Stevenson, William · published 1575 · first performed or written 1553 [c.1552-1563] (Annals) comedy · at University unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
Alas sir, he'll be here anon, ha' be handled to bad. Master bailie, sir ye be not such a fool well I know, But ye perceive by this lingering, there is a pad in the straw. Thinking that Hodg, his head was broke, and that gammer Would not let him come before them. Chil show you his face, ich warrant thee, lo now where he is. Come on fellow it is told me thou art a shrew iwis, Thy neighbour's hens thou takest, and plays the two legged fore Their chickens & their capons to, & now and then their Cocks. Ich defy them all that dare it say, cham as true as the best. Wart not thou take within this hour, in dame chats hen's nest? Take there? no master chold not dot, for a house full of gold. Thou or the devil in thy cote, swear this I dare be bold. ¶ wre me no swearing quean, the deuill h the sorow, All is not worth a gnat, thou canst swear till to morrow, Where is the harm he hath? show it by God's bread, Ye beat him with a witness, but the stripes light on my head. Bet me? gog's blessed body, chold first ich trow have burst the Ich thinke and chad my hands loose callet chould haue crust th. Thou shitten knave I trow thou knowest the full weight of my fist I am foully deceived, unless thy head & my door bar kissed Hold thy chat whore thou criest so loud, can no man else be hard Well knave, & I had the alone, I would surely rap the costard. Sir answer me to this, is thy head whole or broken? Yea master bailie, blessed be every good token. Is my head whole? ich warrant you, 'tis neither scurvy nor sealed What you foul beast, does think 'tis either pilled or bald. Nay ich thank god: chil not for all that thou mayst spend That chad one scab on my narse, as broad as thy finger's end. Come nearer hear. Yes That iche dare. By our Lady here is no harm, Hodges head is hole enough, for all dame Chats charm. By gog's blessed, however the thing he clocks or smolders, I know the blows he bore away, either with head or shoulders, Camest thou not knave within this hour, creeping into my pens And there was caught within my house, groping among my hens. A plague both on thy hens & thee, a cart whore, a cart, Chould I were hanged as high as a tree, & chware as false as thou art Geue my gāmer again her washial, yu stole away in thy lap. Yea master baily there is a thing, you know not on may hay This drab she keeps away my good, the devil he might her snare Ich pray you that ich might have, a right action on her.
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)
¶ Alas sir, heel be here anon, h be handled to ad. ¶ Master bayly, sir ye be not such a foole wel I know, But ye perceiue by this lingring, there is a pad in the straw. Thinking that Hodg, his head was broke, and that gammer Wold not let him come before them. ¶ Chl shew you his face, ich warrant the, lo now where he is. ¶ Come on fellow it is tolde me thou art a shrew iwysse, Thy neighbours hens yu takest, and playes he two legged fore Their chikens & their capns to, & now and then their Cocks. ¶ Ich defy them al that dare it say, cham as true as the best. ¶ Wart not yu take within this houre, in dame hats hens nest? ¶ Take there? no master chold not dot, for a house ful of gold. ¶ Thou or the deuil in thy ote, sweare this I dare be bold. ¶ wre me no swearing quean, the deuill h the sorow, Al is not worth a gua, thou canst sweare till to morow, Where is the harme he hath? shew it by gods bread, Ye beat him with a witnes, but the stripes light on my head. ¶ Bet me? gogs blessed body, chold first ich trow haue burst the Ich thinke and chad my hands loose callet chould haue crust th. ¶ Thou shittē knaue I trow yu knowest ye ful weiht of my fist I am fowly deceiued, onles thy head & my dore bar kyste ¶ Hold thy chat whore yu criest so loude, man els be hard ¶ Well knaue, & I had the alone, I rely rap th costard. ¶ Sir answer me to this, is thy head whole or broken? ¶ Yea master Bayly, blest be euer good token. ¶ Is my head whole? ich warrāt you, tis neither scuruy nor seald What you foule beast, does think tis either pil or bald. Nay ich thanke god: chil not for al that thou maist spnd That chad one scab on my narse, as brode as thy fingers end. ¶ Come nearer heare. ¶ Yes That iche dare. ¶ By our Lady here is no harme, Hodges head is hole ynough, for al dame Chats charme. ¶ By gogs blest, how euer the thing he clockes or smolders, I know the blowes he bae away, either wt head or shoulders, Camest yu not knaue within this houre, creping into my pens And there was caught within my hous, gropīg among my hens. ¶A plage both on thy hens & the, a carte whre, a carte, Chould I were hāged as hie as a tree, & chware as false as yu art Geue my gāmer again her washial, yu stole away in thy lap. ¶ Yea maister baily there is a thing, you know not on may hay This drab she kepes away my good, ye deuil he might her snare Ich pray you that ich might haue, a right action on her.