Jonson, Ben · published 1640 · first performed or written 1633 [licensed for stage, May 7] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men T30 Constables, justices and the watch typicality 0.72 · 532 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T30: constable, squire, tub, clay, worship, justice, turf, mr, hun, valentine.
Where is your Governor Hilts? Basquet must do it. Basquet shall be called: Hilts, can you see to rise? Ch'm not blind Sir With too much light. Open your t'other eye, And view if it be day. I can spy that At's little a hole, as another, through a Millstone. He will ha' the last word, though he talk Bilke for't. Bilke? what's that? Why nothing, a word signifying Nothing; and borrowed here to express nothing. A fine device! Yes, till we hear a finer. What's your device now, Cannon Hugh? In private. Lend it your ear; I will not trust the air with it; Or scarce my Shire; my Cassock sha' not know it; If I thought it did, I'll burn it. That's the way, You ha' thought to get a new one, Is't worth it? Let's hear it first. Than harken, and receive it. This 'tis Sir, do you relish it? If Hilts Be close enough to carry it; there's all. It i'no sand? nor Buttermilk? If't be, Ich'am no zive or watering pot, to draw Knots i' your ' casions. If you trust me, so: If not, praforme it your zelves.' Cham no man's wife, But resolute Hilts: you'll vind me i'the Buttery. A testy Clown: but a tender Clown, as wool: And melting as the Wether in a Thaw: he'll weep you, like all April: But he ' ull roar you Like middle March afore: He will be as mellow, And tipsy too, as October: And as grave, And bound up like a frost (with the new year) In Ianuary; as rigid, as he is rustic. You know his nature, and describe it well; I'll leave him to your fashioning. Stay, Sir Hugh; Take a good Angel with you, for your Guide: And let this guard you homeward, as the blessing, To our devise. I thank you Squires-worship, Most humbly (for the next, for this I am sure of.) O for a Choir of these voices, now, To chime in a man's pocket, and cry chink! One doth not chirp: it makes no harmony. Grave Justice Bramble, next must contribute; His charity must offer at this wedding: I'll bid more to the Basin, and the Bride-ale; Although but one can bear away the Bride. I smile to think how like a Lottery These Weddings are. Clay hath her in possession; The Squire he hopes to circumvent the Tile-Kill: And now, if Justice Bramble do come of, 'Tis two to one but Tub may lose his bottom. Why, 'tis thirty year, e'en as this day now: Zin Valentine's day, of all days cursined, look you; And the same day o' the month, as this Zin Valentine, Or I am vowly deceived. That our High Constable, Mr. Tobias Turf, and his Dame were married. I think you are right. But what was that Zin Valentine? Did you ever know 'em, Goodman Clench? Cle. Zin Valentine, He was a deadly Zin, and dwelled at Highgate, As I have heard, but it was avore my time: He was a Cooper too, as you are. Medlay, An In-an-In: A woundy, brag young vellow: As th' port went o'hun, than, and i' those days.
seed 43: T36 · seed 44: T35 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Where is your Governour Hilts? Baſquet muſt doe it. Baſquet ſhall be call'd: Hilts, can you ſee to riſe? Cham not blind Sir With too much light. Open your tother eye, And view if it be day. Che can ſpy that At's little a hole, as another, through a Milſtone. Hee will ha' the laſt word, though he talke Bilke for't. Bilke? what's that? Why nothing, a word ſignifying Nothing; and borrow'd here to expreſſe nothing. A fine device! Yes, till we heare a finer. What's your device now, Chanon Hugh? In private. Lend it your eare; I will not truſt the ayre with it; Or ſcarce my Shire; my Caſſock ſha' not know it; If I thought it did, Ile burne it. That's the way, You ha' thought to get a new one, Is't worth it? Let's heare it firſt. Then hearken, and receive it. This 'tis Sir, doe you reliſh it? If Hilts Be cloſe enough to carry it; there's all. It i'no ſand? nor Butter-milke? If't be, Ich'am no zive or watring pot, to draw Knots i' your' caſions. If you truſt me, zo: If not, praforme it your zelves. 'Cham no mans wife, But reſolute Hilts: you'll vind me i'the Buttry. A teſtie Clowne: but a tender Clowne, as wooll: And melting as the Weather in a Thaw: Hee'll weepe you, like all Aprill: But he' ull roare you Like middle March afore: He will be as mellow, And tipſie too, as October: And as grave, And bound up like a froſt (with the new yeare) In Ianuary; as rigid, as he is ruſticke. You know his nature, and deſcribe it well; Ile leave him to your faſhioning. Stay, Sir Hugh; Take a good Angell with you, for your Guide: And let this guard you home-ward, as the bleſſing, To our deviſe. I thanke you Squires-worſhip, Moſt humbly (for the next, for this I am ſure of.) O for a Quire of theſe voices, now, To chime in a mans pocket, and cry chinke! One doth not chirpe: it makes no harmony. Grave Juſtice Bramble, next muſt contribute; His charity muſt offer at this wedding: Ile bid more to the Baſon, and the Bride-ale; Although but one can beare away the Bride. I ſmile to thinke how like a Lottery Theſe Weddings are. Clay hath her in poſſeſſion; The Squire he hopes to circumvent the Tile-Kill: And now, if Juſtice Bramble doe come off, 'Tis two to one but Tub may looſe his botome. Why, 'tis thirty yeare, eene as this day now: Zin Valentines day, of all dayes curſin'd, looke you; And the zame day o' the moneth, as this Zin Valentine, Or I am vowly deceiv'd. That our High Conſtable, Mr. Tobias Turfe, and his Dame were married. I thinke you are right. But what was that Zin Valentine? Did you ever know 'um, Good-man Clench? Cle. Zin Valentine, Hee was a deadly Zin, and dwelt at High-gate, As I have heard, but 't was avore my time: Hee was a Cooper too, as you are. Medlay, An' In-an-In: A woundy, brag young vellow: As th' port went o'hun, then, and i' thoſe dayes.