The Shoemaker's Holiday, or The Gentle Craft · chunk 5 of 38
Dekker, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [Jul 15, payment] (Annals) comedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T32 Rings and jewels as tokens · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T32: ring, ti, gave, finger, jewel, lady, lord, love, invisible, away.
Therefore coz, It shall behove you to be circumspect, Fear not good cozen: Raph, hie to your colours. I must, because there's no remedy, But gentle master and my loving dame, As you have always been a friend to me, So in mine absence think upon my wife. Alas my Raph. She cannot speak for weeping. Peace you cracked groats, you mustard tokens, disquiet not the brave soldier, go thy ways Raph. I ay, you bid him go, what shall I do when he is gone? Why be doing with me, or my fellow Hodge, be not idle. Let me see thy hand Iane, this fine hand, this white hand, these pretty fingers must spin, must card, must work, work you bombast cotton-candle-quean, work for your living with a pox to you: hold thee Raph, here's five sixpences for thee, fight for the honour of the Gentle Craft, for the gentlemen Shoemakers, the courageous Cordwainers, the flower of S. Martin's, the mad knaves of Bedlam, Fleetstreet, Towerstreet, and white Chapel, crack me the crowns of the French knaves, a poor on them, crack them, fight, by the lord of Ludgate, fight my fine boy. Here Rafe, here's three two pences, two carry into France, the third shall wash our souls at parting (for sorrow is dry) for my sake, Firk the Basa mon cues. Raph, I am heavy at parting, but here's a shilling for thee, God send thee to cram thy slops with French crowns, and thy enemy's bellies with bullets. I thank you master, and I thank you all: Now gentle wife, my loving lovely Iane, Rich men at parting, give their wives rich gifts, Jewels and rings, to grace their lily hands, Thou know'st our trade makes rings for women's heels: Here take this pair of shoes cut out by Hodge, stitched by my fellow Firk, seamed by myself, Made up and pinked, with letters for thy name, Wear them my dear Iane, for thy husband's sake, And every morning when thou pullest them on, Remember me, and pray for my return, Make much of them, for I have made them so, That I can know them from a thousand more. Here sit thou down upon this flowery bank, And make a garland for thy Lacy's head, These pinks, these roses, and these violets, These blushing gilly-flowers, these marigolds, The fair embroidery of his coronet, Carry not half such beauty in their cheeks, As the sweet countenance of my Lacy doth. O my most unkind father! O my stars! Why powered you so at my nativity, To make me love, yet live robbed of my love? Here as a thief am I imprisoned (For my dear Lacy's sake) within those walls, Which by my father's cost were builded up For better purposes: here must I languish For him that doth as much lament (I know) Mine absence, as for him I pine in woe.
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)
Therefore coze, It shall behooue you to be circumspect, Feare not good cosen: Raph, hie to your colours. I must, because theres no remedie, But gentle maister and my louing dame, As you haue alwaies béene a friend to me, So in mine absence thinke vpon my wife. Alas my Raph. She cannot speake for wéeping. Peace you crackt groates, you mustard tokens, disquiet not the braue souldier, goe thy waies Raph. I I, you bid him go, what shal I do when he is gone? Why be doing with me, or my felow Hodge, be not idle. Let me sée thy hand Iane, this fine hand, this white hand, these prettie fingers must spin, must card, must worke, worke you bembast cotten-candle-queane, worke for your liuing with a pox to you: hold thée Raph, heres fiue sixpences for thée, fight for the honour of the Gentle Craft, for the gentlemen Shoomakers, the couragious Cordwainers, the flower of S. Martins, the mad knaues of Bedlem, Fléetstréete, Towerstréete, and white Chappell, cracke me the crownes of the French knaues, a pore on them, cracke them, fight, by the lord of Ludgate, fight my fine boy. Here Rafe, here's thrée two pences, two carry into France, the third shal wash our soules at parting (for sorrow is drie) for my sake, Firke the Basa mon cues. Raph, I am heauy at parting, but heres a shilling for thée, God send thée to cramme thy slops with French crownes, and thy enemies bellies with bullets. I thanke you maister, and I thanke you all: Now gentle wife, my louing louely Iane, Rich men at parting, giue their wiues rich gifts, Jewels and rings, to grace their lillie hands, Thou know'st our trade makes rings for womens héeles: Here take this paire of shooes cut out by Hodge, Sticht by my fellow Firke, seam'd by my selfe, Made vp and pinckt, with letters for thy name, Weare them my déere Iane, for thy husbands sake, And euerie morning when thou pull'st them on, Remember me, and pray for my returne, Make much of them, for I have made them so, That I can know them from a thousand mo. Here sit thou downe vpon this flowry banke, And make a garland for thy Lacies head, These pinkes, these roses, and these violets, These blushing gilliflowers, these marigoldes, The faire embrodery of his coronet, Carry not halfe such beauty in their chéekes, As the swéete countnaunce of my Lacy doth. O my most vnkinde father! O my starres! Why lowrde you so at my natiuity, To make me loue, yet liue robd of my loue? Here as a théefe am I imprisoned (For my déere Lacies sake) within those walles, Which by my fathers cost were builded vp For better purposes: here must I languish For him that doth as much lament (I know) Mine absence, as for him I pine in woe.