Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1599 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 501 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
O, how I do feed upon this now, and fat myself! here were a couple unexpectedly dishumoured: well, by this time, I hope, sir PUNTARVOLO and his dog are both out of humour to travail. Nay, gentlemen, why do you not seek out the knight, and comfort him? our supper at the Mitre must of necessity hold to night, if you love your reputations. 'Fore god, I am so melancholy for his dog's disaster, but I'll go. Faith, and I may go too, but I know, I shall be so melancholy. Tush, melancholy? you must forget that now, and remember you lie at the mercy of a fury: CARLO will rack your sinews asunder, and rail you to dust, if you come not. O, than their fear of CARLO, belike, makes them hold their meeting. I, here he comes: conceive him but to be entered the Mitre, and 'tis enough. HOlla: where be these shot-sharks? By and by: you're welcome, good master BUFFONE. Where's GEORGE? calm GEORGE hither, quickly. What wine please you have, sir? I'll draw you that's neat, master BUFFONE. Away NEOPHYTE, do as I bid thee, bring my dear GEORGE to me: Mass, here he comes. Welcome, master CARLO. What! is supper ready, GEORGE? I, sir, almost: will you have the cloth laid, master CARLO? O, what else? are none of the gallants come, yet? None yet, sir. Stay, take me with you, GEORGE: let me have a good faloyne of pork laid to the fire, presently. It shall, sir. And withal, hear you? draw me the biggest shaft you have, out of the butt you wot of: away, you know my meaning, GEORGE, quick. Done, sir. I never hungered so much for thing in my life, as I do to know our gallants success at court: now is that lean bald-rib MACILENTE, that salt villain, plotting some mischicuous device, and lies a soaking in their frothy humours like a dry crust, till he has drunk 'em all up: could the pumice but hold up his eyes at other men's happiness, in any reasonable proportion: 'Slid, the slave were to be loved next heaven, above honour, wealth, rich fare, apparel, wenches, all the delights of the belly, and the groin, whatever. Here, master CARLO. Is't right, Boy? I, sir, I assure you 'tis right. Well said, my dear GEORGE, depart: Come, my small gimlet, you in the false scabbard, away, so. Now to you, sir Burgomaster, let's taste of your bounty. What, will he deal upon such quantities of wine, alone? You will perceive that, sir. I marry, sir, here's purity: O, GEORGE, I could bite off his nose for this, now: Sweet rogue, he has drawn Nectar, the very soul of the grape! I'll wash my temples with some on't presently, and drink some half a score draughts; 'twill heat the brain, kindle my imagination, I shall talk nothing but crackers, and firework, to night. So, sir! please you to be here, sir, and I here: So.
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)
O, how I doe feed vpon this now, and fat my selfe! here were a couple vnexpectedly dishumour'd: well, by this time, I hope, sir PVNTARVOLO and his dog are both out of humour to trauaile. Nay, gentlemen, why doe you not seeke out the knight, and comfort him? our supper at the Mitre must of necessitie hold to night, if you loue your reputations. 'Fore god, I am so melancholy for his dogs disaster, but I'le goe. Faith, and I may goe too, but I know, I shall be so melancholy. Tush, melancholy? you must forget that now, and remember you lie at the mercy of a furie: CARLO will racke your sinewes asunder, and raile you to dust, if you come not. O, then their feare of CARLO, belike, makes them hold their meeting. I, here he comes: conceiue him but to be enter'd the Mitre, and 'tis enough. HOlla: where be these shot-sharkes? By and by: you're welcome, good master BVFFONE. Where's GEORGE? calme GEORGE hither, quickly. What wine please you haue, sir? I'le draw you that's neat, master BVFFONE. Away NEOPHITE, do as I bid thee, bring my deare GEORGE to me: Masse, here he comes. Welcome, master CARLO. What! is supper ready, GEORGE? I, sir, almost: will you haue the cloth laid, master CARLO? O, what else? are none of the gallants come, yet? None yet, sir. Stay, take mee with you, GEORGE: let mee haue a good faloyne of porke laid to the fire, presently. It shall, sir. And withall, heare you? draw me the biggest shaft you haue, out of the butt you wo of: away, you know my meaning, GEORGE, quicke. Done, sir. I neuer hungred so much for thing in my life, as I doe to know our gallants successe at court: now is that leane bald-rib MACILENTE, that salt villaine, plotting some mischicuous deuice, and lyes a soking in their frothy humours like a drie crust, till he has drunke 'hem all vp: could the pummise but hold vp his eyes at other mens happines, in any reasonable proportion: S'lid, the slaue were to be lou'd next heauen, aboue honour, wealth, rich fare, apparell, wenches, all the delights of the belly, and the groine, whateuer. Here, master CARLO. Is't right, Boy? I, sir, I assure you 'tis right. Well said, my deare GEORGE, depart: Come, my small gymblet, you in the false scabberd, away, so. Now to you, sir Brgomaster, let's taste of your bountie. What, will he deale vpon such quantities of wine, alone? You will perceiue that, sir. I mary, sir, here's puritie: O, GEORGE, I could bite off his nose for this, now: Sweet rogue, he has drawne Nectar, the very soule of the grape! I'le wash my temples with some on't presently, and drinke some halfe a score draughts; 'twill heat the braine, kindle my imagination, I shall talke nothing but crackers, and fire-worke, to night. So, sir! please you to be here, sir, and I here: So.