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 T6 Money, debt and credit typicality 0.80 · 511 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
I'faith but one, dost wonder how I come by gold? I wonder rather how poor soldiers should have gold, for I'll tell thee good fellow, we have every day tithes, offerings, christenings, weddings, burials: and you poor snakes come seldom to a booty. I'll speak a proud word, I have but one parsonage, Wrotham, 'tis better than the bishopric of Rochester, there's near a hill, heath, nor down in all Kent, but 'tis in my parish, Barrham down, Chobham down, Gads hill, Wrotham hill, Black heath, cocks heath, Birchen wood, all pay me tithe, gold quoth 'a? ye pass not for that. Harry ye are out, now parson shake the dice. Set, set I'll cover ye at all: A plague on't I am out, the devil, and dice, and a wench, who will trust them? sayst thou so priest? set fair, at all for once. Out sir, pay all. 'sblood pay me angel gold, I'll none of your cracked French crowns nor pistolets, Pay me fair angel gold, as I pay you. No cracked french crowns? I hope to see more cracked french crowns ere long. Thou meanest of French men's crowns, when the King is in France. Set round, at all. Pay all: this is some luck. Give me the dice, 'tis I must shred the priest: At all sir Iohn. The devil and all is yours: at that: 'sdeath, what wasting is this? Well thrown Harry i'faith. I'll cast better yet. Then I'll be hanged. Sirrah, hast thou not given thy soul to the devil for casting? I pass for all. Thou passest all that ere I played withal: Sirrah, dost thou not cog, nor foist, nor slur? Set parson, set, the dice die in my hand: When parson, when? what can ye find no more? Already dry? was't you bragged of your store? All's gone but that. What, half a broken angel? Why sir, 'tis gold. Yea, and I'll cover it. The devil do ye good on't, I am blind, ye have blown me up. Nay tarry priest, ye shall not leave us yet, Do not these pieces fit each other well? What if they do? Thereby begins a tale: There was a thief, in face much like sir Iohn, But 'twas not he, that thief was all in green, Met me last day on Black Heath, near the park, With him a woman, I was all alone, And weaponlesse, my boy had al my oos, And was before providing me a boat: Short tale to make, sir Iohn, the thief I mean, Took a just hundredth pound in gold from me. I stormed at it, and swore to be revenged If ere we met, he like a lusty, broke with his teeth this Angel just in two, To be a token at our meeting next, Provided, I should charge no Officer To apprehend him, but at weapon's point Recover that, and what he had beside. Well met sir Iohn, betake ye to your tools By torch light, for master parson you are he That had my gold.
Wilson, Robert / Drayton, Michael / Munday, Anthony / Hathaway, Richard
Publication year (edition)
1600
First performance / composition (Annals)
1599 [Oct 16, payment]
First performance (BritDrama)
1599 [Nov]
Company (BritDrama)
Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men
Genre (British Drama)
history
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 376 · TCP A08469 · DEEP 291
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 1183–1233 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 25 of 42 in this edition
Length
511 words · 727 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T6 — Money, debt and creditcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.798 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T9 · seed 44: T10 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Yfaith but one, dost wonder how I come by gold? I wonder rather how poore souldiers should haue gold, for Ile tell thee good fellow, we haue euery day tythes, offerings, christnings, weddings, burialls: and you poore snakes come seldome to a bootie. Ile speake a prowd word, I haue but one parsonage, Wrootham, tis better than the Bishopprick of Rochester, theres nere a hill, heath, nor downe in all Kent, but tis in my parish, Barrham downe, Chobham downe, Gads hill, Wrootham hill, Blacke heath, Cockes heath, Birchen wood, all pay me tythe, gold quoth a? ye passe not for that. Harry ye are out, now parson shake the dice. Set, set Ile couer ye at al: A plague on't I am out, the diuell, and dice, and a wench, who will trust them? Saist thou so priest? set faire, at all for once. Out sir, pay all. Sbloud pay me angel gold, Ile none of your crackt French crownes nor pistolets, Pay me faire angel gold, as I pay you. No crackt french crownes? I hope to see more crackt french crownes ere long. Thou meanest of French mens crownes, when the King is in France. Set round, at all. Pay all: this is some lucke. Giue me the dice, tis I must shread the priest: At all sir Iohn. The diuell and all is yours: at that: sdeath, what asting is this? Well throwne Harry yfaith. Ile cast better yet. Then Ile be hangd. Sirra, hast thou not giuen thy soule to the diuell for casting? I passe for all. Thou passest all that ere I playde withall: Sirra, dost thou not cogge, nor foist, nor slurre? Set parson, set, the dice die in my hand: When parson, when? what can ye finde no more? Alreadie drie? wast you bragd of your store? Alls gone but that. What, halfe a broken angell? Why sir, tis gold. Yea, and Ile couer it. The diuell do ye good on't, I am blinde, yee haue blowne me vp. Nay tarry priest, ye shall not leaue vs yet, Do not these peeces fit each other well? What if they do? Thereby beginnes a tale: There was a thiefe, in face much like sir Iohn, But t'was not hee, that thiefe was all in greene, Met me last day on Blacke Heath, neere the parke, With him a woman, I was al alone, And weaponlesse, my boy had al my oos, And was before prouiding me a boate: Short tale to make, sir Iohn, the thiefe I meane, Tooke a iust hundreth pound in gold from me. I storm'd at it, and be reueng'de If ere we met, he like a , Brake with his teeth this ust in two, To be a token at our meeting next, Prouided, I should charge no Officer To apprehend him, but at weapons point Recouer that, and what he had beside. Well met sir Iohn, betake ye to your tooles By torch light, for master parson you are he That had my gold.