Whetstone, George · published 1578 · first performed or written 1578 [1576-1579] (Annals) comedy · Unacted unassigned nearest T5 Christian faith, sin and salvation · 526 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T5: god, christ, david, sin, holy, israel, lord, mercy, sins, faith.
Is this true? Why? how say you? do I lie? Well, so or Noah, for thy news have this cony. God's boors, give it me, to be sweet, 'tis to cheap, But Lady yet, till sunday it will keep: Well, now god bwye, Mass lying Promoter, Wees see at the soort. I peradventure. Since can not find my Mare, on foot chull go: Ych think, each day a nowre, to be at Iulio. Strange are the news, the Clown hath shown to me: Not strange a whit, if they well scanned be. For God we see, still throws the Tyrant down: Even in the height, and pride of his renown, Lord Promos rule, nay, tyranny in deed, For judges is a mirror, worthy heed. The wretched man, with show of justice zeal, Thoroughly did, with poor offenders deal. The wicked man, both, knew, and judged, abuse: And none so much, as he her faults did use. He felons hanged, yet by extortion, stole: He wantoness plagued, himself a doting fool. He others checked, for suing for their right: And he himself, maintained wrongs by might. But see the rule of mischief, in his pride: He headlong falls, when lest, he thought to slide. Well, by his fall, I may perhaps arise: Andrugio yet, in climbing be thou wise. What? still unknown, shall I live in this wood? Not so. Go wray these news, no doubt, unto my good. Yet ere I go, I will myself disguise, As in the Town, in spite of Lynx's eyes. I will unknown, learn how the game doth go, But ere I go, sith eased is my woe: My thanks to God, I first in song will show. TO thee O Lord, with heart, and voice I sing, Whose mercy great, from moan to sweet delight▪ From grief to joy, my troubled soul dost bring, Yea, more thy wrath, hath foiled my foe in sight. Who sought my life (which thou O God didst save) Thy scourge hath brought, untimely to his grave. Whose grief will gall, a thousand judges more, And will them see, themselves, and sentence just: When black reproach, this thundering shame shall show, A judge condemned for murder, theft, and lust. This scourge, O God, the lewd in fear will bring, The just for joy, thy praises loud will sing. Come on fair Dame, since fair words, works no heed, Now fowl means shall: in you repentance breed. Master Gresco, where you may help, hurt not. And nothing but chastment, will help you to amend, Well, I will not hurt you, your lewdness to defend. My lewdness Sir: what is the difference, Betwixt wantoness, and hoorders of pence? Thou hast wind at will, but in thy eyes no water: Thou art full of Grace, how she blusheth at the matter. How sample I, your wife and daughter Sir? Are me, when whipping hath changed thy Nature. What whipping? why? am I a Horse, or a Mare? Not, but a beast, that meetly well will bare. In deed (as) now, perforce, I bear this flout: But use me well, else I faith, get I out, Look for quittance.
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)
Is this true? Why? how ſay you? doe I lye? Well, ſo or noe, for thy newes haue this connie. Gods boores, geue it me, to be ſwete, tis to cheape, But Lady yet, tyll ſunday it will keepe: Well, now god bwye, Mas lying Promoter, Wees ſee at the ſoort. I peraduenture. Since can not finde my Mare, on foote chull goe: Ych thinke, each daye a nowre, to be at Iulio. Straunge are the newes, the Clowne hath ſhowne to me: Not ſtraunge a whyt, if they well ſcanned be. For God we ſee, ſtyll throwes the Tyrant downe: Euen in the heyght, and pride of his renowne, Lorde Promos rule, nay, tyranny in deede, For Iudges is a mirror, worthy héede. The wretched man, with ſhowe of Iuſtice zeale, Throughly dyd, with poore offenders deale. The wicked man, both, knewe, and iudg'd, abuſe: And none ſo much, as he her faultes dyd vſe. He fellons hang'd, yet by extorcion, ſtoale: He wantons plag'd, himſelfe a doating foole. He others checkt, for ſuing for their right: And he himſelfe, mayntained wrongs by might. But ſée the rule of miſchiefe, in his pride: He headlong falles, when leaſt, he thought to ſlide. Well, by his fall, I maye perhaps aryſe: Andrugio yet, in clyming be thou wyſe. What? ſtyll vnknowne, ſhall I liue in this wood? Not ſo. Go wraye theſe newes, no doubt, vnto my good. Yet ere I go, I wyll my ſelfe diſguiſe, As in the Towne, in ſpyte of Linxes eyes. I wyll vnknowne, learne howe the game doth go, But ere I go, ſyth eaſed is my woe: My thankes to God, I firſt in ſong wyll ſhoe. TO thee O Lorde, with harte, and voyce I ſyng, VVhoſe mercie great, from mone to ſweete delight▪ From griefe to ioye, my troubled ſoule doeſt bring, Yea, more thy wrath, hath foylde my foe in ſyght. VVho ſought my lyfe (which thou O God didſt ſaue) Thy ſcorge hath brought, vntimelie to his graue. VVhoſe griefe wyll gawle, a thouſande Iudges more, And wyll them ſee, them ſelues, and ſentence iuſt: When blacke reproche, this thundring ſhame ſhall ſhoe, A Iudge condemde for murder, thefte, and luſte. This ſcorge, O God, the lewde in feare wyll bring, The iuſt for ioye, thy prayſes lowde wyll ſyng. Come on faire Dame, ſince faire words, works no héede, Now fowle meanes ſhall: in you repentaunce bréede. Maiſter Greſco, where you maye helpe, hurt not. And nothing but chaſtment, wyll helpe you to amende, Well, I wyll not hurt you, your lewdnes to defende. My lewdnes Syr: what is the difference, Betwixt wantons, and hoorders of pence? Thou haſt winde at wyll, but in thy eyes no water: Tho' arte full of Grace, howe ſhe bluſheth at the matter. Howe ſample I, your wyfe and daughter Syr? Are mee, when whypping hath chaung'd thy Nature. What whypping? why? am I a Horſe, or a Mare? No, but a beaſt, that méetelie well wyll bare. In déede (as) nowe, perforce, I beare this flowt: But vſe me well, elſe I fayth, gette I out, Looke for quittaunce.