Jonson, Ben · published 1641 · first performed or written 1621 [Aug 3; Aug 5; Sep] (Annals) masque · before the Court unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 516 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
Can they Cant, or Mill? are they masters of their Arts? Not bachelors these, they cannot have proceeded so far; they have scarce had their time to be lousy yet. All the better; I would be acquainted with them while they are in clean life, the I'll do their tricks the cleanlier. We must have some music than, and take out the Wenches. Music, we'll have a whole poverty of pipers, call cheeks upon the Bagpipe, and Tom Ticklefoot with his Tabor; see where he comes! I, and all the good wenches of Windsor; after him, yonder is Prue o'the Park, And Frances o'the Castle; And long Meg of Eton; And Christian o' Dorny. See the miracle of a Minstrel. he's able to muster up the smocks of the two Shires; And set the Codpieces and they by th'ears at pleasure. I cannot hold now, there's my groat, let's have a fit for mirth sake. Yes, and they'll come about us for luck sake. But look to our pockets, and purses, for our own sake. I, I have the greatest charge; gather the money. Come Girls, here be Gipsies come to town, let's dance'em down. Sweet Doxies, and dels, My Roses, and Knells, Scarce out of the shells, Your hands nothing else. We ring you no knells With our Ptolemy's bells, Though we come from the fells, But bring you good spells, And tell you some chances, In midst of your dances, That fortune advances, To Prudence, or Frances; To Sisly, or Harry, To Roger, or Mary, Or Peg of the Dary; To Maudlin, or Thomas, Than do not run from us, Although we look tawny, We are healthy, and brawny, What ere your demand is, we'll give you no jaundis. Say you so old Gipsy? 'slid these go too't in rhymes; this is better than canting by tone half. Nay, you shall hear; peace, they begin with Prudence, mark that. The wiser Gipsie's the Marry. Are you advised? Yes, and i'll stand too't, that a wise Gipsy (take him at time o'year) is as pollique a piece of flesh, as most Justices in the County where he stalks. To love a Keeper, your fortune will be; But the Doucets better than him, or his fee. Ha' Prue, has he hit you i'th' teeth with a sweet bit? Let her alone, she'll swallow well enough; A learned Gipsy. You'll hear more hereafter. Mary, and i'll listen; who stands next? Jack Cockrell. You'll ha' good luck to horseflesh o' my life, You ploughed so late with the Vicar's wife. A Prophet, a prophet, no Gipsy; or if he be a Gipsy, a divine Gipsy. Mark Frances, now she's going too't, the virginity o' the Parish. Fear not, in hell you'll never lead Apes; A mortified maiden, of five 'scapes. Birlady he touched the virgin string there a little too hard, they are arrant learned men all I see; what say they upon Tom, Clod, List. Clods feet will in Christmas go near to be bore, When he has lost all his hob nails at Post and pair.
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)
Can they Cant, or Mill? are they maſters of their Arts? No bachelours theſe, they cannot have proceeded ſo farre; they have ſcarce had their time to be lowſie yet. All the better; I would be acquainted with them while they are in cleane life, the 'ile doe their tricks the cleanlier. We muſt have ſome muſick then, and take out the Wenches. Muſick, wee'll have a whole poverty of pipers, call cheeks upon the Bagpipe, and Tom Ticklefoot with his Tabor; ſee where he comes! I, and all the good wenches of Windſor; after him, yonder is Prue o'the Parke, And Frances o'the Caſtle; And long Meg of Eaton; And Chriſtian o' Dorny. See the miracle of a Minſtrell. Hees able to muſter up the ſmocks of the two Shieres; And ſet the Codpeeces and they by th'eares at pleaſure. I cannot hold now, ther's my groat, let's have a fit for mirth ſake. Yes, and the'ile come about us for lucke ſake. But looke to our pockets, and purſes, for our owne ſake. I, I have the greateſt charge; gather the money. Come Girles, here be Gipſies come to town, let's dance'em down. Sweet Doxies, and Dells, My Roſes, and Knells, Scarce out of the ſhells, Your hands nothing ells. We ring you no knells With our Ptolomies bells, Though we come from the fells, But bring you good ſpells, And tell you ſome chances, In midſt of your dances, That fortune advances, To Prudence, or Frances; To Siſly, or Harry, To Roger, or Mary, Or Pegge of the Dary; To Maudlin, or Thomas, Then do not runne from us, Although we looke tawny, We are healthie, and brawny, What ere your demand is, Weell give you no jaundis. Say you ſo old Gipſie? 'ſlid theſe go too't in rymes; this is better then canting by tone halfe. Nay, you ſhall heare'em; peace, they begin with Prudence, mark that. The wiſer Gipſie's the Marry. Are you adviſ'd? Yes, and ile ſtand too't, that a wiſe Gipſie (take him at time o'year) is as pollique a peece of fleſh, as moſt Juſtices in the County where hee ſtalkes. To love a Keeper, your fortune will bee; But the Doucets better then him, or his fee. Ha Prue, has he hit you it'h teeth with a ſweet bit? Let her alone, ſhee'll ſwallow well enough; A learned Gipſie. You'le heare more hereafter. Marry, and ile liſten; who ſtands next? Jack Cockrell. You'le ha' good lucke to horſe-fleſh o' my life, You plow'd ſo late with the Vicars wife. A Prophet, a prophet, no Gipſie; or if he be a Gipſie, a divine Gipſie. Mark Frances, now ſhee's going too't, the virginitie o' the Pariſh. Feare not, in hell you'le never lead Apes; A mortifi'd mayden, of five ſcapes. Birlady he toucht the virgin ſtring there a little too hard, they are arrant learned men all I ſee; what ſay they upon Tom, Clod, Liſt. Clods feet will in Chriſtmas goe neere to be bare, When he has loſt all his hob nayles at Poſt and paire.