Wilson, Robert / Drayton, Michael / Munday, Anthony / Hathaway, Richard · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [Oct 16, payment] (Annals) history · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men unassigned nearest T13 Knights, squires and ladies · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
Ha, were I but as lusty as I was at the battle of Shrewsbury, I would not do as I do: but we are now come to the good lord Cobham's, to the best man to the poor that is in all Kent. God bless him, there be but few such. Thou peevish froward man, what wouldst thou have? This pride, this pride, brings all to beggary, I served your father, and your grandfather, Show me such two men now: no, no, Your backs, your backs, the devil and pride, Has cut the throat of all good housekeeping, They were the best Yeomens masters, that Ever were in England. Yea, except thou have a crew of silly knaves, And sturdy rogues, still feeding at my gate, There is no hospitality with thee. They may sit at the gate well enough, but the devil of any thing you give them, except they will eat stones. 'tis long then of such hungry knaves as you, Yea sir, here's your retinue, your guests be come, They know their hours I warrant you. God bless your honour, God save the good Lord Cobham, and all his house, Good your honour, bestow your blessed alms, Upon poor men. Now sir, here be your Alms knights. Now are you as safe as the Emperor. My Alms knights: nay, theyare yours, It is a shame for you, and I'll stand to't, Your foolish alms maintains more vagabonds, Than all the noblemen in Kent beside. Out you rogues, you knaves, work for your livings, Alas poor men, O Lord, they may beg their hearts out, There's no more charity amongst men, Then amongst so many mastiff dogs, What make you here, you needy knaves? Away, away, you villains. I beseech you sit, be good to us. Nay, nay, they know thee well enough, I think that all the beggars in this land are thy acquaintance, go bestow your alms, none will control you sir. What should I give them? you are grown so beggarly, you have scarce a bit of bread to give at your door: you talk of your religion so long, that you have banished charity from amongst you, a man may make a flax shop in your kitchen chimneys, for any fire there is stirring. If thou wilt give them nothing, send them hence, let them not stand here starving in the cold. Who I drive them hence? if I drive poor men from your door, I'll be hanged, I know not what I may come to myself: yea, God help you poor knaves, ye see the world i'faith, well, you had a mother: well, God be with thee good Lady, thy soul's at rest: she gave more in shirts and smocks to poor children, than you spend in your house, & yet you live a beggar too. even the worst deed that ere my mother did, was in relieving such a fool as thou.
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)
Ha, were I but as lusty as I was at the battell of Shrewsbury, I would not doe as I do: but we are now come to the good lord Cobhams, to the best man to the poore that is in all Kent. God blesse him, there be but few such. Thou peeuish froward man, what wouldst thou haue? This pride, this pride, brings all to beggarie, I seru'de your father, and your grandfather, Shew me such two men now: no, no, Your backes, your backes, the diuell and pride, Has cut the throate of all good housekeeping, They were the best Yeomens masters, that Euer were in England. Yea, except thou haue a crue of seely knaues, And sturdy rogues, still feeding at my gate, There is no hospitalitie with thee. They may sit at the gate well enough, but the diuell of any thing you giue them, except they will eate stones. Tis long then of such hungry knaues as you, Yea sir, heres your retinue, your guests be come, They know their howers I warrant you. God blesse your honour, God saue the good Lord Cobham, and all his house, Good your honour, bestow your blessed almes, Vpon poore men. Now sir, here be your Almes knights. Now are you as safe as the Emperour. My Almes knights: nay, th'are yours, It is a shame for you, and Ile stand too't, Your foolish almes maintaines more vagabonds, Then all the noblemen in Kent beside. Out you rogues, you knaues, worke for your liuings, Alas poore men, O Lord, they may beg their hearts out, Theres no more charitie amongst men, Then amongst so many mastiffe dogges, What make you here, you needy knaues? Away, away, you villaines. I beseech you sit, be good to vs. Nay, nay, they know thee well enough, I thinke that all the beggars in this land are thy acquaintance, goe bestowe your almes, none will controule you sir. What should I giue them? you are growne so beggarly, you haue scarce a bitte of breade to giue at your doore: you talke of your religion so long, that you haue banished charitie from amongst you, a man may make a flaxe shop in your kitchin chimnies, for any fire there is stirring. If thou wilt giue them nothing, send them hence, let them not stand here staruing in the colde. Who I driue them hence? if I driue poore men from your doore, Ile be hangd, I know not what I may come to my selfe: yea, God help you poore knaues, ye see the world yfaith, well, you had a mother: well, God be with thee good Lady, thy soule's at rest: she gaue more in shirts and smocks to poore children, then you spend in your house, & yet you liue a beggar too. Euen the worst deede that ere my mother did, was in releeuing such a foole as thou.