Porter, Henry · published 1599 · first performed or written 1598(?) (Annals) comedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
No Philip no. What, wilt thou were a point but with one tag? Well Francis well, I see you are a wag. 'swounds where he these timber turners, these troll the bowls, these green men, these. What, what sir? These bowlers sir. Well sir, what say you to Bowlers? Why I say they cannot be saved. Your reason sir? Because they throw away their souls at every mark Their souls, how mean ye? Sirrah he means the soul of our bowl. Lord how his wit holds bias like a bowl. Well, which is the Bias? This next to you. Nay turn it this way, than the bowl goes true. Rub, rub. Why rub? Why you overcast the mark and miss the way. Nay boy juse to take the fairest of my play. Dick Coomes methinks thou art very pleasant. When got'st thou this merry humour? In your father's Seller, the merriest place in th'house. Then you have been carousing hard, Yes faith, 'tis our custom when your father's men & we meet. Thou art very welcome thither Dick. By God I thank ye sir, I thank ye sir, by God I have a quart of Wine for ye sir in any place of the world, there shall not a servingman in Berkshire fight better for ye than I will do, if you have any quarrel in hand, you shall have the maidenhead of my new sword: I paid a quarter's wages for't by Iesus. Oh this meat failer Dick, How well t'as made apparel of his wit, And brought it into fashion of an honour, prithee Dick Coomes but tell me how thou dost? Faith sir like a poor man at service. Or serving man. Indeed so called by the vulgar. Why where the devil hadst thou that word? O sir, you have the most eloquenst ale in all the world, our blunt soil affords none such, Philip leave talking with this drunken fool, Say sirrah where's my father? Marry I thank ye for my very good cheer, O Lord it is not so much worth, you see I am bold with ye, Indeed you are not so bold as welcome, I pray ye come oftener, Truly I shall trouble ye, all these ceremonies are dispatched between them, and they are gone. Are they so? I before God are they. And wherefore came not you to call me then? Because I was loath to change my game, What game? You were at one sort of bowls, as I was at another, Sirrah, he means the buttery bowls of beer. By God sirrah we tickled it. Why what a swearing keeps this drunken ass, Canst thou not say but swear at every word? Peace do not mar his humour prithee Frank. Let him alone, he's a springal, he knows not what belongs to an oath. Sirrah, be quiet, or I do protest. Come, come, what do you protest? By heaven to crack your Crown,
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)
No Phillip no. What, wilt thou were a point but with one tag? Well Francis well, I see you are a wag. Swounds where he these timber turners, these trowle the bowles, these greene men, these. What, what sir? These bowlers sir. Well sir, what say you to Bowlers? Why I say they cannot be saued. Your reason sir? Because they throw away their soules at euery marke Their soules, how meane ye? Sirra he meanes the soule of our bowle. Lord how his wit holdes bias like a bowle. Well, which is the Bas? This next to you. Nay turne it this way, then the bowle goes true. Rub, rub. Why rub? Why you ouercast the marke and misse the way. Nay boy Ivse to take the fairest of my play. Dicke Coomes me thinkes thou art very pleasant. When gotst thou this mirrie humour? In your fathers Seller, the merriest place in th'house. Then you haue beene carowsing hard, Yes faith, t'is our custome when your fathers men & we meere. Thou art very welcome thether Dicke. By God I thanke ye sir, I thank ye sir, by God I haue a quart of Wine for ye sir in any place of the world, there shal not a seruingman in Barkeshire fight better for ye then I will do, if you haue any quarrell in hand, you shall haue the maidenhead of my new sword: I paide a quarters wages sor't by Iesus. Oh this meate failer Dicke, How well t'as made apparell of his wit, And brought it into fashion of an honor, Prethe Dicke Coomes but tell me how thou doost? Faith sir like a poore man at seruice. Or seruing man. Indeede so called by the vulgar. Why where the deuill hadst thou that word? O sir, you haue the most eloquenst ale in all he world, our blunt soyle affoordes none such, Phillip leaue talking with this drunken foole, Say sirra where's my father? Marrie I thanke ye or my ve good cheere, O Lord it is not so much worth, you see I am bolde with ye, Indeed you are not so bolde as welcome, I pray yee come oftner, Truly I shall trouble ye, all these ceremonies are dispatcht between them, and they are gone. Are they so? I before God are they. And wherefore came not you to call me then? Because I was loth to change my game, What game? You were at one sort of bowles, as I was at another, Sirra, he meanes the buttery bowles of beere. By God sirra we tickled it. Why what a swearing keepes this drunken asse, Canst thou not say but sweare at euery word? Peace do not marre his humour prethie Franke. Let him alone, hee's a springall, he knowes not what belongs to an oath. Sirra, be quiet, or I doe protest. Come, come, what doe you protest? By heauen to crack your Crowne,