Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1597-1598] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 512 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
God send the wench no worse fortune, but I never said so. Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us, is your master here in London? Yea my Lord. Where sups he? doth the old boar feed in the old Frank? At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap. What company? Ephesians, my lord, of the old church. Sup any women with him? None my lord, but old mistress Quickly, and mistress Dol Tere-sheet. What Pagan may that be? A proper gentlewoman sir, and a kinswoman of my masters. Even such kin as the parish Heiffors are to the town ●ull, shall we steal upon them Ned at supper? I am your shadow my Lord, i'll follow you. Sirrah▪ you boy and Bardolfe, no word to your master that I am yet come to town; there's for your silence. I have no tongue sir. And for mine sir, I will govern it. Far you well: go, this Doll Tere-sheete should be some road. I warrant you, as common as the way between S. Albon and London. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to night in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen? Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at his table as drawers. From a god to a bull, a heavy descension, it was Ioues case, from a pince to a prentice, a low transformation, that shall be mine, for in every thing the purpose must weigh with the folly, follow me Ned. I pray thee loving wife and gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough affairs, Put not you on the visage of the times, And be like them to Percy troublesome. I have given over, I will speak no more, Do what you will, your wisdom be your guide. Alas sweet wife, my honour is at pawn, And but my going, nothing can redeem it. O yet for God's sake go not to these wars, The time was father, that you broke your word, When you were more endear to it then now, When your own Percy, when my hearts dear Harry, Threw many a Northward look, to see his father Bring up his powers, but he did long in vain. Who then persuaded you to stay at home? There were two honours lost, yours▪ and your sons, For yours, the God of heaven brighten it, For his, it stuck upon him as the sun In the grey vault of heaven, and by his light Did all the Chivalry of England move To do brave acts, he was indeed the glass Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. Beshrew your heart, Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me, With new lamenting ancient oversights, But I must go and meet with danger there, Or it will seek me in an other place, And find me worse provided. O fly to Scotland, Till that the nobles and the armed commons, Have of their puissance made a little taste.
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)
God send the wench no worse fortune, but I never said so. Wel, thus we play the fooles with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clowdes and mocke vs, is your master here in London? Yea my Lord. Where sups he? doth the old boare feede in the old Franke? At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheape. VVhat companie? Ephesians, my lord, of the old church. Sup any women with him? None my lord, but old mistris Quickly, and mistris Dol Tere-sheet. VVhat Pagan may that be? A proper gentlewoman sir, and a kinswoman of my masters. Euen such kinne as the parish Heifors are to the towne ull, shall we steale vpon them Ned at supper? I am your shadow my Lord, ile follow you. Sirra▪ you boy and Bardolfe, no worde to your master that I am yet come to towne; theres for your silence. I haue no tongue sir. And for mine sir, I will gouerne it. Fare you well: go, this Doll Tere-sheete should be some rode. I warrant you, as common as the way between S. Albons and London. How might we see Falstaffe bestow himself to night in his true colours, and not our selues be seene? Put on two letherne ierkins and aprons, and waite vpon him at his table as drawers. From a god to a bul, a heauy descension, it was Ioues case, from a pince to a prentise, a low transformation, that shal be mine, for in euery thing the purpose must weigh with the folly, follow me Ned. I pray thee louing wife and gentle daughter, Giue euen way vnto my rough affaires, Put not you on the visage of the times, And be like them to Percy troublesome. I haue giuen ouer, I will speake no more, Do what you wil, your wisedome be your guide. Alas sweete wife, my honor is at pawne, And but my going, nothing can redeeme it. O yet for Gods sake go not to these wars, The time was father, that you broke your word, When you were more endeere to it then now, When your owne Percie, when my hearts deere Harry, Threw many a Northward looke, to see his father Bring vp his powers, but he did long in vaine. Who then perswaded you to stay at home? There were two honors lost, yours▪ and your sonnes, For yours, the God of heauen brighten it, For his, it stucke vpon him as the sunne In the grey vault of heauen, and by his light Did all the Cheualry of England moue To do braue acts, he was indeede the glasse Wherein the noble youth did dresse themselues. Beshrew your heart, Faire daughter, you do draw my spirites from me, With new lamenting ancient ouersights, But I must go and meete with danger there, Or it will seeke me in an other place, And find me worse prouided. O flie to Scotland, Till that the nobles and the armed commons, Haue of their puissance made a little taste.