D., J. · published 1640 · first performed or written c.1625 [revised c.1632] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Fortune unassigned nearest T21 Cupid, Venus and the nymphs · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T21: cupid, venus, love, ceres, diana, fair, nymphs, goddess, bow, damon.
You are not merry Gentlewomen, Mistress Durable what, no mirth? And how is't, how have you done this seven years, welcome again. As you see, in perfect memory, when shall we ride the hogsheads? Ha, do you remember that night, Ancient Thumps health overthrew me, my Master goes out of Town next week; i'faith and you'll come, there's half a dozen good boys, we'll be swinging merry, will give him a crash, old Will, Will be here? What Will? Little Will of the Mitre. Oh, Master Fub, Sir, out Maid, that gave us the neat's Tongue is gone. See, see. Some Sugar there? Ha, ha, hum. In ample stories written 'tis, Who list but for to mind it; How loved Narcissus? Go look and you shall find it. This Echo was a Nymph most chaste, A lack, the more the pity She should be so, and should not reap: What follows in my Ditty? Narcissus was but young, I wiss, But yet of perfect feature, And had enough to satisfy A reasonable creature. His brawny limbs became his parts, No one of sense could blame them: And so did something else I trow, Echo knew how to name them. A virtuous piece of matter, Gentlemen, we'll no more on't. Nay, hold up, Signior. Bid her hold up, fear not me. Come Gentlewomen, shall we have a dance? Tomaso what say you? You prevented me. I thought it should have been my motion? Wherefore ring those bells? Bells, you are deceived, it is the clinking of pots. I would have sworn, it had been Coronation day. Masters, can you play us Gascoyne's Whibling? Yes, sir. Let's ha''t. Here lacks a couple, we cannot dance it. Lack a couple, what serve Tim and I for? 'tis true, well remembered. Truly, Master Fub, I cannot dance. Truly, you shall learn then. I shall be willing to endeavour. Strike. I'll throw the pot at his head that strikes here, whose's that will strike? Rare i'faith, give's more wine. What, Timothy? By and by. Look to the Lion. I'll have my Galliard too You spoil all. How does your head, sweet heart? Yes faith, and thank you too, what Rogue's he that turns the Room round? shall we not quench our thirsts before we part? What else my sweet Signior, this is your servant? Good enough for a property, he will serve my turn, as well as a better, I shall but use his name: do you think I would marry the Coxcomb, but only for colour and fear of the Law? I'd see him baked first. 'tis wisely done of you? and so my Gossip Slight could say I warrant you. Boy, another quart, and bring a Reckoning. Here sir. Heaven keep your Worship. In honester company. Fub, call for a looking-glass. Did you go the right way? It's a cup of neat wine, I'll assure— Mistress to yourself, and to our next meeting?
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)
You are not merry Gentlewomen, Miſtris Durable what, no mirth? And how iſt, how have you done this ſeven yeares, welcome again. As you ſee, in perfect memory, when ſhall wee ride the hogſheads? Ha, do you remember that night, Ancient Thumps health overthrew mee, my Maſter goes out of Towne next weeke; yfaith and youle come, there's halfe a dozen good boys, weele be ſwingeing merry, will give him a craſh, old Will, Will be here? What Will? Little Will of the Mitre. Oh, Maſter Fub, Sir, out Maid, that gave us the Neats Tongue is gone. See, ſee. Some Sugar there? Ha, ha, hum. In ample ſtories written tis, Who list but for to minde it; How loved Narciſſus? Go look and you ſhall finde it. This Eccho was a Nymph moſt chaſte, A lack, the more the pitty▪ She ſhould be ſo, and ſhould not reape▪ What follows in my Ditty? Narciſſus was but young, I wiſſe, But yet of perfect feature, And had enough to ſatisfie A reaſonable creature. His brawny limbes became his parts, No one of ſence could blame them: And ſo did ſomething elſe I trow, Eccho knew how to name them. A vertuous piece of matter, Gentlemen, wee'le no more on't. Nay, hold up, Signior. Bid her hold up, feare not me. Come Gentlewomen, ſhall we have a dance? Tomaſo what ſay you? You prevented me. I thought it ſhould have been my motion? Wherefore ring thoſe bels? Bels, you are deceived, it is the clincking of pots. I would have ſworn, it had been Coronation day. Maſters, can you play us Gaſcoynes Whibling? Yes, ſir. Let's ha't. Here lacks a couple, we cannot dance it. Lack a couple, what ſerve Tim and I for? Tis true, well remembred. Truly, Maſter Fub, I cannot dance. Truly, you ſhall learn then. I ſhall be willing to endevour. Strike. Ile throw the pot at his head that ſtrikes heere, Whoſe that will ſtrike? Rare yfaith, give's more wine. What, Timothy? By and by. Look to the Lion. Ile have my Galliard too You ſpoyle all. How does your head, ſweet heart? Yes faith, and thank you too, what Rogue's he that turns the Room round? ſhall we not quench our thirſts before we part? What elſe my ſweet Signior, this is your ſervant? Good enough for a property, he will ſerve my turn, as well as a better, I ſhall but uſe his name: do you think I would marry the Coxcombe, but only for colour and feare of the Law? I'de ſee him bak'd firſt. Tis wiſely done of you? and ſo my Goſſip Slight could ſay I warrant you. Boy, another quart, and bring a Reckoning. Here ſir. Heaven keep your Worſhip. In honeſter company. Fub, call for a Looking-glaſſe. Did you go the right way? It's a cup of neat wine, Ile aſſure— Miſtris to your ſelf, and to our next meeting?