George a Green, the Pinner of Wakefield · chunk 9 of 16
Greene, Robert · published 1599 · first performed or written 1590 [1587-1591] (Annals) romance · Sussex's Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
A pardon my Lord for this pinner, For trust me he speaketh like a man of worth. Well, George, wilt thou leave Wakefield and Wend with me, I'll freely put up all and pardon thee. I my Lord, considering me one thing, You will leave these arms and follow your good king. Why George, I rise not against king Edward, But for the poor that is oppressed by wrong, From whence came you? where do you dwell? I am, forsooth, a sempster's maid hard-by, That hath brought work home to your daughter. Nay, are you not some crafty quean, That comes from George a Green, that rascal, With some letters to my daughter? I will have you searched. Alas, sir, it is Hebrew unto me, To tell me of George a Green, or any other: Search me good sir, And if you find a letter about me, Let me have the punishment that is due. Why are you muffled? I like you the worse For that. I am not, sir, ashamed to show my face, Yet loath I am my cheeks should take the air, Not that I am chary of my beauty's hue, But that I am troubled with the toothache sore. A pretty wench of smiling countenance, Old men can like, although they cannot love, ay, and love, though not so brief as young men can. Well, go in, my wench, and speak with my daughter. I wonder much at the Earl of Kendal, Being a mighty man, as still he is, Yet for to be a traitor to his king, Is more than God or man will well allow: But what a fool am I to talk of him? My mind is more here of the pretty lass: Had she brought some forty pounds to town. I could be content to make her my wife: Yet I have heard it in a proverb said, He that is old, and marries with a lass, Lies but at home, and proves himself an ass. How now, my wench, how be't? what not a word? Alas, poor soul, the toothache plagues her sore. Well, my wench, here is an Angel for to buy thee And I pray thee use mine house, The oftener the more welcome: farewell. O blessed love, and blessed fortune both. But Bettris, stand not here to talk of love, But high thee straight unto thy George a Green: Never went Roebuck swifter on the downs, Than I will trip it till I see my George. Come away Ienkin. Come, here is his house. Where be you, ho? Who knocks there? Here are two or three poor men, father, Would speak with you. Pray give your man leave to lead me for't Go, Ienkin, fetch him forth. Come, old man. Father, here is three poor men come to question Thee a word in secret that concerns their lives. Say on my sons.
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)
A pardon my Lord for this pinner, For trust me he speaketh like a man of worth. Well, George, wilt thou leaue Wakefielde and Wend with me, Ile freely put vp all and pardon thee. I my Lord, considering me one thing, You will leaue these armes and follow your good king. Why George, I rise not against king Edward, But for the poore that is opprest by wrong, From whence came you? where doe you dwell? I am, forsooth, a semsters maide hard-by, That hath brought worke home to your daughter. Nay, are you not some craftie queane, That comes from George a Greene, that rascall, With some letters to my daughter? I will haue you searcht. Alas, sir, it is Hebrue vnto me, To tell me of George a Greene, or any other: Search me good sir, And if you finde a letter about me, Let me haue the punishment that is due. Why are you mufled? I like you the worse For that. I am not, sir, asham'd to shew my face, Yet loth I am my cheekes should take the aire, Not that I am charie of my beauties hue, But that I am troubled with the tooth-ach sore. A pretie wench of smiling countenance, Olde men can like, although they cannot loue, I, and loue, though not so briefe as yong men can. Well, goe in, my wench, and speake with my daughter. I wonder much at the Earle of Kendall, Being a mightie man, as still he is, Yet for to be a traitor to his king, Is more then God or man will well allow: But what a foole am I to talke of him? My minde is more heere of the pretie lasse: Had she brought some fortie pounds to towne. I could be content to make her my wife: Yet I haue heard it in a prouerbe said, He that is olde, and marries with a lasse, Lies but at home, and prooues himselfe an asse. How now, my wench, how ist? what not a word? Alas, poore soule, the tooth-ach plagues her sore. Well, my wench, here is an Angel for to buy thee And I pray thee vse mine house, The oftner the more welcome: farewell. O blessed loue, and blessed fortune both. But Bettris, stand not here to talke of loue, But hye thee straight vnto thy George a Greene: Neuer went Roe-bucke swifter on the downes, Then I will trip it till I see my George. Come away Ienkin. Come, here is his house. Where be you, ho? Who knocks there? Heere are two or three poore men, father, Would speake with you. Pray giue your man leaue to leade me fort Goe, Ienkin, fetch him forth. Come, olde man. Father, heere is three poore men come to question Thee a word in secrete that concernes their liues. Say on my sonnes.