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 0.82 · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T30: constable, squire, tub, clay, worship, justice, turf, mr, hun, valentine.
How? how? stand by a little, sirrah, you With the badge o' your breast. Let's know Sir what you are? I am Sir (pray you do not look so terribly) A Purs'yvant. A Purs'yvant? your name Sir? My name Sir— What is't? speak? Miles Metaphor; And Justice Preambles Clerk. What says he? Pray you, Let us alone. You are a Purs'yvant? No faith, Sir, would I might never stir from you, I is made a Purs'yvant against my william. Ha! and who made you one? tell true, or my will Shall make you nothing, instantly. Put up Your frightful Blade; and your dead-doing look, And I shall tell you all. Speak than the truth, And the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. My Master, Justice Bramble, hearing your Master, The Squire Tub, was coming on this way, With Mrs. Audrey, the high Constable's Daughter; Made me a Purs'yvant: and gave me warrant To arrest him, so that he might get the Lady, With whom he is gone to Pancridge, to the Vicar, Not to her Fathers. This was the device, Which I beseek you, do not tell my Master. O wonderful! well Basket, let him rise: And for my free escape, forge some excuse. I'll post to Paddington, t' acquaint old Turf, With the whole business, and so stop the marriage. Well, bless thee: I do wish thee grace, to keep Thy Master's secrets, better, or be hanged. I thank you, for your gentle admonition. Pray you, let me call you Godfather hereafter. And as your Godson Metaphor I promise', To keep my Master's privities, sealed up I' the valleys o' my trust, locked close for ever, Or let me be trussed up at Tyburn shortly. Thy own wish, save, or choke thee; Come away. PAssion of me, was ever man thus crossed? All things run Arsie-Varsie; upside down. High Constable! Now by our Lady o' Walsingham. I had rather be mark'd out Tom Scavinger. And with a shovel make clean the high ways, Than have this office of a Constable, And a high Constable! The higher charge It brings more trouble, more vexation with it. Neighbours, good neighbours,' advise me what to do: How we shall bear us in this Hue and Cry. We cannot found the Captain; no such man Lodged at the Lion, nor came thither hurt. The morning we ha' spent in privy search; And by that means the Bride-ale is differred; The Bride, she's left alone in Puppie's charge; The Bridegroom goes under a pair of sureties; And held of all as a respected person. How should we bustle forward? Give some counsel, How to bestir our stumps i' these cross ways. Faith Gossip Turf, you have, you say, Remission, To comprehend all such, as are dispected: Now, would I make another privy search Through this Town, and than you have zearched two towns.
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)
How? how? ſtand by a little, ſirrah, you With the badge o' your breſt. Let's know Sir what you are? I am Sir (pray you doe not looke ſo terribly) A Purs'yvant. A Purs'yvant? your name Sir? My name Sir— What is't? ſpeake? Miles Metaphor; And Juſtice Preambles Clarke. What ſayes he? Pray you, Let us alone. You are a Purs'yvant? No faith, Sir, would I might never ſtirre from you, I' is made a Purs'yvant againſt my will. Ha! and who made you one? tell true, or my will Shall make you nothing, inſtantly. Put up Your frightfull Blade; and your dead-doing looke, And I ſhall tell you all. Speake then the truth, And the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. My Maſter, Juſtice Bramble, hearing your Maſter, The Squire Tub, was comming on this way, With Mrs. Awdrey, the high Conſtables Daughter; Made me a Purs'yvant: and gave me warrant To arreſt him, ſo that hee might get the Lady, With whom he is gone to Pancridge, to the Vicar, Not to her Fathers. This was the device, Which I beſeek you, doe not tell my Maſter. O wonderfull! well Basket, let him riſe: And for my free eſcape, forge ſome excuſe. Ile poſt to Paddington, t' acquaint old Turfe, With the whole buſines, and ſo ſtop the mariage. Well, bleſſe thee: I doe wiſh thee grace, to keepe Thy Maſters ſecrets, better, or be hang'd. I thanke you, for your gentle admonition. Pray you, let me call you God-father hereafter. And as your God-ſonne Metaphore I promiſe, To keepe my Maſters privities, ſeald up I' the vallies o' my truſt, lock'd cloſe for ever, Or let me be truſs'd up at Tiburne ſhortly. Thine owne wiſh, ſave, or choake thee; Come away. PAſſion of me, was ever man thus croſs'd? All things run Arſie-Varſie; upſide downe. High Conſtable! Now by our Lady o' Walſingham. I had rather be mark'd out Tom Scavinger. And with a ſhovell make cleane the high wayes, Then have this office of a Conſtable, And a high Conſtable! The higher charge It brings more trouble, more vexation with it. Neighbours, good neighbours, 'vize me what to doe: How wee ſhall beare us in this Huy and Cry. We cannot find the Captaine; no ſuch man Lodg'd at the Lion, nor came thither hurt. The morning wee ha' ſpent in privie ſearch; And by that meanes the Bride-ale is differr'd; The Bride, ſhee's left alone in Puppie's charge; The Bride-groome goes under a paire of ſureties; And held of all as a reſpected perſon. How ſhould we buſsle forward? Gi' ſome counſell, How to beſtirre our ſtumps i' theſe croſſe wayes. Faith Goſſip Turfe, you have, you ſay, Remiſſion, To comprehend all ſuch, as are diſpected: Now, would I make another privie ſearch Through this Towne, and then you have zearch'd two towns.