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 0.79 · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T30: constable, squire, tub, clay, worship, justice, turf, mr, hun, valentine.
You told me, Squire, a quite other tale, But I believed you not, which made me sand Audrey another way, by my Pol-marten: And take my journey back to Kentishtowne, Where we found Iohn Clay hidden i' the barn, To scape the Hue and Cry; and here he is. Iohn Clay age'n! nay, than— set Cock a hoop: I ha' lost no Daughter, nor no money, Justice. Iohn Clay shall pay. I'll look to you now John. Vaith out it must, as good at night, as morning. I am even as vull as a Pipers bag with joy, Or a great Gun upon carnation day! I could weep Lions tears to see you Iohn. 'Tis but two viftie pounds I ha' ventured for you: But now I ha' you, you shall pay whole hundred. Run from your Burroughs, son: faith even be hanged. An you once earth yourself, Iohn, i' the barn, I ha' no Daughter vor you: Who did verret ' hun. My Lady's son, the Squire here, vetched ' hun out. Puppy had put us all in such a uright, We thought the Devil was i' the barn; and no body Durst venture o' hun. I am now resolved, Who shall ha' my Daughter. Who? He best deserves her. Here comes the Vicar. Cannon Hugh, we ha' vound Iohn Clay again! the matter's all come round. Is Metaphor returned yet? All is turned Here to confusion: we ha' lost our plot; I fear my man is run away with the money, And Clay is found, in whom old Turf is sure To save his stake. What shall we do than Justice? The Bride was met i' the young Squires hands. And what's become of her? None here can tell. Was not my Mother's man, Pol-marten, with you? And a strange Gentlewoman in his company, Of late here, Cannon? Yes, and I dispatched 'hem. Dispatched 'hem! how do you mean? Why married 'hem. As they desired; But now. And do you know What you ha' done, Sir Hugh? No harm, I hope. You have ended all the Quarrel. Audrey is married. Married! to whom? My Daughter Audrey married, And she not know of it! Nor her Father, or Mother! Whom hath she married? Your Pol-marten, Madam. A Groom was never dreamt of. Is he a man? That he is Turf, and a Gentleman, I ha' made him. Nay, an he be a Gentleman, let her shifted. She was so brave, I knew her not, I swear; And yet I married her by her own name. But she was so disguised, so Ladylike; I think she did not know herself the while! I married 'em as a mere p●●re of strangers: And they gave out themselves for such. I wish 'em Much joy, as they have given me hearts ease. Than Madam, I'll entreat you now remit Your jealousy of me; and please to take All this good company home with you, to supper: we'll have a merry night of it, and laugh.
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)
You told me, Squire, a quite other tale, But I beleev'd you not, which made me ſend Awdrey another way, by my Pol-marten: And take my journey back to Kentiſh-Towne, Where we found Iohn Clay hidden i' the barne, To ſcape the Huy and Cry; and here he is. Iohn Clay age'n! nay, then — ſet Cock a hoope: I ha' loſt no Daughter, nor no money, Juſtice. Iohn Clay ſhall pay. Ile looke to you now John. Vaith out it muſt, as good at night, as morning. I am ene as vull as a Pipers bag with joy, Or a great Gun upon carnation day! I could weepe Lions teares to ſee you Iohn. 'Tis but two viftie pounds I ha' ventur'd for you: But now I ha' you, you ſhall pay whole hundred. Run from your Burroughs, ſonne: faith ene be hang'd. An' you once earth your ſelfe, Iohn, i' the barne, I ha' no Daughter vor you: Who did verret 'hun. My Ladies ſonne, the Squire here, vetch'd 'hun out. Puppy had put us all in ſuch a vright, We thought the Devill was i' the barne; and no body Durſt venture o' hun. I am now reſolv'd, Who ſhall ha' my Daughter. Who? He beſt deſerves her. Here comes the Vicar. Chanon Hugh, we ha' vound Iohn Clay agen! the matter's all come round. Is Metaphore return'd yet? All is turn'd Here to confuſion: we ha' loſt our plot; I feare my man is run away with the money, And Clay is found, in whom old Turfe is ſure To ſave his ſtake. What ſhall wee doe then Juſtice? The Bride was met i' the young Squires hands. And what's become of her? None here can tell. Was not my Mothers man, Pol-marten, with you? And a ſtrange Gentlewoman in his company, Of late here, Chanon? Yes, and I diſpatch'd 'hem. Diſpatch'd 'hem! how doe you meane? Why married 'hem. As they deſir'd; But now. And doe you know What you ha' done, Sir Hugh? No harme, I hope. You have ended all the Quarrell. Awdrey is married. Married! to whom? My Daughter Awdrey married, And ſhe not know of it! Nor her Father, or Mother! Whom hath ſhe married? Your Pol-marten, Madam. A Groome was never dreamt of. Is he a man? That he is Turfe, and a Gentleman, I ha' made him. Nay, an' he be a Gentleman, let her ſhift. She was ſo brave, I knew her not, I ſweare; And yet I married her by her owne name. But ſhe was ſo diſguis'd, ſo Lady-like; I thinke ſhe did not know her ſelfe the while! I married 'hem as a meere pre of ſtrangers: And they gave out themſelves for ſuch. I wiſh 'hem Much joy, as they have given me hearts eaſe. Then Madam, Ile intreat you now remit Your jealouſie of me; and pleaſe to take All this good company home with you, to ſupper: Wee'll have a merry night of it, and laugh.