marry mend it then for ſhame. Where's my Bracelet, which of your Truls has that? Shall I be true to thee? Your'e nere true to me. I mean honeſt. I care not for your honeſty. I believe that too, but in plain verity. Your bracelet embraces my horſes main. Come, you jeſt. No good troth. Sweare you, I hope you make a difference between your horſe and me. Faith but little: and yet your'e both good bearers. By the bright Sun you wrong her: weepe not faire one. What, ſhall we have tricks? You are too blame beſhrow me. Now, when, what needs all this, nay, and you powt farewell. As I am a Gentleman you part not ſo. Sweet, Lodwick. Hum, why was not this before, I have ſeene the Beares. Do not I know your woman? Hiſt, hiſt, Are you the man of War? Nay, you muſt draw neerer, if youle have your Embaſſie anſwered: how iſt Miſtris Durable? How do you Maſter Lodowick? The worſe for you, and your creatures. It's a good hearing. Shall I have three or foure words in private? Not with her unleſſe I participate. Whats the matter? Yonder's Fub, the parties man you wot on has ſomthing under hand and ſeale. For me. So he gives out. You may admit him. Reſt you merry Gentlemen. Whoſe this ſecret party, this conceal'd Champion▪ What have ye here, Signior Stuliiſſimoes man? All haile. This fellow would keep a vilde coyle if hee were a top ath' tiles. Gentiles, good ſpeed. What, the Plough? No, you, and you pleaſe, Marona to your ſelf. This fellows diſcreet. To me. So ſayes his backſide. You the man of War, or more properly Pirat, that gave ſummons to the leaguer.