Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T46: rapier, sword, fight, gentlemen, gentleman, kicked, kill, dagger, signor, valour.
By S. Anne I think therein thou say well, For I know thereof I am like to here tell. Why man a little while breaketh no square. Tush help hath excuse, to colour that care. Yea but already we have tarried to long. Why then ye were best go without a song. Nay I will tarry to sing, though therefore I should die. My help to singing, I did never deny. ¶Why then syrs haue at it coragiously. FYrst Corage causeth mindes of men, to wish for good or ill: And some by Corage now and then, at Tiborne make their will. Helpe, Profite, and Furtheraunce do fayne, Where Corrage doth catch in any mans brayne. ¶Then helpe in hope to haue his pray, full secretly doth wayte: And as the time doth serue alway, he throweth forth his bayte. Helpe, Profite, &c. ¶Profite prolongeth not the time, to please his paynted mind: He passeth not though mayster pyne, so he his pleasure find. Helpe, Profite. &c. ¶And Furtheraunce, thou last of all, he came into the rowte: He wayeth not his maysters thrall, nor séekes to helpe him out. Helpe, Profite, &c. Now Courage farewell for we must be gone. Nay sirs you two shall not go alone, For I do mean to bear you company, And so shall we be even a whole trinity. Therefore Courage adowe. Sir here was a trinity in a witness, A man might have shaped three knaves by their likeness. A trinity much like to the trinity of late, Where good wife Gull, broke her good man's pate. In came her man to make up the number, Who had his nose should, with the steal of a scumber. But in fine, these three began to agree, And knit themselves up in one trinity. And after they loved like brother and brother, For very love, they did kill one another. And then they were buried, I do well remember, In Stawton's straw hat, vii. mile from December. Where they had not lain the space of a day, But four of those three, were thence run away. The Constable came, with a back on his bill, And because they were gone, he did them kill. I Courage so cleft their Cushions asunder, To see how they bled, it made me to wonder. I myself was smitten twice to the ground, I was very sore hurt, but I had not a wound. I buskled myself as though fight I would, And took me to my legs as fast as I could. And so with much pain hither I did come, But hushed sirs I say, no more words but mum. Tush talk not of that, for in vain you do prate, For there are none but fools, that wealthiness do hate. What Greediness I say, why what is the matter, Master wealthiness I would say, whereon do you clatter?
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)
¶By S. Anne I thinke therein thou say well, For I know thereof I am like to here tell. ¶Why man a little while breaketh no square. ¶Tush helpe hath excuse, to collour that care. ¶Yea but already we haue tarryed to long. ¶Why then ye were best goe without a song. ¶Nay I will tarry to sing, though therefore I should dye. ¶My helpe to singing, I did neuer denye. ¶Why then syrs haue at it coragiously. FYrst Corage causeth mindes of men, to wish for good or ill: And some by Corage now and then, at Tiborne make their will. Helpe, Profite, and Furtheraunce do fayne, Where Corrage doth catch in any mans brayne. ¶Then helpe in hope to haue his pray, full secretly doth wayte: And as the time doth serue alway, he throweth forth his bayte. Helpe, Profite, &c. ¶Profite prolongeth not the time, to please his paynted mind: He passeth not though mayster pyne, so he his pleasure find. Helpe, Profite. &c. ¶And Furtheraunce, thou last of all, he came into the rowte: He wayeth not his maysters thrall, nor séekes to helpe him out. Helpe, Profite, &c. ¶Now Corage farewell for we must be gone. ¶Nay syrs you two shall not go alone, For I doe meane to beare you company, And so shall we be euen a whole trinity. Therefore Corage adowe. ¶Syr here was a trinity in a witnesse, A man might haue shapte thrée knaues by their likenesse. A trinity much like to the trinity of late, Where good wife Gull, brake her good mans pate. In came her man to make vp the number, Who had his nose shode, with the steale of a scumber. But in fyne, these thrée began to agrée, And knit them selues vp in one trinity. And after they loued like brother and brother, For very loue, they did kill one another. And then they were buried, I doe well remember, In Stawtons strawne hat, vij. mile from December. Where they had not lyen the space of a day, But fower of those thrée, were thence run away. The Constable came, with a backe on his bill, And because they were gone, he did them kill. I Corage so cleft their Cushions a sunder, To sée how they bled, it made me to wonder. I my selfe was smitten twise to the ground, I was very sore hurt, but I had not a wound. I buskeled my selfe as though fight I would, And tooke me to my legges as fast as I could. And so with much payne hither I did come, But husht syrs I say, no moe wordes but mum. ¶Tushe talke not of that, for in vayne you doe prate, For there are none but fooles, that welthines doe hate. ¶What Gréedinesse I say, why what is the matter, Mayster welthinesse I would say, whereon doe you clatter