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 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T30: constable, squire, tub, clay, worship, justice, turf, mr, hun, valentine.
Well, so it is, there is a bold young Squire, The blood of Totten, Tub, and Tripoli—. Squire Tub, you mean? I know him: he knows me too. He is in love with you: and more, he's mad for you. I, so he told me: in his wits, I think. But he's too fine for me; and has a Lady Tub to his Mother. Here he comes himself! O you are a trusty Governor! What ails you? You do not know when youare well, I think: You'd ha' the Calf with the white face, Sir, would you? I have her for you here; what would you more? Quietness, Hilts, and hear no more of it. Not more of it, quoth you? I do not care, If some on us had not heard so much of't, I tell you true; A man must carry, and fetch, Like Bungy's dog for you. What's he? A Spaniel. And scarce be spit i' the mouth for't. A good Dog Deserves, Sir, a good bone, of a free Master: But, an your turns be served, the devil a bit You care for a man after, ere a Lard of you. Like will to like, i'faith, quoth the scabbed Squire To th' mangy Knight, when both met in a dish Of buttered vish. One bad, there's ne'er a good; And not a barrel better Hearing among you. Nay Hilts! I pray thee grow not frampul now. Turn not the bad Cow, after thy good soap. Our plot hath hitherto ta'en good effect: And should it now be troubled, or stopped up, 'Twould prove the utter ruin of my hopes. I pray thee haste to Pancridge, to the Cannon: And give him notice of our good success; Will him that all things be in readiness. Fair Audrey, and myself, will cross the fields, The nearest path. Good Hilts, make thou some haste, And meet us on the way. Come gentle Audrey. Vaith, would I had a few more geances on't: An you say the word, sand me to Iericho. Out-cept a man were a Post-horse, I ha' not known The like on't; yet, an he had kind words, 'Twould never irk ' hun. But a man may break His heart out i' these days, and get a flap With a fox-taile, when he has done. And there is all. Nay, say not so Hilts: hold thee; there are Crowns— My love bestows on thee, for thy reward. If Gold will please thee, all my land shall drop In bounty thus, to recompense thy merit. Tut, keep your land, and your gold too Sir: I Seek neither— nother of ' hun. Learn to get Moore: you will know to spend that zum you have Early enough: you are assured of me. I love you too too well, to live o' the spoil: For your own sake, were there were no worse than I All is not Gold that glisters: I'll to Pancridge.
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)
Well, ſo it is, there is a bold young Squire, The blood of Totten, Tub, and Tripoly—. Squire Tub, you meane? I know him: he knowes me too. He is in love with you: and more, he's mad for you. I, ſo he told me: in his wits, I thinke. But hee's too fine for me; and has a Lady Tub to his Mother. Here he comes himſelfe! O you are a truſty Governour! What ailes you? You doe not know when yo'are well, I thinke: You'ld ha' the Calfe with the white face, Sir, would you? I have her for you here; what would you more? Quietnes, Hilts, and heare no more of it. No more of it, quoth you? I doe not care, If ſome on us had not heard ſo much of't, I tell you true; A man muſt carry, and vetch, Like Bungy's dog for you. What's he? A Spaniel. And ſcarce be ſpit i' the mouth for't. A good Dog Deſerves, Sir, a good bone, of a free Maſter: But, an' your turnes be ſerv'd, the divell a bit You care for a man after, ere a Lard of you. Like will to like, y-faith, quoth the ſcab'd Squire To th' mangy Knight, when both met in a diſh Of butter'd viſh. One bad, there's nere a good; And not a barrell better Hering among you. Nay Hilts! I pray thee grow not fram-pull now. Turne not the bad Cow, after thy good ſoape. Our plot hath hitherto tane good effect: And ſhould it now be troubled, or ſtop'd up, 'Twould prove the utter ruine of my hopes. I pray thee haſte to Pancridge, to the Chanon: And gi' him notice of our good ſucceſſe; Will him that all things be in readineſſe. Faire Awdrey, and my ſelfe, will croſſe the fields, The neareſt path. Good Hilts, make thou ſome haſte, And meet us on the way. Come gentle Awdrey. Vaith, would I had a few more geances on't: An' you ſay the word, ſend me to Iericho. Out-cept a man were a Poſt-horſe, I ha' not knowne The like on't; yet, an' he had kind words, 'Twould never irke 'hun. But a man may breake His heart out i' theſe dayes, and get a flap With a fox-taile, when he has done. And there is all. Nay, ſay not ſo Hilts: hold thee; there are Crownes— My love beſtowes on thee, for thy reward. If Gold will pleaſe thee, all my land ſhall drop In bounty thus, to recompence thy merit. Tut, keepe your land, and your gold too Sir: I Seeke neither—nother of 'hun. Learne to get More: you will know to ſpend that zum you have Early enough: you are aſſur'd of me. I love you too too well, to live o' the ſpoyle: For your owne ſake, were there were no worſe then I. All is not Gold that gliſters: Ile to Pancridge.