Heywood, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [1592-1599] (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Good Gentleman bestow your charity, One single halfpenny to help my need. Not one, were I the master of a mint, What? succour thee that didst betray thy friend? See where she sits, whom thou didst scorn indeed, And therefore rightly art thou scorned again: Thou thoughtst to been riched with her goods, But thou hast now lost both thy own and hers, And for my part, knew It would save thy life, Thou shouldst not get so much as a crumb of bread Pack counterfeit, pack a way dissembling drab. Oh misery, but shall I stay to look Her in her face, whom I so much have wronged? Yes mistress Blage, I freely pardon you, You have done me no wrong, come sit by me: 'twas so in wealth, why not in poverty? Oh willingly if you can brook her presence, Whom you have greater reason to despise. Why woman, Ric hard that hath banished me, And seeks my ruin (causeless though it be) Do I in heart pray for, and will do still, Come thou & share wit h me what God hath sent, A stranger gave it me, and part thereof I do as freely now bestow on you. I thank you mistress Shore, this courtesy Renews the grief of my inconstancy. Yonder she sits how like a withered tree, That is in winter leaveless and bereft Of lively sap, sits she poor abject soul, How much unlike the woman is she now, She was but yesterday: so short and brittle Is this world's happiness: but who is that. False mistress Blage? how canst thou brook her Iane? I thou wast always mild and pitiful, Oh hadst thou been as chaste, we had been blessed, But now no more of that: she shall not starve, So long as this, and such as this may serve, Here mistress Shore, feed on these homely Cates, And there is wine to drink them down withal. Good sir your name, that pities poor Ia. Shore That in my prayers I may remember you. No matter for my name, I am a friend, That loves you well, so farewell mistress Shore, When that is spent, I vow to bring you more. God's blessing be your guide where ere you go, Thus mistress Blage you see amidst our woe, For all the world can do, God sends relief, And will not yet we perish in our grief, Come let us step into some secret place. 'tis not amiss, if you be so content, For here the fields too open & frequent. Where undisturbed we may partake this grace. What is she gone so soon? alack poor Iane, How I compassionate thy woeful case? Whereas we lived together man and wife, Oft on an humble stool by the fire side, Sat she contented, whenas my high heat, Would chid her for it. But what would she say Husband we both must lower sit one day, When I dare swear thee never dreamt of this, But see good God what prophesying is.
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)
Good Gentleman bestow your charitie, One single halfepennie to helpe my neede. Not one, were I the master of a mint, What? succour thee that didst betray thy friend? See where she sits, whom thou didst scorne indeed, And therefore rightly art thou scornde againe: Thou thoughtst to beene riched with her goods, But thou hast now lost both thy owne and hers, And for my part, knew It would saue thy life, Thou shouldst not get so much as a crum of bread Packe counterfeit, packe a way dissembling drab. Oh miserie, but shall I stay to looke Her in her face, whom I so much haue wrongde? Yes mistris Blage, I fréely pardon you, You haue done me no wrong, come sit by mee: Twas so in wealth, wy not in pouertie? Oh willingly if yo u can brooke her presence, Whom you haue great er reason to despise. Why woman, Ric hard that hath banisht me, And séekes my ruine (cuselesse though it bee) Do I in heart pray for, and will do still, Come thou & share wit h me what God hath sent, A stranger gaue it mee, and part thereof I do as fréely now bestow on you. I thanke you mistris Shoare, this courtesie Renewes the griefe of my inconstancie. Yonder shee sits how like a withered tree, That is in winter leauelesse and bereft Of liuely sappe, sits she poore abic soule, How much vnlike the woman is sh now, She was but yesterday: so short and brittle Is this worlds happines: but who is that. False mistris Blage? how canst thou brook hir Iane? I thou wast alwaies mild and pittifull, Oh hadst thon béene as chast, we had béene blest, But now no more of that: she shall not starue, So long as this, and such as this may serue, Here mistris Shoare, féed on these homely Cates, And there is wine to drinke them downe withal. Good sir your name, that pities poore Ia. Shoare That in my praiers I may remember you. No matter for my name, I am a friend, That loues you well, so farewell mistiris Shoare, When that is spent, I vow to bring you more. Gods blessing be your guide where ere you go, Thus mistris Blage you sée idst our woe, For all the world can doe, God sends reliefe, And will not yet wée peris in our griefe, Come let vs step into some secret place. Tis not amisse, if you be so content, For here the fieldes too open & frequent. Where vndisturbde we may partake this grace. What is she gone so soone? alacke poore Iane, How I compassionate thy wofull case? Whereas we liude togther man and wife, Oft on an humble stoole by the fire side, Sate she contented, when as my high heat, Would chid her for it. But what would she saye Husband we both must lower sit one day, When I dare sweare thee neuer dreamd of this, But see good God what prophesying is.