1 The Two Angry Women of Abingdon · chunk 35 of 51
Porter, Henry · published 1599 · first performed or written 1598(?) (Annals) comedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
So ho, I come, where are ye? where art thou? here. How now Frank, where hast thou been? Frank, what Frank? 'sblood is sir Raph mad, here's the bow. I have not been much private with that voice, methink Frank Goursey's talk and his doth tell me, I am mistaken, especially by his bow, Frank had no bow, well, I will leave this fellow, And hollow somewhat farther in the fields, Dost thou hear fellow, I perceive by thee, That we are both mistaken, I took thee, For one thou art not, likewise thou tookst me, For sir Raph Smith, but sure I am not he, And so farewell, I must go seek my friend, so ho: So ho, so ho, nay then sir Raph so whore, For a whore she was sure, if you had her here So late, now you are sir Raphe Smith, Well do ye counterfeit and change your voice, But yet I know ye, but what should be that Francis? Belike that Francis cozened him of his wench, And he conceals himself to find her out, 'tis so upon my life, well I will go And help him ring his peal of so ho, soho, A plague on Coomes, a plague upon the boy, A plague too, not on my mother for an hundredth bound, 'twas time to run, and yet I had not thought My mother could have followed me so close, Her legs with age I thought had foundered, She made me quite run through a quickset hedge, Or she had taken me: well I may say, I have run through the briars for a wench, And yet I have her not, the worse luck mine, methought I heard one hollow here about, I judge it Philip, O the slave will laugh whenas he hears how that my mother scared me, Well, here I'll stand until I hear him hollow, And then I'll answer him, he is not far. my man is hollowing for me up and down, And yet I cannot meet with him, so ho: So ho. Why what a pox wert thou so near me man, And would not speak? 'sblood ye are very hot. No sir, I am cold enough with staying here For such a knave as you. Knave, how now Philip, art mad, art mad? Why art not thou my man. That went to fetch my bow, Indeed a bow, Might shoot me ten bows down the weather so, I your man. What art thou then? A man, but what's thy name? Some call me Raph. Well said familiar Will, plain Raph i'faith, There calls my man. But there goes mine away. And yet I'll hear what this next call will say, And here I'll tarry till he call again. So ho. So ho, where art thou Philip, 'sblood Philip, But now he called me Francis, this is fine Why studiest thou? I prithee tell me Philip. Where the wench 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)
So ho, I come, where are ye? where art thou? hre. How now Franke, where hast thou been? Franke, what Franke? sbloud is sir Raph mad, heeres the bow. I haue not been much priuate with that voice, Me thinke Franke Goursy talke and his doth tell me, I am mistaken, especially by his bow, Franke had no bow, well, I will leaue this sellow, And hollow somewhat farther in the fields, Doost thou heare fellow, I perceiue by thee, That we are both mistaken, I tooke thee, For one thou art not, likewise thou tookst me, For sir Raph Smith, but sure I am not he, And so farewell, I must goe seeke my friend, so ho: So ho, so ho, nay then sir Raph so whoore, For a whore she was sure, if you had her here So late, now you are sir Raphe Smith, Well do ye counterfeit and change your voyce, But yet I know ye, but what should be that Francis? Belike that Francis cussend him of his wench, And he conceals himselfe to finde her ou, Tis so vpon my life, well I will go And helpe him ring his peale o so ho, soho, A plague on Coomes, a plague vpon the boy▪ A plague too, not on my mother for an hundreth bound, Twas time to runne, and yet I had not thought My mother could haue followed me so close, Her legges with age I thought had foundered, She made me quite runne through a quickset hedge, Or she had taken me: well I may say, I haue runne through the briers for a wenche, And yet I haue her not, the woorse lucke mine, Me thought I heard one hollow here about, I iudge it Philip, O the slaue will laugh When as he heares how that my mother scarde me, Well, heere Ile stand vntill I heare him hollow, And then Ile answere him, he is not farre. my man is hollowing for me vp and downe, And yet I cannot meet with him, so ho: So ho. Why what a poxe wert thou so neere me man, And would not speake? Sbloud ye are very hot. No sir, I am colde enough with staying here For uch a knaue as you. Knaue, how now Phillip, art mad, art mad? Why art not thou my man. That went to fetch my bowe, Indeed a bowe, Might shoote me ten bowes downe the weather so, your man. What art thou then? A man, but whats thy name? Some call me Raph. Well said familiar Will, plaine Raph I faith, There calles my man. But there goes mine away. And yet Ile heare what this next call will say, And here Ile tarrie till he call againe. So ho. So ho, where art thou Phillip, Sblould Phillip, But now he clade me Francis, this is fine Why studiest thou? I prethy tell me Philip. Where the wench is.