Master Arden of Faversham in Kent · chunk 26 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 T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Why then let us go, & tell her all the matter. And plat the news to cut him of tomorrow. See how the hours the guardant of heavens gate Have by their toil removed the darksome clouds. That Soll may well deserve the trampled pace, Wherein he wont to guide his golden car, The season fits, come Franklin, let's away. I thought you did pretend some special hunt, That made you thus cut short the time of rest. It was no chase that made me rise so early, But as I told thee yesternight to go to the Isle of Sheppy: There to dine with my Lord Cheiny. For so his honour late commanded me. I such kind husbands seldom want excuses, Home is a wild Cat, to a wandering wit, The time hath been, would God it were not past, That honours title nor a lord's command, Could once have drawn you from these arms of mine, But my deserts, or your deserves decay, Or both, yet if true love may seem desert, I merit still to have thy company. Why I pray you sir, let her go along with us, I am sure his honour will welcome her, And us the more, for bringing her along. Content, sirrah saddle your mistress nag. No, begged favour merits little thanks, If I should go, our house would run away, Or else be stolen, therefore I'll stay behind. Nay see how mistaking you are, I pray thee go. No no, not now. Then let me leave thee satisfied in this, That time nor place, nor persons alter me, But that I hold thee dearer than my life. That will be seen by your quick return. And that shall be ere night and if I live. Farewell sweet Alice, we mind to sup with thee. Come Michael are our horses ready? I your horse are ready, but I am not ready, For I have lost my purse, With six and thirty shillings in it, With taking up of my M. Nag. Why I pray you let us go before, Whilst he stays behind to seek his purse. Go too sirrah, see you follow us to the isle of Sheppey, To my Lord Cheyny's where we mean to dine. So fair weather after you, For before you lies, black Will and shakebag, In the broom close, to close for you, They'll be your ferrymen to long home, But who is this the Painter, my corrival, That would needs win M. Susan. How now Michael how doth my Mistress, And all at home? Who susan Mosby? she is your Mistress too I How doth she, and all the rest? all's well but susan she is sick, Sick, of what disease? Of a great fear. A fear, of what? A great fever. A fever God forbid. Yes faith, and of a lordaine too, As big as yourself.
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)
VVhy then let vs go, & tell her all the matter. And plat the newes to cut him of to morrow. Sée how the howrs the gardeant of heauens gate Haue by their toyle remoued the darksome cloudes. That Soll may wel deserue the trampled pace, VVherein he wount to guide his golden car, The season fits, come Francklin, let's a way. I thought you did pretend some speciall hunt, That made you thus cut shorte the time of rest. It was no chase that made me rise so early, But as I tould thée yesternight to go to the Ile of Sheppy: There to dine with my Lord Cheiny. For so his honor late commanded me. I such kinde husbands seldome want excuses, Home is a wilde Cat, to a wandring wit, The time hath bene, would God it were not past, That honors tytle nor a Lords command, Could once haue drawne you from these armes of mine, But my deserts, or your deserues decay, Or both, yet if trew loue may séeme desert, I merite stil to haue thy company. VVhy I pray you sir, let her go along with vs, I am sure his honor wil welcome her, And vs the more, for bringing her along. Content, sirra saddle your mistres nagge. No, begde fauor merits little thankes, If I should go, our house would runne away, Or els be stolne, therefore Ile stay behind. Nay see how mistaking you are, I pray thee goe. No no, not now. Then let me leaue thée satisfied in this, That time nor place, nor persons alter me, But that I hould thée de rer then my life. That will be séene by your quick returne. And that shall be ere night and if I liue. Farewell swéete Ales, we mind to sup with thee. Come Michaell are our horses ready? I your horse are ready, but I am not ready, For I haue lost my purse, With six and thirtie shillinges in it, With taking vp of my M. Nagge. Why I pray you let vs go before, Whilest he stayes behind to séeke his purse. Go too sirra, sée you follow vs to the ile of sheppye, To my Lord Cheynyes where we meane to dine. So faire whether after you, For before you lyes, black Will and shakebag, In the broome close, to close for you, Theyle be your ferrymen to long home, But who is this the Painter, my corriual, That would nedes winne M. Susan. How now Michael how doth my Mistresse, And all at home? Who susan Mosbye? sheis your Mistres too I How doth she, and all the rest? Al's well but susan she is sicke, Sick, of what disease? Of a great feare. A feare, of what? A great feuer. A feuer God forbidde. Yes faith, and of a lordaine too, As bigge as your selfe.