Heywood, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [1592-1599] (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
What M. Shore, we are your debtor still, But by God's grace intend not so to die: And Gentlewoman, now before your face, I must condemn him of discourtesy, Yea, and of great wrong that he hath offered you, For you had been a Lady but for him. He was in fault, trust me he was to blame, To hinder virtue of her due by right. My gracious L. my poor & humble thoughts, near had an eye to such unworthiness, And though some hold it as a maxim, That women's minds by nature do aspire, Yet how both God and M. Shore I thank For my continuance in this humble state, And likewise how I love your Majesty: For gracious sufferance that it may be so: Heaven bear true record of my inward soul: Now it remains, on my Lord majors behalf, I do such duty as becometh me, To bid your Highness welcome to his house, Were welcomes virtue powerful in my word, The King of England should not doubt thereof. Nor do I mistress Shore, now my Lo. Maior Edward dare boldly swear that he is welcome, You spoke the word well, very well i'faith, But mistress Shore her tongue hath guilded it, Tell me cousin Howard and Tom Sellinger, Had ever Citizen so fair a wife? Of flesh and blood I never did behold, A woman every way so absolute. Nor I my Liege, were Sellinger a King, He could afford Shoares wife to be a Queen. Why how now Tom? Nay rather how now Ned? What change is this? proud, saucy roving eye, What whisper'st in my brain, that she is fair? I know it, I see it, fairer than my Queen? oulost thou maintain it? what & thou traitor heart, Wouldst thou shake hands in this conspiracy? Down rebel, back base treacherous conceit, I will not credit thee, my Bess is fair, And Shoares wife but a blouze, compared to her, Come let us sit, here will I take my place. And my Lord Maior, fill me a bowl of wine, That I may drink to your elected Majoress, And M. Shore tell me how like you this, My L. Maior makes your wife his L. Majoress? So well my Lord as better cannot be, All in the honour of your Majesty. Nay drink to us L. Maior, we'll have it so, Go to I say, you are our Taster now, Drink then, and we will pledge ye. All health & happiness to my sovereign. Fill full our cup, and Lady Majoress, This tall carouse we mean to drink to you, And you must pledge us, but yet no more, Than you shall please to answer us withal. Nay you must drink to somebody, yea Tom to thee? Well sirrah, see you do her right: For Edward would, oh would to God he might. Yet idle eye, wilt thou be gadding still? Keep home, keep home, for fear of further ill. How now? letters to us, from whom?
seed 43: T5 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
What M. Shoare, we are your debter still, But by Gods grace entend not so to die: And Gentlewoman, now before your face, I must condemne him of discourtesie, Yea, and of great wrong that he hath offred you, For you had béene a Ladie but for him. He was in fault, trust me he was to blame, To hinder vertue of her due by right. My gracious L. my poore & humble thoughts, Nere had an eye to such vnworthinesse, And though some hold it as a maxime, That womens minds by nature doo aspire, Yet how both God and M. Shoare I thanke For my continuance in this humble state, And likewise how I loue your Maiestie: For gracious sufferance that it may be so: Heauen beare true record of my inward soule: Now it remaines, on my Lord Maiors behalfe, I doe such dutie as becommeth me, To bid your Highnesse welcome to his house, Were welcomes vertue powerfull in my word, The King of England should not doubt thereof. Nor do I mistris Shoare, now my Lo. Maior Edward dare boldly sweare that he is welcome, You spake the word well, verie well ifaith, But mistris Shoare her tougue hath guilded it, Tell me Cosin Howard and Tom Sellinger, Had euer Cittizen so faire a wife? Of flesh and bloud I neuer did behold, A woman eueric way so absolute. Nor I my Liedge, were Sellinger a King, He could afford Shoares wife to be a Quéene. Why how now Tom? Nay rather how now Ned? What chaunge is this? proud, saucie roauing eye, What whisperst in my brain, that she is faire? I know it, I sée it, fayrer then my Quéene? oulost thou maintain it? what & thou traitor heart, Wouldst thou shake hands in this conspiracie? Downe rebell, backe base trecherous conceit, I will not credite thée, my Besse is faire, And Shoares wife but a blouze, comparde to her, Come let vs sit, here will I take my place. And my Lord Maior, fill me a bowle of wine, That I may drinke to your elected Maioresse, And M. Shoare tell me how like you this, My L. Maior makes your wife his L. Maioresse? So well my Lord as better cannot be, All in the honor of your Maiestie. Nay drinke to vs L. Maior, wéele haue it so, Go to I say, you are our Taster now, Drinke then, and we will pledge yee. Al health & happines to my soueraign. Fill our cup, and Ladie Maioresse, This ll carowse we meane to drinke to you, And you must pledge vs, but yet no more, Thn you shall please to answere vs withall. Nay you must drinke to some body, yea Tom to thee? Well sirra, see you doe her right: For Edward would, oh would to God he might. Yet idle eye, wilt thou be gadding still? Keepe home, kéepe home, for feare of further ill. How now? letters to vs, from whom?