Whetstone, George · published 1578 · first performed or written 1578 [1576-1579] (Annals) comedy · Unacted unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
Triumph fair Lamia now, thy wanton flag advance, Set forth thyself to bravest show, boast thou of happy chance: Girl, account thou thyself the chief, of Lady Pleasure's train, Thy face is fair, thy form content, thy Fortunes both doth strain. Even as thou wouldst, thy house doth stand, thy furniture is gay, Thy weeds are brave, thy face is fine, & who for this doth pay? Thou thyself no, the rushing Youths, the bathe in wanton bliss, Yea, old and dooting fools sometimes, do help to pay for this. Free cost between them both I have, all this for my behove, I am the stern, that gides their thoughts, look what I like, they love Few of them stir, that I bid stay, if I bid go, they fly: If I on foe pursue revenge, Alarm a hundred cry. The bravest I their hearts, their hands, their purses hold at will, joined with the credit of the best, to bowlster me in ill. But see where as my trusty man, doth run, what news brings he? Good people, did none of you, my mistress Lamia see? Rosko, what news, that in such haste you come blowing? Mistress, you must shut up your shops, & leave your occupying. What so they be, foolish knave, tell me true? O ill, for thirty? besides you. For me good fellow, I pray thee why so? Be patiented Mistress, and you shall know, Go too, say on: Marry, right now at the Sessions I was, And thirty must to Trussum cord go. Among the which (I weep to show) alas: Why, what's the matter man? O Andrugio, For loving too kindly, must lose his head, And his sweet heart, must we are the shameful weeds: Ordained for Dames, that fall through fleshly deeds. Is this offence, in question come again? Tell, tell, no more,' 'tis time this tale were done: See, see, how soon, my triumph turns to pain. Mistress, you promised to be quiet, For God's sake, for your own sake, be so Alas poor Rosko, our dainty diet, Our bravery and all we must forego. I am sorry. Yea, but out alas, sorrow will not serve: thou must needs provide thee else where, My gains are past, yea, I myself might starve: Save that, I did provide for a dear year. They reward fair (their harvest in the stack,) When winter comes, that bid their servants pack. Alas Mistress, if you turn me off now, Better than a Rogue, none will me allow. Thou shalt have a Passport, Yea, but after what sort? Why, that thou wart my man. O the judge, sylde shows the favour, To let one thief, bail another: Tush I know, ere long you so will slip away, As you, for yourself, must seek some testimony Of your good life. Never fear: honestly Lamia now means to live, even till she die.
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)
TRiumphe fayre Lamia now, thy wanton flag aduaunce, Set foorth thy ſelfe to braueſt ſhow, boſt thou of happy chaunce: Gyrle, accompt thou thy ſelfe the chéefe, of Lady Pleaſures traine, Thy face is faire, thy forme cōtent, thy Fortunes both doth ſtraine. Euen as thou wouldſt, thy houſe doth ſtande, thy furniture is gay, Thy wéedes are braue, thy face is fine, & who for this doth paye? Thou thy ſelfe no, the ruſhing Youthes, ye bathe in wanton bliſſe, Yea, olde and dooting fooles ſometimes, doo helpe to paye for this. Frée coſt betwéene them both I haue, all this for my behoue, I am the ſterne, yt gides their thoughts, looke what I like, they loue Few of them ſturre, that I byd ſtaie, if I bid go, they flye: If I on foe purſue reuenge, Alarme a hundred crye. The braueſt I their harts, their handes, their purſes holde at wyl, Ioynde with the credite of the beſt, to bowlſter mee in yll. But ſee wher as my truſtie man, doth run, what newes brings he? Good people, did none of you, my miſtreſſe Lamia ſee? Rosko, what newes, that in ſuch haſte you come blowing? Miſtreſſe, you muſt ſhut vp your ſhops, & leaue your occupying. What ſo they be, fooliſh knaue, tell mee true? Oh yll, for thirtie? beſydes you. For mee good fellowe, I praye thee why ſo? Be patient Miſtreſſe, and you ſhall knowe, Go too, ſaye on: Marrie, right nowe at the Seſſions I was, And thirtie muſt to Truſſum corde go. Among the which (I weepe to ſhowe) alas: Why, what's the matter man? O Andrugio, For louing too kindlie, muſt looſe his heade, And his ſweete hart, muſt we are the ſhamefull weedes: Ordainde for Dames, that fall through fleſhly deedes. Is this offence, in queſtion come againe? Tell, tell, no more, 'tys tyme this tale were done: See, ſée, howe ſoone, my triumphe turnes to paine. Miſtreſſe, you promiſed to be quiet, For Gods ſake, for your owne ſake, be ſo Alas poore Rosko, our dayntie dyet, Our brauerie and all we muſt forgo. I am ſorie. Yea, but out alas, ſorrowe wyll not ſerue: thou muſt néedes prouide thée elſe where, My gaynes are paſt, yea, I my ſelfe might ſtarue: Saue that, I did prouide for a deare yeare. They rewarde fayre (their harueſt in the ſtacke,) When winter coms, that byd their ſeruaunts packe. Alas Miſtreſſe, if you turne mée off now, Better then a Roge, none wyll me allowe. Thou ſhalt haue a Paſporte, Yea, but after what ſorte? Why, that thou wart my man. O the Iudge, ſylde ſhowes the fauour, To let one théefe, bayle another: Tuſh I know, ere long you ſo wyll ſlyp awaye, As you, for your ſelfe, muſt ſéeke ſome teſtimony Of your good lyfe. Neuer feare: honeſtly Lamia nowe meanes to lyue, euen tyll ſhe dye.