Whetstone, George · published 1578 · first performed or written 1578 [1576-1579] (Annals) comedy · Unacted unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
I marvel much what worketh so my Lord Promos unrest, He fares as if a thousand Devils, were gnawing in his breast: There is sure some worm of grief, that doth his conscience nip, For since Andrugio lost his head, he hath hung down the lip. And truth to say, his fault is such as well may grieve his mind, The Devil himself could not have used, a practice more unkind. This is once. I love a woman, for my life, as well as be, But (fair dames) with her that loves me. I deal well with, trust me. Well, leave I now my Lord Promos, his own deeds to answer, Lamia I know looks, and double looks, when I come to supper: I thought as much: see, to seek me, hear comes her Apple squire. O that I could found Master Phallax. the meat burns at the fire: And by your leave. Andrugio's death, doth make my mistress sweat. How now Rosko? Is't you sir? my Mistress doth entreat, That with all speed, you worship will come away to supper: The meat and all is ready to set upon the board sir. Gramercy for thy pains, I was even. coming to her. You are the welcom'st man alive to her I know, And trust me at your commandment ren: ayneth poor Rosko. It is honestly said, but now tell me, What quality hast, that I may use thee? I am a Barbour, and when you please sir, Call (and spare not) for a cast of rose water. But hear me, canst thou heal a green wound well? Yea, green and old. Then thy best were to dwell, In some usual place or street, where, through frays, Thou mayst be set a work with wounds always. I thank my Mistress I have my hands full, To trim gentlemen of her acquaintance: And I trust Sir, if that your worship chance. To have need of my help, I shall earn your money. Afore an other. That thou shalt truly: But sirrah, where dwells Lamia? Even hear sir, enter I pray. That I will sure, if that my way be clear. Yes sir, her doors be open all the year. Polina cursed, what dame a live hath cause of grief like thee. Who (won by love) hast yield the spoil of thy virginity? And he for to repair thy fame, to marry thee, that vowed, Is done to death for first offence, the second mends not loud. Great shame redounds to thee, O Love, in leaving us in thrall: Andrugio and Polina both, in honouring thee did fall. Thou so didst witch our wits, as we from reason strayed quite, Provockt by thee, we did refuse, no vantage of delight: Delight, what did I say? nay death, by rash and fowl abuse, Alas I shame to tell thus much, though love do work excuse,
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)
I maruell much what worketh ſo my Lord Promos vnreſt, He fares as if a thouſand Deuils, were gnawing in his breſt: There is ſure ſome worme of griefe, that doth his conſcience nip, For ſince Andrugio loſt his head, he hath hung downe the lippe. And truth to ſay, his fault is ſuch as well may greue his mynd, The Deuill himſelfe could not haue vſde, a practiſe more vnkind. This is once. I loue a woman, for my life, as well as be, But (fayre dames) with her that loues mée. I deale well with, truſt mée. Well, leaue I now my Lord Promos, his owne deedes to aunſwere, Lamia I know lookes, and double lookes, when I come to ſupper: I thought as much: ſée, to ſéeke mée, heare coms her Aple ſquier. O that I could find Maſter Phallax. the meat burnes at ye fire: And by your leaue. Andrugios death, doth make my miſtris ſweate. How now Rosko? Iſt you ſyr? my Miſtris doth intreate, That with all ſpeede, you worſhip will come away to ſupper: The meate and all is ready to ſet vpon the borde ſyr. Gramercy for thy paynes, I was euen. comming to her. You are the welcomſt man alyue to her I know, And truſt mee at your commaundement ren: ayneth poore Rosko. It is honeſtly ſayd, but now tell mée, What quality haſt, that I may vſe thee? I am a Barbour, and when you pleaſe ſyr, Call (and ſpare not) for a caſt of roſe water. But heare me, canſt thou heale a gréene wound well? Yea, gréene and ould. Then thy beſt were to dwel, In ſome vſuall place or ſtréete, where, through frayes, Thou mayſt be ſet a worke with wounds alwayes. I thanke my Miſtris I haue my hands full, To trym gentelmen of her acquayntaunce: And I truſt Syr, if that your worſhip chaunce. To haue néede of my helpe, I ſhall earne your mony. Afore an other. That thou ſhalt truly: But ſyrra, where dwels Lamia? Euen heare ſyr, enter I pray. That I wyl ſure, if that my way be cleare. Yes ſir, her doores be open all the yeare. Polina curſt, what dame a lyue hath cauſe of griefe lyke thée. Who (wonne by loue) haſt yeeld the ſpoyle of thy virginity? And he for to repayre thy fame, to marry thée, that vowde, Is done to death for firſt offence, the ſecond mends not lowde. Great ſhame redounds to thée, O Loue, in leauing vs in thrall: Andrugio and Polina both, in honoryng thée did fall. Thou ſo dydſt witch our wits, as we from reaſon ſtrayed quight, Prouockt by thee, we dyd refuſe, no vauntage of delight: Delight, what did I ſay? nay death, by raſh and fowle abuſe, Alas I ſhame to tell thus much, though loue doe worke excuſe,