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 0.74 · 519 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T30: constable, squire, tub, clay, worship, justice, turf, mr, hun, valentine.
Zure, you can gauge ' hun. To a streak, or less: I know his d'ameters, and circumference: A Knight is six diameters; and a Squire Is vive, and zomewhat more: I know't by compass, And scale of man. I have upo' my rule here, The just perportions of a Knight, a Squire; With a tame Justice, or an Officer, rampant, Vpo' the bench, from the high Constable Down to the Head-borough, or Tithing-man; Or meanest Minister o'the peace, God save ' un. Why, you can tell us by the Squire, Neighbour, Whence he is called a Constable, and whaffore. Not, that's a bookcase: Scriben can do that. That's writing and reading, and records. Two words, Cyning and Staple, make a Constable: As we'd say, A hold, or stay for the King. All Constables are truly John's for the King, What ere their names are; be they Tony, or Roger. And all are sworn, as vingars o' one hand, To hold together 'gainst the breach o' the peace; The High Constable is the Thumb, as one would zay, The holdfast o' the rest. Pray luck he speed Well i' the business, between Captain Thumbs, And him. I'll warrant' un for a groat: I have his measures here in Rithmetique. How he should bear un self in all the lines Of's place, and office: Let's seek 'un out. Hilts, how dost thou like o' this our good days work? As good even ne'er a whit, as ne'er the better. Shall we to Pancridge, or to Kentishtowne, Hilts? Let Kentishtowne, or Pancridge come to us, If either will: I will go home again. Faith Basket, our success hath been but bad, And nothing prospers, that we undertake; For we can neither meet with Clay, nor Audrey, The Cannon Hugh, nor Turf the Constable: We are like men that wander in strange woods, And lose ourselves in search of them we seek. This was because we risen on the wrong side: But as I am now here, just in the midway, I'll zet my sword on the pommel, and that line The point valles too, we'll take. whether it be To Kentishtowne, the Church, or home again. Stay, stay thy hand: here's Justice Brambles Clerk, The unlucky Hare hath crossed us all this day. I'll stand aside whilst thou pump'st out of him His business, Hilts; and how he's now employed. Let me alone? I'll use him in his kind. O for a Pad-horse, Packhorse, or a Post-horse, To bear me on his neck, his back, or his croupe! I am as weary with running, as a Mill-horse That hath led the Mill once, twice, thrice about, After the breath hath been out of his body. I could get up upon a pannier, a panel, Or, to say truth, a very Packsadle, Till all my honey were turned into gall; And I could sit in the seat no longer, O the legs of a lackey now, or a footman, Who is the Surbater of a Clerk currant, And the confounder of his treslesse dormant. But who have we here, just in the nick?
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)
Zure, you can gage 'hun. To a ſtreake, or leſſe: I know his d'ameters, and circumference: A Knight is ſixe diameters; and a Squire Is vive, and zomewhat more: I know't by compaſſe, And skale of man. I have upo' my rule here, The juſt perportions of a Knight, a Squire; With a tame Juſtice, or an Officer, rampant, Vpo' the bench, from the high Conſtable Downe to the Head-borough, or Tithing-man; Or meaneſt Miniſter o'the peace, God ſave 'un. Why, you can tell us by the Squire, Neighbour, Whence he is call'd a Conſtable, and whaffore. No, that's a booke-caſe: Scriben can doe that. That's writing and reading, and records. Two words, Cyning and Staple, make a Conſtable: As wee'd ſay, A hold, or ſtay for the King. All Conſtables are truly Iohn's for the King, What ere their names are; be they Tony, or Roger. And all are ſworne, as vingars o' one hand, To hold together 'gainſt the breach o' the peace; The High Conſtable is the Thumbe, as one would zay, The hold-faſt o' the reſt. Pray luck he ſpeed Well i' the buſines, betweene Captaine Thums, And him. 'Ile warrant 'un for a groat: I have his meaſures here in Rithmetique. How he ſhould beare un ſelfe in all the lines Of's place, and office: Let's zeeke 'un out. Hilts, how do'ſt thou like o' this our good dayes worke? As good ene nere a whit, as nere the better. Shall we to Pancridge, or to Kentiſh-Towne, Hilts? Let Kentiſh-Towne, or Pancridge come to us, If either will: I will goe home againe. Faith Basket, our ſucceſſe hath beene but bad, And nothing proſpers, that wee undertake; For we can neither meet with Clay, nor Awdrey, The Chanon Hugh, nor Turfe the Conſtable: We are like men that wander in ſtrange woods, And looſe our ſelves in ſearch of them wee ſeeke. This was becauſe wee roſe on the wrong ſide: But as I am now here, juſt in the mid-way, Ile zet my ſword on the pommell, and that line The point valles too, wee'll take. whether it be To Kentiſh-Towne, the Church, or home againe. Stay, ſtay thy hand: here's Juſtice Brambles Clarke, The unlucky Hare hath croſt us all this day. Ile ſtand aſide whilſt thou pump'ſt out of him His buſines, Hilts; and how hee's now employed. Let mee alone? Ile uſe him in his kind. Oh for a Pad-horſe, Pack-horſe, or a Poſt-horſe, To beare me on his neck, his back, or his croupe! I am as weary with running, as a Mil-horſe That hath led the Mill once, twice, thrice about, After the breath hath beene out of his body. I could get up upon a pannier, a pannell, Or, to ſay truth, a very Pack-ſadle, Till all my honey were turn'd into gall; And I could it in the ſeat no longer, Oh the legs of a lackey now, or a foot-man, Who is the Surbater of a Clarke currant, And the confounder of his treſleſſe dormant. But who have we here, juſt in the nick?