Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1596-1597] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 456 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
Indeed you come near me now Hal, for we that take Purses, go by the Moon and seven Stars, and not by Phoebus he, that wandering Knight so fair. And I prithee sweet Wag, when thou art King, as God save thy Grace, Majesty I should say, for Grace thou wilt have none. What, none? No, not so much as will serve to be Prologue to an Egg and Butter. Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly. Marry then, sweet Wag, when thou art King, let not us that are Squires of the Night's body, be called thieves of the Day's beauty. Let us be Diana's Foresters, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moon; and let men say, we be men of good Government, being governed as the Sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the Moon, under whose countenance we steal. Thou sayst well, and it holds well too: for the fortune of us that are the Moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the Sea, being governed as the Sea is, by the Moon: as for proof. Now a Purse of Gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday Morning; got with swearing, Lay by: and spent with crying, Bring in: now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the Ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the Gallows. Thou sayst true Lad: and is not my Hostess of the Tavern a most sweet Wench? As is the honey, my old Lad of the Castle: and is not a Buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? How now? how now mad Wag? What in thy quips and thy quiddities? What a plague have I to do with a Buff-jerkin? Why, what a pox have I to do with my Hostess of the Tavern? Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? No, I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. Yea and elsewhere, so far as my Coin would stretch, and where it would not, I have used my credit. Yea, and so used it, that were it here apparent, that thou art Heir apparent. But I prithee sweet Wag, shall there be Gallows standing in England when thou art King? and resolution thus fobbed as it is, with the rusty curb of old Father Antic the Law? Do not thou when thou art a King, hang a Thief. No, thou shalt. Shall I? O rare! I'll be a brave judge. Thou judgest false already. I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare Hangman.
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)
Indeed you come neere me now Hal, for we that take Purſes, go by the Moone and ſeuen Starres, and not by Phoebus hee, that wand'ring Knight ſo faire. And I prythee ſweet Wagge, when thou art King, as God ſaue thy Grace, Maieſty I ſhould ſay, for Grace thou wilte haue none. What, none? No, not ſo much as will ſerue to be Prologue to an Egge and Butter. Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly. Marry then, ſweet Wagge, when thou art King, let not vs that are Squires of the Nights bodie, bee call'd Theeues of the Dayes beautie. Let vs be Dianaes Forreſters, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moone; and let men ſay, we be men of good Gouernment, being gouerned as the Sea is, by our noble and chaſt miſtris the Moone, vnder whoſe countenance we ſteale. Thou ſay'ſt well, and it holds well too: for the fortune of vs that are the Moones men, doeth ebbe and flow like the Sea, beeing gouerned as the Sea is, by the Moone: as for proofe. Now a Purſe of Gold moſt reſolutely ſnatch'd on Monday night, and moſt diſſolutely ſpent on Tueſday Morning; got with ſwearing, Lay by: and ſpent with crying, Bring in: now, in as low an ebbe as the foot of the Ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the Gallowes. Thou ſay'ſt true Lad: and is not my Hoſteſſe of the Tauerne a moſt ſweet Wench? As is the hony, my old Lad of the Caſtle: and is not a Buffe Ierkin a moſt ſweet robe of durance? How now? how now mad Wagge? What in thy quips and thy quiddities? What a plague haue I to doe with a Buffe-Ierkin? Why, what a poxe haue I to doe with my Hoſteſſe of the Tauerne? Well, thou haſt call'd her to a reck'ning many a time and oft. Did I euer call for thee to pay thy part? No, Ile giue thee thy due, thou haſt paid al there. Yea and elſewhere, ſo farre as my Coine would ſtretch, and where it would not, I haue vs'd my credit. Yea, and ſo vs'd it, that were it heere apparant, that thou art Heire apparant. But I prythee ſweet Wag, ſhall there be Gallowes ſtanding in England when thou art King? and reſolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the ruſtie curbe of old Father Anticke the Law? Doe not thou when thou art a King, hang a Theefe. No, thou ſhalt. Shall I? O rare! Ile be a braue Iudge. Thou iudgeſt falſe already. I meane, thou ſhalt haue the hanging of the Theeues, and ſo become a rare Hangman.