Master Arden of Faversham in Kent · chunk 25 of 40
Anonymous / Kyd, Thomas / Shakespeare, William / Watson, Thomas · published 1592 · first performed or written 1591 [1588-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Pembroke's Men (?) unassigned nearest T26 Devils, hell and fiends · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T26: devil, hell, devils, sure, soul, fiend, sr, wife, lord, men.
Stand close Will I hear them coming. Stand to it Shakbag, and be resolute, Is it so near night as it seems, Or will this black faced evening have a shower? What M. Arden, you are well met, I have longed this fortnight's day to speak with you, You are a stranger man in the isle of Shepny, Your honours always bound to do you service, Come you from London & near a man with you? My man's coming after, But her's my honest friend that came along with me. My Lord protector's man I take you to be I my good Lord, and highly bound to you, You & your friend come home & sup with me. I beseech your honour pardon me. I have made a promise to a gentle man, My honest friend to meet him at my house, The occasion is great, or else would I wait on you. Will you come tomorrow & dine with me And bring your honest friend along with you: I have divers matters to talk with you about. Tomorrow we'll wait upon your honour, One of you stay my horse at the top of the hill What black Will, for whose purse wait you? Thou wilt be hanged in Kent, when all is done. Not hanged, God save your honour. I am your beadsman, bound to pray for you, I think thou near saidst prayer in all thy life, One of you give him a crown, And sirrah leave this kind of life. If thou be'st tainted for a penny matter, And come in question surely thou wilt truss, Come M. Arden let us be going, Your way and mine lies four mile together. The Devil break all your necks, at 4 miles end, Zounds I could kill myself for very anger. His Lordship chops me in, even when My dag was levelled at his heart. I would his crown were molten down his throat, Arden thou hast wondrous holy luck, Did ever man escape as thou hast done. Well I'll discharge my pistol at the sky, For by this bullet Arden might not die. What is he down, is he dispatched? I in health towards Feversham, to shame us all The Devil he is, why sirs how escaped he? When we were ready to shoot, Comes my Lord Cheiny to prevent his death. The Lord of heaven hath preserved him. Preserved, a fig, the L. Cheiny hath preserved him And bids him to a feast, to his house at shorlow: But by the way, once more I'll meet with him, And if all the Cheinies in the world say no, I'll have a bullet in his breast tomorrow, Therefore come Green and let us to Feversham. I and excuse ourselves to mistress Arden, O how she'll chafe when she hears of this. Why i'll warrant you she'll think we dare not do it
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)
Stand close Will I heare them cumming. Stand to it Shakbag, and be resolute, Is it so néere night as it séemes, Or wil this black faced euening haue a showre? What M. Arden, you are well met, I haue longd this fortnights day to speake with you, You are a stranger man in the ile of Shepny, Your honors alwayes bound to do you seruice, Come you from London & nere a man with you? My man's comming after, But her's my honest fréend that came along with me. My Lord protectors man I take you to bée I my good Lord, and highly bound to you, You & your frend come home & sup with me. I beséech your honor pardon me. I haue made a promise to a gentle man, My honest fréend to méete him at my house, The occasion is great, or els would I wait on you. Will you come tomorrow & dyne with me And bring your honest frend along with you: I haue dyuers matters to talke with you about. Tomorrow wele waite vpon your honor, One of you staye my horse at the top of the hil What black Will, for whose purse wait you? Thou wilt be hanged in Kent, when all is done. Not hanged, God saue your honor. I am your bedesman, bound to pray for you, I think thou nere saidest prayer in all thy lyfe, One of you giue him a crowne, And sirra leaue this kinde of lyfe. If thou beest tainted for a penny matter, And come in question surely thou wilt trusse, Come M. Arden let vs be going, Youre way and mine lyes foure myle togeather. The Deuill break all your necks, at 4 myles end, Zounds I could kill my selfe for very anger. His Lordship chops me in, euen when My dagge was leaueld at his hart. I would his crowne were molten down his throat, Arden thou hast wondrous holye luck, Did euer man escape as thou hast done. VVell Ile discharge my pistoll at the skye, For by this bullet Arden might not die. VVhat is he down, is he dispatcht? I in health towards Feuershame, to shame vs all The Devill he is, why sirs how escapt he? VVhen we were ready to shoote, Comes my Lord Cheiny to preuent his death. The Lord of heauen hath preserued him. Preserued, a figge, the L. Cheiny hath preserued him And bids him to a feast, to his house at shorlow: But by the way, once more Ile méete with him, And if all the Cheinies in the world say no, Ile haue a bullet in his breast to morrow, Therefore come Gréene and let vs to Feuershame. I and excuse our selues to mistres Arden, O how shele chafe when she heares of this. VVhy ile warrant you shel think we dare not doit