Stevenson, William · published 1575 · first performed or written 1553 [c.1552-1563] (Annals) comedy · at University unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 511 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
AS Gammer Gurton, with many a wide stitch Sat pesynge & patching of Hodge her man's briche By chance or misfortune as shes her grare to In Hodge leather breeches her needle she lost, When Diccon the bedlam had hear by report That good Gammer Gurton was robbed in this sort, He quietly persuaded with her in that stound Dame Chat her dear gossip this needle had found, Yet knew she no more of this matter (alas) Then knoweth Tom our clerk what the Priest saith at mass hereof there ensued so fearful a fray, Mass Doctor was sent for these gossips to stay, Because he was Curate, and esteemed full wise Who found that he sought not, by Diccon's device, When all things were tumbled and clean out of fashion Whether it were by fortune, or some other constellation Suddenly the needle Hodge found by the pricking And drew it out of his buttock where he felt it sticking Their hearts then at rest with perfect security, With a pot of good nail they stroke up their plaudite. MAny a mile have I walked, divers and sundry ways And many a good man's house have I been at in my days Many a gossip's cup in my time have I tasted And many a brooch and spit, have I both turned and basted Many a piece of bacon have I had out of their balks In running over the country, with long and were walks, Yet came my foot never, within those door cheeks, To seek flesh or fish, Garlic, Onions or Leeks. That ever I saw a sort, in such a plight As here within this house appeareth to my sight, There is howlynge and scolyng al adamye, With whewling and puling, as though they had lost a trump Sighing and sobbing, they weep and they wail I marvel in my mind, what the devil they ail The old Trot sits groaning, with alas and alas, And Tib wrings her hands, and takes on in worse case With poor Cock their boy, they be driven in such fits I fear me the folks be not well in their wits, Ask them what they ail, or who brought them in this stay? They answer not at all, but alack and wellaway When I saw it booted not, out at doors I hied me And caught a slip of Bacon, when I saw that none spied me, Which I intend not far hence, unless my purpose fail Shall serve for a shoeing-horn to draw on two pots of ale. SEe so cham arrayed with dabbling in the dirt She that set me to ditching, ich would she had the squirt Was never poor soul that such a life had? gog's bones this vylthy glaye hase dressed me to bad God's soul, see how this stuff tears Iche were better to be a Bearward and set to keep Bears By the Mass here is a gash, a shameful hole indeed And one stitch tear further, a man may thrust in his head.
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)
AS Gāmer Gurton, with manye a wyde styche Sat pesynge & patching of Hodgher mās briche By chance or misfortune as shes her grare to In Hodge lether bryches her needle shee lost▪ When Diccon the bedlem had hard by report That good Gāmer Gurton was obe in thys sorte, He quyetly perswaded with her in that stound Dame Chat her deare gossyp this needle had found, Yet knew shee no more of this matter (alas) Then knoeth Tom our clarke what the Priest saith at masse Here of there ensued so fearfull a fraye, Mas Doctor was sent for these gossyps to staye, Because he was Curate, and estemed full wyse Who found that he sought not, by Diccous deuice, When all thinges were tombled and cleane out of fassion Whether it were by fortune, or some other constellacion Sodenlye the neele Hodge found by the prickynge And drew it out of his bottocke where he felt it stickynge Theyr hartes then at rest with perfect securytie, With a pot of good nale they stroake vp theyr plauditie. MAny a myle haue I walked, diuers and sundry wai And many a good mās house haue I bin at in my daies Many a gossips cup in my tyme haue I tasted An many a broche and spyt, haue I both turned and basted Many a peece of acon haue I had out of thir balkes In ronnyng ouer the countrey, with long and were walkes, Yet came my foote nuer, within those doore chekes, To seeke flesh or fysh▪ Garlyke, Onyons or Leckes. That euer I saw a sorte, in such a plyght As here within this house aperth to my sght, There is howlynge and scolyng al adamye, With whewling and pewling, as though they had lost a trump Syghing and sobbing, they weepe and they wayle I maruell in my mynd, what the deuill they ayle The olde Trot syts groning, with alas and alas, And Tib wringes her hands, and takes on in worse case With poore Cocke theyr boye, they be dryuen in such fyts I feare mee the folkes be not well in theyr wyts, Aske them what they ayle, or who brought them in this staye? They aunswer not at all, but alacke and welaway Whan I saw it booted not, out at doores I hyed mee And caught a slyp of Bacon, when I saw that none spyed mee, Which I intend not far hence, vnles my purpose fayle Shall serue for a shoinghorne to draw on two pots of ale. SEe so cham arayed with dablynge in the durt She that set me to ditchinge, ich wold she had the squrt Was neuer poore soule that such a life had? Gogs bones thys vylthy glaye hase drest mee to bad Gods soule, see how this stuffe teares Iche were better to bee a Bearward and set to keepe Beares By the Masse here is a gasshe, a shamefull hole in deade And one stytch teare furder, a man may thruste in his heade.