Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1597-1598] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T41 Household service: masters, doors and po typicality 0.88 · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
See now whether pure fear and entire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us: is she of the wicked, is thine hostess here of the wicked, or is thy boy of the wicked or honest Bardolfe whose zeal burns in his nose of the wicked? Answer thou dead elm, answer. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolfe irrecoverable, and his face is Lucifer's privy kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast mault-worms, for the boy there is a good angel about him, but the devil blinds him too. For the women. For one of them she's in hell already, and burns poor souls: for th'other I own her money, and whether she be damned for that I know not. No I warrant you. No I think thou art not, I think thou art quit for that, mary there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house contrary to the law, for the which I think thou wilt howl. All victuallers do so, what's a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent? You gentlewoman. What says your grace? His grace says that which his flesh rebels against. Who knocks so loud at door? look to'th door there Francis. Peyto, how now, what news? The King your father is at Westminster, And there are twenty weak and wearied posts, Come from the North, and as I came along I met and overtook a dozen captains, Bareheaded, sweeting, knocking at the Taverns, And ask every one for sir Iohn Falstaff. By heaven Poines, I feel me much too blame, So idly to profane the precious time, When tempest of commotion like the south. Born with black vapour doth begin to melt, And drop upon our bare unarmed heads, Give me my sword and cloak: Falstaff good night. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, & we must hence and leave it unpickt: more knocking at the door, how now, what's the matter? You must away to court sir presently, A dozen captains stay at door for you. Pay the musicians sirrah, farewell hostess, farewell Dol, you see my good wenches how men of merit are sought after, the undeseruer may sleep, when the man of action is called on, farewell good wenches, if I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I go. I cannot speak, if my heart be not ready to burst: well sweet Iacke, have a care of thyself. Farewell, farewell. Well, far thee well, I have known thee these twenty nine years, come pease-cod time, but an honester, and truer hearted man: well, far thee well. Mistress Tere-sheete. What's the matter? Bid mistress Tere-sheete come to my master. O run Doll, run, run good Doll, come, she comes blubbered, yea? will you come Doll? Come on, come on, come on, give me your hand sir, give me your hand sir, an early stirrer, by the Rood: and how doth my good cousin Silence?
seed 43: T27 · seed 44: T21 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
See now whether pure feare and intire cowardize, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with vs: is she of the wicked, is thine hostesse here of the wicked, or is thy boy of the wicked or honest Bardolfe whose zeal burnes in his nose of the wicked? Answer thou dead elme, answer. The fiend hath prickt down Bardolfe irrecouerable, and his face is Lucifers priuy kitchin, where he doth nothing but rost mault-worms, for the boy there is a good angel about him, but the diuel blinds him too. For the weomen. For one of them shees in hell already, and burnes poore soules: for th'other I owe her mony, and whether she be damnd for that I know not. No I warrant you. No I thinke thou art not, I thinke thou art quit for that, mary there is another inditement vpon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house contrary to the law, for the which I thinke thou wilt howle. Al vitlars do so, whats a ioynt of mutton or twoo in a whole Lent? You gentlewoman. What saies your grace? His grace saies that which his flesh rebels against. Who knockes so lowd at doore? looke too'th doore there Francis. Peyto, how now, what newes? The King your father is at Westminster, And there are twenty weake and wearied postes, Come from the North, and as I came along I met and ouertooke a dozen captaines, Bareheaded, sweating, knocking at the Tauernes, And asking euery one for sir Iohn Falstaffe. By heauen Poines, I feele me much too blame, So idely to prophane the precious time, When tempest of commotion like the south. Borne with blacke vapour doth begin to melt, And drop vpon our bare vnarmed heads, Giue me my sword and cloke: Falstaffe good night. Now coms in the sweetest morsell of the night, & we must hence and leaue it vnpickt: more knocking at the doore, how now, whats the matter? You must away to court sir presently, A dozen captaines stay at doore for you. Pay the musitions sirra, farewel hostesse, farewel Dol, you see my good wenches how men of merrite are sought after, the vndeseruer may sleepe, when the man of action is cald on, farewell good wenches, if I be not sent away poste, I will see you againe ere I goe. I cannot speake, if my hart be not ready to burst: wel sweete Iacke, haue a care of thy selfe. Farewell, farewell. Wel, fare thee wel, I haue knowne thee these twentie nine yeeres, come pease-cod time, but an honester, and truer hearted man: wel, fare thee wel. Mistris Tere-sheete. Whats the matter? Bid mistris Tere-sheete come to my maister. O runne Doll, runne, runne good Doll, come, shee comes blubberd, yea? wil you come Doll? Come on, come on, come on, giue me your hand sir, giue me your hand sir, an early stirrer, by the Roode: and how doth my good coosin Silence?