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 0.75 · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T30: constable, squire, tub, clay, worship, justice, turf, mr, hun, valentine.
Not, Mr. In-and-In, my Tale of a Tub. By your leave, I am Tub, the Tale's of me, And my adventures! I am Squire Tub, Subjectum Fabulae. But I the Author. The Workman Sir! the Artificer! I grant you. So Skelton-Lawreat; was of Elinour Bumming: But she the subject of the Rout, and Tunning. He has put you to it, Neighbour In-and-In. Do not dispute with him, he still will win. That pays for all. Are you revised o''at? A man may have wit, and yet put of his hat. Now, Sir this Tub, I will have capt with paper: A fine oiled Lanterne-paper, that we use. Yes every Barber, every Cutler has it. Which in it doth contain the light to the business. And shall with the very vapour of the Candle, Drive all the motions of our matter about: As we present 'hem. For example, first The worshipful Lady Tub. Right worshipful, I pray you, I am worshipful myself. Your Squire-ships Mother, passeth by (her Usher, Mr. Pol-marten bareheaded before her) In her velvet Gown. But how shall the Spectators? As it might be, I, or Hilts, know 'tis my Mother? Or that Pol-marten there that walks before her. O we do nothing, if we clear not that. You ha' seen none of his works Sir? All the postures Of the trained bands o'the Country. All their colours. And all their Captains. All the Cries o' the City: And all the trades i' their habits. He has his whistle Of command: Seat of authority! And verge to ' interpret, tipped with silver, Sir You know not him. Well, I will leave all to him: Give me the brief o' your subject. Leave the whole State of the thing to me. Supper is ready, Sir. My Lady calls for you. I'll sand it you in writing. Sir, I will tender feazible, and facile, What you expect. Hilts, be't your care, To see the Wise of Finsbury made welcome: Let 'em want nothing. Iz old Rosin sent for? he's come within. Lord! what a world of business The Squire dispatches! He is a learned man: I think there are but view o' the Inns o' Court, Or the Inns o' Chancery like him. Care to fit' un than. Yonder's another wedding, Master Basket, Brought in by Vicar Hugh. what are they, Iack? The High Constable's Man, Ball Hanny; and Mrs. Wispes, Our Lady's woman. And are the Table merry? There's a young Tile-maker makes all laugh; He will not eat his meat, but cries at th' board, He shall be hanged. He has lost his wench already: As good be hanged. Was she that is Pol-marten, Our fellow's Mistress, wench to that sneak- Iohn? I faith, Black Iack, he should have been her Bridegroom: But I must go to wait o' my wise Masters. Iack, you shall wait on me, and see the Mask anon: I am half Lord Chamberlin, i' my Master's absence. Shall we have a Masque? Who makes it? In-and-In. The Maker of Islington: Come go with me To the sage sentences of Finsbury.
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)
No, Mr. In-and-In, my Tale of a Tub. By your leave, I am Tub, the Tale's of me, And my adventures! I am Squire Tub, Subjectum Fabulae. But I the Author. The Worke-man Sir! the Artificer! I grant you. So Skelton-Lawreat; was of Elinour Bumming: But ſhe the ſubject of the Rout, and Tunning. He has put you to it, Neighbour In-and-In. Doe not diſpute with him, he ſtill will win. That paies for all. Are you revis'd o'that? A man may have wit, and yet put off his hat. Now, Sir this Tub, I will have capt with paper: A fine oild Lanterne-paper, that we uſe. Yes every Barber, every Cutler has it. Which in it doth containe the light to the buſines. And ſhall with the very vapour of the Candle, Drive all the motions of our matter about: As we preſent 'hem. For example, firſt The worſhipfull Lady Tub. Right worſhipfull, I pray you, I am worſhipfull my ſelfe. Your Squire-ſhips Mother, paſſeth by (her Huiſher, Mr. Pol-marten bareheaded before her) In her velvet Gowne. But how ſhall the Spectators? As it might be, I, or Hilts, know 'tis my Mother? Or that Pol-marten there that walkes before her. O wee doe nothing, if we cleare not that. You ha' ſeene none of his workes Sir? All the poſtures Of the train'd bands o'the Countrey. All their colours. And all their Captaines. All the Cries o' the Citie: And all the trades i' their habits. He has his whiſtle Of command: Seat of authority! And virge to' interpret, tip'd with ſilver, Sir You know not him. Well, I will leave all to him: Give me the briefe o' your ſubject. Leave the whole State of the thing to me. Supper is ready, Sir. My Lady cals for you. Ile ſend it you in writing. Sir, I will render feazible, and facile, What you expect. Hilts, be't your care, To ſee the Wiſe of Finsbury made welcome: Let 'hem want nothing. Iz old Roſin ſent for? Hee's come within. Lord! what a world of buſines The Squire diſpatches! Hee is a learned man: I thinke there are but vew o' the Innes o' Court, Or the Innes o' Chancery like him. Care to fit 'un then. Yonder's another wedding, Maſter Basket, Brought in by Vicar Hugh. what are they, Iack? The High Conſtables Man, Ball Hanny; and Mrs. Wiſpes, Our Ladies woman. And are the Table merry? There's a young Tile-maker makes all laugh; He will not eate his meat, but cryes at th' boord, He ſhall be hang'd. He has loſt his wench already: As good be hang'd. Was ſhe that is Pol-marten, Our fellowes Miſtris, wench to that ſneake-Iohn? I faith, Black Iack, he ſhould have beene her Bride-groome: But I muſt goe to waite o' my wiſe Maſters. Iack, you ſhall waite on me, and ſee the Maske anone: I am halfe Lord Chamberlin, i' my Maſters abſence. Shall wee have a Maſque? Who makes it? In-and-In. The Maker of Iſlington: Come goe with me To the ſage ſentences of Finsbury.