Greene, Robert · published 1594 · first performed or written 1589 [1586-1590] (Annals) comedy · Queen Elizabeth's Men unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
Margret, a farmer's daughter for a farmer's son, I warrant you the meanest of us both, Shall have a mate to lead us from the Church: But Thomas what's the news? what in a dump. Give me your hand, we are near a peddlers shop, Out with your purse we must have fairings now. Faith Ione and shall, I'll bestow a fairing on you, and then we will to the tavern, and snap off a pint of wine or two. Whence are you sir, of Suffolk, for your 〈◊〉 are finer than the common sort of men? Faith lovely girl, I am of Beckles by, Your neighbour not above six miles from hence, A farmer's son that never was so quaint, But that he could do courtesy to such dames: But trust me Margaret I am sent in charge, From him that reveld in your father's house, And filled his Lodge with cheer and venison, Tired in green, he sent you this rich purse: His token, that he helped you run your cheese, And in the milkhouse chatted with yourself. To me, you forget yourself. Women are often weak in memory. Oh pardon sir, I call to mind the man, TTwere little manners to refuse his gift, And yet I hope he sends it not for love: For we have little leisure to debate of that. What Margaret blush not, maids must have their loves. Nay by the mass she looks pale as if she were angry. Sirrah are you of Beckls? I pray how doth goodman Cob, my father bought a horse of him, I'll tell you Margot, a were good to be a gentleman's jade, for of all things the foul hilding could not abide a doongcart. How different is this farmer from the rest, That erst as yet hath pleased my wandering sight, His words are witty, quickened with a smile, His courtesy gentle, smelling of the court, Facile and debonair in all his deeds, Proportioned as was Paris, when in grey, He courted Aenon in the vale by Troy. Great lords have come and pleaded for my love, Who but the keepers last of Fresingfield, And yet me thinks this Farmer's jolly son, Passeth the proudest that hath pleased mine eye. But Peg disclose not that thou art in love, And show as yet no sign of love to him, Although thou well wouldst wish him for thy love Keep that to thee till time doth serve thy turn, To show the grief wherein thy heart doth burn. Come Ione and Thomas, shall we to the fair, You Beckls man will not forsake us now, Not whilst I may have such acquaint girls as you, Well if you chance to come by Fresingfield, Make but a step into the keeper's lodge, And such poor fare as Woodmen can afford, Butter and cheese, cream, and fat venison, You shall have store, and welcome therewithal. Gramarcies' Peggy, look for me care long.
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)
Margret a farmers daughter for a farmers ſonn, I warrant you the meaneſt of vs both, Shall haue a mate to leade vs from the Church: But Thomas whats the newes? what in a dumpe. Giue me your hand, we are neere a pedlers ſhop, Out with your purſe we muſt haue fairings now. Faith Ione and ſhall, Ile beſtow a fairing on you, and then we will to the Taurn, and ſnap off a pint of wine or two. Whence are you ſir, of Suffolke, for your are finer than the common ſort of men? Faith louely girle, I am of Beckles by, Your neighbour not aboue ſix miles from hence, A farmers ſonne that neuer was ſo quain, But that he could do courteſie to ſuch dames: But truſt me Margret I am ſent in charge, From him that reueld in your fathers houſe, And fild his Lodge with cheere and veniſon, Tyred in greene, he ſent you this rich purſe: His token, that he helpt you run your cheeſe, And in the milkhouſe chatted with your ſelfe. To me, you forget your ſelfe. Women are often weake in memorie Oh pardon ſir, I call to mind the man, Twere little manners to refuſe his gift, And yet I hope he ſends it not for loue: For we haue little leiſure to debate of that. What Margret bluſh not, mayds muſt haue their loues. Nay by the maſſe ſhe lookes pale as if ſhe were angrie. Sirha are you of Beckls? I pray how dooth goodman Cob, my father bought a horſe of him, Ile tell you Marget, a were good to be a gentlemans iade, for of all things the foule hilding could not abide a doongcart. How different is this farmer from the reſt, That earſt as yet hath pleaſd my wandring ſight, His words are wittie, quickened with a ſmile, His courteſie gentle, ſmelling of the court, Facill and debonaire in all his deeds, Proportiond as was Paris, when in gray, He courted Aenon in the vale by Troy. Great lords haue come and pleaded for my loue, Who but the keepers laſe of Freſingfield, And yet me thinks this Farmers iolly ſonne, Paſſeth the prowdeſt that hath pleaſd mine eye. But Peg diſcloſe not that thou art in loue, And ſhew as yet no ſigne of loue to him, Although thou well wouldſt wiſh him for thy loue Keepe that to thee till time doth ſerue thy turne, To ſhew the greefe wherein thy heart doth burne. Come Ione and Thomas, ſhall we to the faire, You Beckls man will not forſake vs now, Not whilſt I may haue ſuch quaint girls as you, Well if you chaunce to come by Freſingfield, Make but a ſtep into the keepers lodge, And ſuch poore fare as Woodmen can affoord, Butter and cheeſe, creame, and fat veniſon, You ſhall haue ſtore, and welcome therewithall. Gramarcies Peggie, looke for me are long.