Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1597-1598] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 465 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust. No, nor I neither: I'll be at your elbow. If I but fist him once: if he come but within my Vice. I am undone with his going: I warrant he is an infinitive thing upon my score. Good M. Fang hold him sure: good M. Snare let him not scape, he comes continuantly to Py-Corner (saving your manhoods) to buy a saddle, and he is indicted to dinner to the Lubbars' head in Lombardstreet, to M. Smooths the Silkman. I pra'ye, since my Exion is entered, and my Case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer: A 100. Mark is a long one, for a poor lone woman to bear: & I have borne, and borne, and borne, and have been fubbed off, and fub'd-off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing, unless a woman should be made an Ass and a Beast, to bear every Knaves wrong. Yonder he comes, and that arrant Malmesey-Nose Bardolfe with him. Do your Offices, do your offices: M. Fang, & M. Snare, do me, do me, do me your Offices. How now? whose mere's dead? what's the matter? Sir Iohn, I arrest you, at the suit of Mist. Quickly. Away Varlets, draw Bardolfe: Cut me off the Villain's head: throw the Quean in the Channel. Throw me in the channel? I'll throw thee there. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue. Murder, murder, O thou Honeysuckle villain, wilt thou kill God's officers, and the Kings? O thou honyseed Rogue, thou art a honyseed, a Manqueller, and a woman-queller. Keep them off, Bardolfe. A rescu, a rescu. Good people bring a rescu. Thou wilt not? thou wilt not? Do, do thou Rogue: Do thou Hempseed. Away you Scullion, you Rampallian, you Fustillirian: I'll tuck your Catastrophe. What's the matter? Keep the Peace here, hoa. Good my Lord be good to me. I beseech you stand to me. How now sir Iohn? What are you brawling here? Doth this become your place, your time, and business? You should have been well on your way to York. Stand from him Fellow; wherefore hangest upon him? Oh my most worshipful Lord, and't please your Grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit. For what sum? It is more than for some (my Lord) it is for all: all I have, he hath eaten me out of house and home; he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his: but I will have some of it out again, or I will ride thee o' Nights, like the Mare.
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)
If I can cloſe with him, I care not for his thruſt. No, nor I neither: Ile be at your elbow. If I but fiſt him once: if he come but within my Vice. I am vndone with his going: I warrant he is an infinitiue thing vpon my ſcore. Good M. Fang hold him ſure: good M. Snare let him not ſcape, he comes continuantly to Py-Corner (ſauing your manhoods) to buy a ſaddle, and hee is indited to dinner to the Lubbars head in Lombardſtreet, to M. Smoothes the Silkman. I pra'ye, ſince my Exion is enter'd, and my Caſe ſo openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his anſwer: A 100. Marke is a long one, for a poore lone woman to beare: & I haue borne, and borne, and borne, and haue bin fub'd off, and fub'd-off, from this day to that day, that it is a ſhame to be thought on. There is no honeſty in ſuch dealing, vnles a woman ſhould be made an Aſſe and a Beaſt, to beare euery Knaues wrong. Yonder he comes, and that arrant Malmeſey-Noſe Bardolfe with him. Do your Offices, do your offices: M. Fang, & M. Snare, do me, do me, do me your Offices. How now? whoſe Mare's dead? what's the matter? Sir Iohn, I arreſt you, at the ſuit of Miſt. Quickly. Away Varlets, draw Bardolfe: Cut me off the Villaines head: throw the Queane in the Channel. Throw me in the channell? Ile throw thee there. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou baſtardly rogue. Murder, murder, O thou Hony-ſuckle villaine, wilt thou kill Gods officers, and the Kings? O thou hony-ſeed Rogue, thou art a honyſeed, a Man-queller, and a woman-queller. Keep them off, Bardolfe. A reſcu, a reſcu. Good people bring a reſcu. Thou wilt not? thou wilt not? Do, do thou Rogue: Do thou Hempſeed. Away you Scullion, you Rampallian, you Fuſtillirian: Ile tucke your Cataſtrophe. What's the matter? Keepe the Peace here, hoa. Good my Lord be good to mee. I beſeech you ſtand to me. How now ſir Iohn? What are you brauling here? Doth this become your place, your time, and buſineſſe? You ſhould haue bene well on your way to Yorke. Stand from him Fellow; wherefore hang'ſt vpon him? Oh my moſt worſhipfull Lord, and't pleaſe your Grace, I am a poore widdow of Eaſtcheap, and he is arreſted at my ſuit. For what ſumme? It is more then for ſome (my Lord) it is for all: all I haue, he hath eaten me out of houſe and home; hee hath put all my ſubſtance into that fat belly of his: but I will haue ſome of it out againe, or I will ride thee o' Nights, like the Mare.