Fedele and Fortunia (Two Italian Gentlemen) · chunk 18 of 30
Pasqualigo, Luigi / Munday, Anthony · published 1585 · first performed or written 1584 [1579-1584] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (first) (Oxford's Boys) · before the Court unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
No good mistress, it is no shame at all, But the greatest honour that unto a man may fall. For an Alms is a gift, and a gift is a token of reverence I trow, And reverence is, when our superiors we know. Thus I being presented of all men with alms as you see, Reverenced of all men of force I must be. For reasoning so deeply, no Alms shall you have, Because I will not honour such a beggarly knave. Farewell and be hanged, there I was overreached with a crooked measure, Wit bought at this rate is an excellent treasure. Beginnings are hard, this proverb is old, Therefore at some other Body's door I mean to be bold. Tic, toc, fate limosina: popoli mei benedetti, Che iddio v'aiuterá, nelle vostre tribulationi. Tic, toc, chi la diua over la fara dire, Di bvona morte non potrà morire. What sturdy knave have we here in the street, To beg at this time of the night? Sirrah 'tis not meet. Pack hence Sirrah I advise you, lest I give you a souse, Or take thee by the heels and throw thee over the house. Good master beat not the poor, when they make their moan, 'tis not long since your courage was as cold as a stone. What saucy knave, methinks he doth prate, Dost thou know to whom thou speakest, or at whose gate? No good master, be good to me, I beseech you, for I have done, I were best to be quiet till he be gone. We have many good startops made here in the city, For publishing these vagary knaves that go up and down idly See how he is scaped, and shrinketh aside, My looks are to big for him too abide. 'tis a wonder to see how they crouch wheresoever I come, If I stand they stoop, if I speak they are dumb. Mistress Victarrogantie hath sent for me, Her chaplain against Fedele to be. If I kill him for her sake, and put him to shame, She hath promised me her love, to reward the same. Oh, Traditora. How am I bound to Mars, that when my stomach so swells that I am driven to lay out my heart in my hose, He sows up my gorget with the slaughter of my foes. I'll go put on my Horslittor, & the rest of mine Armour straight, And here about her house for him I will weight. Every night she saith, he comes sneaking here by, But if he come now, I will handle him trimly. Go goodman Goose, provide you, & arm you as well as you can, Lay about you, and play the proper man. In tempore veni, I came hither in the nick, My master shall speedily hear of this trick. Yet will I go forward with my business as I decreed, And try how well of my purpose I am like to speed. Tic toc, una limosina all poveretto, Date Signora per l'amour di Dio.
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)
¶No good mistresse, it is no shame at all, But the greatest honour that vnto a man may fall. For an Almes is a gift, and a gifte is a token of reuerence I trow, And reuerence is, when our superiours we know. Thus I being presented of all men with almes as you sée, Reuerenced of all men of force I must bée. ¶For reasoning so déepely, no Almes shall you haue, Because I will not honour such a beggerly knaue. ¶Farewell and be hangde, there I was ouer-reacht with a crookte measure, Witte bought at this rate is an excellent treasure. Beginnings are harde, this prouerbe is olde, Therefore at some other bodies doore I meane to be bolde. Tic, toc, fate limosina: popoli mei benedetti, Che iddio v'aiuterá, nelle vostre tribulationi. Tic, toc, chi la diua ouer la fara dire, Di buona morte non potrà morire. ¶What sturdy knaue haue we heer in the stréete, To begge at this time of the night? Sirra t'is not méete. Packe hence Sirra I aduise you, least I giue you a sowce, Or take thée by the héeles and throw thée ouer the howse. ¶Good maister beate not the poore, when they make their mone, T'is not long since your courrage was as colde as a stone. ¶What sawcy knaue, me thinkes he doeth prate, Doest thou know to whome thou speakest, or at whose gate? ¶No good maister, be good to me, I beséeche you, for I haue done, I were best to be quiet till he be gone. ¶We haue many good startoppes made heer in the cittie, For publishing these vargery knaues that goe vp and down idlely Sée how he is scapte, and shrinketh aside, My lookes are to bigge for him too abide. T'is a wonder to sée how they crouch where soeuer I come, If I stande they stoupe, if I speake they are dumbe. Mistresse Victarrogantie hath sent for me, Her Chaplen against Fedele to be. If I kill him for her sake, and put him to shame, She hath promiste me her loue, to rewarde the same. ¶Oh, Traditora. ¶How am I bound to Mars, yt when my stomack so swelles yt I am driuen to lay out my heart in my hose, He sowes vp my gorget with the slaughter of my foes. I'le goe put on my Horslittor, & the rest of mine Armor straight, And here about her house for him I will waight. Euery night she saith, he comes sneaking heer by, But if he come now, I will handle him trimly. ¶Goe goodman Goose, prouide you, & arme you as well as you can, Lay about you, and play the proper man. In tempore veni, I came hether in the nicke, My master shall spéedely heare of this tricke. Yet will I goe foreward with my businesse as I decreede, And trye how well of my purpose I am like to spéede. Tic toc, vna limosina al poueretto, Date Signora per l'amour di Dio.