Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
Ye kind to others, but ye coy to me Deft Mistress! whiter than the cheese, new pressed! Smother than cream! and softer than the curds! Why start ye from me, ere ye hear me tell My wooing errand; and what rends I have? Large herds, and pastures! Swine, and Kie, mine own! And though my na'se be camused, my lips thick, And my chin bristled! Pan, great Pan, was such! Who was the chief of Herdsmen, and our Sire! I am na ' Faith! na ' Incubus! na ' Changlin! But a good man, that lives o' my awne geere. This house! these grounds! this stock is all mine awne! How better 'twere to me, this were not known! She likes it not: but it is boasted well! An hundred Udders for the pail I have, That give me Milk and Curds, that make me Cheese To cloy the Mercatts! twenty swarm of Bees, Whilk (all the Summer) hum about the hive, And bring me Wax, and Honey in by live. An aged Oak the King of all the field, With a broad Beech there grows afore my dur, That mickell Mast unto the farm doth yield. A Chestnut, whilk hath larded money a Swine, Whose skins I wear, to fend me fra the Cold. A Pop●●● green, and with a kerved Seat, Under whose shade I solace in the heat; And thence can see gang out, and in, my neat. Twa trilland brooks, each (from his spring) doth meet, And make a river, to refresh my feet: In which, each morning ere the Sun doth rise, I look myself, and clear my pleasant eyes, Before I pipe; For, therein I have skill 'Bove other Swine'ards. Bid me, and I will Strait play to you, and make you melody. By no means. Ah! to me all minstrelsy Is irksome, as are you. Why scorn you me? Because I am a Herdsman, and feed Swine! I am a Lord of other gear! this sine Smooth Bawsons' Cub, the young Grice of a Grey; Twa tynie Urshins, and this Ferret gay. Out on 'hem! what are these? I give 'em ye; As presents Mistress O, the fiend, and thee! Gar take them hence: they few manned all the claithes, And prick my Coats: hence with 'em, limmer loon, Thy vermin, and thyself, thy self art one; I lock me up. All's well when thou art gone. Did you hear this? she wished me at the fiend, With all my presents! A tu lucky end She wishend thee, fowl Limmer! drittie Lowne! Gud faith, it duills me that I am thy Mother! And see, thy Sister scorns thee, for her Brother! Thou woe thy Love? thy Mistress? with twa Hedge-hoggs? A stinkand brock? a polecat? out thou houlet! Thou shouldst ha'given her, a Madge-Owle! and than Thou hadst made a present o' thyself, Owle-spiegle!
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Yee kind to others, but yee coy to mee Deft Miſtres! whiter then the cheeſe, new preſt! Smoother then creame! and ſofter then the curds! Why ſtart yee from mee, ere yee heare me tell My wooing errand; and what rents I have? Large heards, and paſtures! Swine, and Kie, mine owne! And though my na'ſe be camus'd, my lipps thick, And my chin briſtled! Pan, great Pan, was ſuch! Who was the chiefe of Heardſ-men, and our Sire! I am na' Fay! na' Incubus! na' Changlin! But a good man, that lives o' my awne geere. This houſe! theſe grounds! this ſtock is all mine awne! How better 'twere to mee, this were not knowne! Shee likes it not: but it is boaſted well! An hundred Udders for the payle I have, That gi' mee Milke and Curds, that make mee Cheeſe To cloy the Mercatts! twentie ſwarme of Bees, Whilke (all the Summer) hum about the hive, And bring mee Waxe, and Honey in by live. An aged Oake the King of all the field, With a broad Beech there growes afore my dur, That mickell Maſt unto the ferme doth yeild. A Cheſtnut, whilk hath larded money a Swine, Whoſe skins I weare, to fend me fra the Cold. A Pop greene, and with a kerved Seat, Under whoſe ſhade I ſolace in the heat; And thence can ſee gang out, and in, my neat. Twa trilland brookes, each (from his ſpring) doth meet, And make a river, to refreſh my feet: In which, each morning ere the Sun doth riſe, I look my ſelfe, and cleare my pleaſant eyes, Before I pipe; For, therein I have skill 'Bove other Swine'ards. Bid mee, and I will Straight play to you, and make you melodie. By no meanes. Ah! to me all minſtrelſie Is irkſome, as are you. Why ſcorne you mee? Becauſe I am a Heardſ-man, and feed Swine! I am a Lord of other geere! this ſine Smooth Bawſons Cub, the young Grice of a Gray; Twa tynie Urſhins, and this Ferret gay. Out on 'hem! what are theſe? I give 'hem yee; As preſents Mrs. O, the feind, and thee! Gar take them hence: they few mand all the claithes, And prick my Coates: hence with 'hem, limmer lowne, Thy vermin, and thy ſelfe, thy felfe art one; I lock me up. All's well when thou art gone. Did you heare this? ſhee wiſh'd mee at the feind, With all my preſents! A tu luckie end Shee wiſhend thee, fowle Limmer! drittie Lowne! Gud faith, it duills mee that I am thy Mother! And ſee, thy Siſter ſcornes thee, for her Brother! Thou woo thy Love? thy Miſtreſſe? with twa Hedge-hoggs? A ſtinkand brock? a polcat? out thou houlet! Thou ſhoul'dſt ha'given her, a Madge-Owle! and then Tho' hadſt made a preſent o' thy ſelfe, Owle-ſpiegle!