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 0.78 · 498 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T30: constable, squire, tub, clay, worship, justice, turf, mr, hun, valentine.
What is become o'the Squire, and thy Prisoner? The lines of blood, ran streaming from my head, Can speak what rule the Squire hath kept with me. I pray thee Miles relate the manner, how? Be't known unto you, by these presents, than, That I Miles Metaphor, your worship's Clerk: Have even been beaten, to an Allegory, By multitude of hands. Had they been but Some five or six, I had whipped 'em all, like tops In Lent, and hurled 'em into Hoblers-hole; Or the next ditch: I had cracked all their costards, As nimbly as a Squirrel will crack nuts: And flourished like to Hercules, the Porter Among the Pages. But, when they came on Like Bees about a Hive, Crows about carrion, Flies about sweet meats; nay, like water-men About a Fare: than was poor Metaphor Glad to give up the honour of the day, To quit his charge to them, and run away To save his life, only to tell this news. How indirectly all things have fall'n out! I cannot choose bat wonder what they were Rescued your rival from the keep of Miles: But most of all I cannot well digest, The manner how our purpose came to Turf. Miles, I will see that all thy hurts be dressed. As for the Squires escape, it matters not: We have by this means disappointed him; And that was all the main I aimed at. But Cannon Hugh, now muster up thy wits, And call thy thoughts into the Consistory. Search all the secret corners of thy cap, To found another quaint devised drift, To disappoint her marriage with this Clay; Do that, and He reward thee jovially. Well said Magister Justice. If I fit you not With such a new, and well-laid stratagem, As never yet your ears did hear a finer, Call me, with Lily, Bos, Fur, Sus, atque Sacerdos. I hear, there's comfort in thy words yet, Cannon. I'll trust thy regulars, and say no more. I'll follow too. And if the dapper Priest Be but as cunning, point in his de vice, As I was in my lie: my Master Preamble Will stalk, as led by the nose with these new promises, And fatted with supposes of fine hopes. Well Madam, I may thank the Squire your son: For, but for him, I had been overreached. Now heavens blessing light upon his heart: We are beholden to him, indeed Madam. But can you not resolve me where he is? Nor about what his purposes were bend? Madam, they no whit were concerning me: And therefore was I less inquisitive. Fair maid, in faith, speak truth, and not dissemble: Does he not often come, and visit you? His worship now, and than, please you, taketh pains To see my Father, and Mother: But for me, I know myself too mean for his high thoughts To stoop at, more than ask a light question, To make him merry, or to pass his time.
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)
What is become o'the Squire, and thy Priſoner? The lines of blood, ran ſtreaming from my head, Can ſpeake what rule the Squire hath kept with me. I pray thee Miles relate the manner, how? Be't knowne unto you, by theſe preſents, then, That I Miles Metaphore, your worſhips Clarke: Have ene beene beaten, to an Allegory, By multitude of hands. Had they beene but Some five or ſixe, I' had whip'd 'hem all, like tops In Lent, and hurl'd 'hem into Hoblers-hole; Or the next ditch: I had crack'd all their coſtards, As nimbly as a Squirrell will crack nuts: And flouriſhed like to Hercules, the Porter Among the Pages. But, when they came on Like Bees about a Hive, Crowes about carrion, Flies about ſweet meats; nay, like water-men About a Fare: then was poore Metaphore Glad to give up the honour of the day, To quit his charge to them, and run away To ſave his life, onely to tell this newes. How indirectly all things have falne out! I cannot chooſe bat wonder what they were Reskued your rivall from the keepe of Miles: But moſt of all I cannot well digeſt, The manner how our purpoſe came to Turfe. Miles, I will ſee that all thy hurts be dreſt. As for the Squires eſcape, it matters not: Wee have by this meanes diſappointed him; And that was all the maine I aimed at. But Chanon Hugh, now muſter up thy wits, And call thy thoughts into the Conſiſtory. Search all the ſecret corners of thy cap, To find another queint deviſed drift, To diſappoint her mariage with this Clay; Doe that, and He reward thee jovially. Well ſaid Magiſter Juſtice. If I fit you not With ſuch a new, and well-laid ſtratagem, As never yet your eares did heare a finer, Call me, with Lilly, Bos, Fur, Sus, at que Sacerdos. I heare, there's comfort in thy words yet, Chanon. Ile truſt thy regulars, and ſay no more. Ile follow too. And if the dapper Prieſt Be but as cunning, point in his de viſe, As I was in my lie: my Maſter Preamble Will ſtalke, as led by the noſe with theſe new promiſes, And fatted with ſuppoſes of fine hopes. Well Madam, I may thanke the Squire your ſonne: For, but for him, I had beene over-reach'd. Now heavens bleſſing light upon his heart: Wee are beholden to him, indeed Madam. But can you not reſolve me where he is? Nor about what his purpoſes were bent? Madam, they no whit were concerning me: And therefore was I leſſe inquiſitive. Faire maid, in faith, ſpeake truth, and not diſſemble: Do's hee not often come, and viſit you? His worſhip now, and then, pleaſe you, takes paines To ſee my Father, and Mother: But for me, I know my ſelfe too meane for his high thoughts To ſtoop at, more then asking a light queſtion, To make him merry, or to paſſe his time.