Anonymous · published 1594 · first performed or written 1592 [Jun 10] (Annals) moral · Derby's (Strange's) Men T6 Money, debt and credit typicality 0.83 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
God save her sirs, and her good friends, is a poor Welshman, come as far as Carnarvan in Wales to receive a little money, and here a has paid her I cannot tell what. hear you master, what is it not brass money? No, honest fellow, 'tis a good Angel in gold. Who told him my name? hear you master, a has a great deal more in her bosom, but a will take her leave. Nay, stay and dine with me: I must fetch him over for all his gold. marry I thank her good Master, I will weight upon her I warrant you. Now sir, have you sealed and subscribed? I have sir. And you deliver this as your deed to my use? With all my heart Sir, and hope you will use me well. We will talk of that another time, here is your money. I thank you sir, I'll be gone. Hear you sir, was not this bravely done? Excellent: hold, here is forty pound, as I promised thee. I thank you sir: do you hear Sir, you have got a thousand pound by the bargain: but much good may it do you. God a mercy, and here's forty pound for thy pains, Such another match, and I'll give thee a hundred pound. I thank you sir, Good bye: now to my welshman: Sirrah, let me see thy piece of gold, I'll tell thee whether it be weight or no? Hast thou any more, I'll give thee white many for it. Yes, a has a great deal more in her bosom, But a will have no wit money: O a loves led money. Well, I'll keep them for thee till thou come to my house. Why Cutbert, wilt thou never leave thy old knaveries Why, we should 'gree together like bells, If thou wert but hanged first, Why we are as near kin together, As the Cats of Banbery be to the hells of Lincoln. Why man, we are all birds of a feather, And whatsoever says nay, we will hold together. Come you mad slave, thou dost not know me, Tush, I have done many better tricks than this. Why (you base slave) take you me for your fellow? Why, I am of good reputation in the city, And held in account with the best. And yet thou art Cutbert the coney-catcher, The bailiff's son of Hexham, whose father being dead, The devil carried to hell for his knavery: How sayest thou, art not thou his son? This grave black cloak makes you so proud, You have forgotten who was your father. Nay, I have not forgotten that my father was a bailiff, A man that would live to himself. And yet in faith, he gave me nothing at his death, But good counsel, how to live in the world. But sirrah, as thou knowest me, I pray thee bewray me not, And in any thing I can, command me.
nodes 629–675 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 12 of 33 in this edition
Length
494 words · 633 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T6 — Money, debt and creditcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.835 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T9 · seed 44: T10 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
God saue her sirs, and her good friendes, is a poore Welshman, come as far as Carnaiuan in Wales to receiue a litle money, and here a has paid her I cannot tell what. Here you master, wat is it not brasse money? No, honest fellow, tis a good Angel in gold. Wh told him my name? heare you maister, a has a great deale more in her bosome, but a will take her leaue. Nay, stay and dyne with me: I must fetch him ouer for all his golde. Mary I thank her good Maister, I will waight vpon her I warrant you. Now sir, haue you sealde and subscribed? I haue sir. And you deliuer this as your deed to my vse? With all my heart Syr, and hope you wil vse me well. We wil talk of that another time, here is your money. I thank you sir, Ile be gone. Heare you sir, was not this brauely done? Excellent: hold, here is fourty pound, as I promised thee. I thank you sir: do you heare Sir, you haue got a thousand pound by the bargaine: but much good may it doe you. God a marcy, and here's ourty pound for thy paines, Such another match, and Ile giue thee a hundred pound. I thank you sir, God bwy: nw to my welshman: Sirra, let me see thy peece of gold, Ile tell thee whether it be weight or no? Hast thou anie more, Ile giue thee white many for it. Yes, a has a great deale more in her bosome, But a will haue no wit money: O a loues led mony. Wel, Ile keep thē for thee til thou come to my house. Why Cutbert, wilt thou neuer leaue thy old knauery' Why, we should gree together lyke belles, If thou wert but hanged first, Why we are as neere kin together, As the Cats of Banbery be to the hels of Lincolne. Why man, we are all birds of a feather, And whasoeuer saies nay, we wil hold together. Cme you mad slaue, thou doest not know me, Tush, I haue done many better trickes than this. Why (you base slaue) take you me for your fellow? Why, I am of good reputation in the citie, And held in account with the best. And yet thou art Cutbert the Conicatcher, The Bailiefs sonne of Hexham, whose father being dead, The deuill carried to hell for his knauerie: How sayest thou, art not thou his sonne? This graue blacke cloake makes you so proud, You haue forgotten who was your father. Nay, I haue not forgotten that my father was a Bailiefe, A man that would liue to himselfe. And yet in faith, he gaue me nothing at his death, But good counsell, how to liue in the world. But sirra, as thou knowest me, I pray thee bewray me not, And in any thing I can, commaund me.