Whetstone, George · published 1578 · first performed or written 1578 [1576-1579] (Annals) comedy · Unacted unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 477 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
We all are priest, to weight upon your Grace: Renowned King, lo here your faithful subjects priest to show The loyal duty, which (in right) they to your highness owe. Your presence, cheers all sorts of us: yet ten times more we joy, You think us stoarde, our warning short, for to receive a Roye. Our will, is such, as shall supply, I trust in us all want, And where good will the welcome gives, provision syld is scant. Lo, this is all: yea, for us all, that I in words bestow, Your Majesty, our further zeal, in ready deeds shall know. And first, dread King, I tender you, the sword of justice hear, Which as your Lieutenant I trust, uprightly I did hear. Promos, the good report, of your good government I hear, Or at the lest, the good conceit, that towards you I bear. To encourage you the more, in justice to persever, Is the chief cause. I did address, my Progress heather. I thank your Highness. Renowned King, our ready wills to show, In your behalf, our goods (nay lives) to spend: In all our names, I freely here bestow On your Highness, this Purse: unto this end, To po●● 〈◊〉 your most Royal Majesty, In all our wealth, thereto bound by duty. Your great good wills, and gifts with thanks I take: But keep you still, your goods, to do you good. It is enough, and all that I do crave, If needs compels for your and our safety, That you in part your proffers large perform: And for this time as outward shows make proof, It is enough (and all that I desire) That your hearts and tongues (alike) bid me welcome. Lord preserve your Majesty. Forewards my Lords. The match goes hard, which raiseth no man's gain, The virtue rare, that none to vice may wrest: And sure, the Law, that made me late complain: Allureth me, many a wanton jest: Dames of my Trade, shut up their shops for fear, Their stuff proved Contra formam Statuti, Then I, which lycenst am, to cell fine ware: Am like to be well customed pardie: And now Time serves, lest custom after fail, At highest rate, my Toys I value must: Let me alone, to set my Toys to sale: Young Ruflers I, in faith, will serve of trust. Who ways me not, him will I fayne to love, Who loves me once, is limed to my hest: My colours some, and some shall wear my glove, And he my heart, whose payment likes me best. And here at hand are customers I trow, These are the friends, of Phallax, my sweet friend: Now will I go, and set my wares to show, But let them laugh, that winneth in the end. Come on good friend: where dwells Lady Lamia? Even by Syr.
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)
We all are preſt, to wayght vpon your Grace: Renowned King, lo here your faithful ſubiects preaſt to ſhow The loyall duetie, which (in ryght) they to your highneſſe owe. Your preſence, cheares all ſorts of vs: yet ten times more we ioye, You thinke vs ſtoarde, our warning ſhort, for to receyue a Roye. Our wyll, is ſuch, as ſhall ſupplie, I truſt in vs all want, And where good wyll the welcome geues, prouiſion ſyld is ſcant. Loe, this is all: yea, for vs all, that I in wordes beſtowe, Your Maieſtie, our further zeale, in ready deedes ſhall knowe. And firſt, dreade King, I render you, the ſwoorde of Iuſtice heare, Which as your Liuetenant I truſt, vprightlie I dyd heare. Promos, the good report, of your good gouernment I heare, Or at the leaſt, the good conceyte, that towards you I beare. To incourage you the more, in Iuſtice to perſeauer, Is the chéefe cauſe. I dyd addreſſe, my Progreſſe heather. I thanke your Highneſſe. Renowned King, our ready wylles to ſhowe, In your behalfe, our goodes (nay lyues) to ſpende: In all our names, I fréelie here beſtowe On your Highnes, this Purſe: vnto this ende, To po your moſt Royall Maieſtie, In all our wealth, therto bounde by duetie. Your great good wyls, and gyfts with thanks I take: But kéepe you ſtyll, your goodes, to do you good. It is inough, and all that I do craue, If néedes compels for your and our ſafety, That you in part your proffers large performe: And for this time as outward ſhowes make proofe, It is inough (and all that I deſire) That your harts and tongues (alyke) byd me welcome. Lord preſerue your Maieſty. Forewards my Lordes. The match goes harde, which rayſeth no mans gaine, The vertue rare, that none to vice maye wreaſt: And ſure, the Lawe, that made me late complaine: Allureth me, many a wanton geaſt: Dames of my Trade, ſhutte vp their ſhoppes for feare, Their ſtuffe prou'd Contra formam Statuti, Then I, which lycenſt am, to ſell fine ware: Am lyke to be well cuſtomed perdy: And nowe Tyme ſerues, leaſt cuſtome after fayle, At hyeſt rate, my Toyes I vallue muſt: Let me alone, to ſet my Toyes to ſale: Yong Ruflers I, in faith, wyll ſerue of truſt. Who wayes me not, him wyll I fayne to loue, Who loues me once, is lymed to my heaſt: My cullers ſome, and ſome ſhall weare my gloue, And he my harte, whoſe payment lykes me beſt. And here at hande are cuſtomers I trowe, Theſe are the friendes, of Phallax, my ſwéete friende: Nowe wyll I go, and ſet my wares to ſhowe, But let them laugh, that wynneth in the ende. Come on good friende: where dwels Lady Lamia? Euen by Syr.