The Shoemaker's Holiday, or The Gentle Craft · chunk 6 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 T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Good morrow young Mistress, I am sure you make that garland for me, against I shall be Lady of the Harvest. Sibyl, what news at London? None but good: my lord Mayor your father, and master Philpot your uncle, and master Scot your cousin, and mistress Frigbottom by Doctors Commons, do all (by my troth) send you most hearty commendations. Did Lacy send kind greetings to his love? O yes, out of cry, by my troth, I scant knew him, here a wore scarf, and here a scarf, here a bunch of feathers, and here precious stones and jewels, and a pair of garters: O monstrous like one of our yellow silk curtains, at home here in Old-ford house, here in master Bellymount's chamber, I stood at our door in Cornhill, looked at him, he at me indeed, spoke to him, but he not to me, not a word, mary guy thought I with a wanion, he passed by me as proud, mary foh, are you grown humorous thought I? and so shut the door, and in I came. O Sibyl, how dost thou my Lacy wrong? My Rowland is as gentle as a lamb, No dove was ever half so mild as he. Mild? yea, as a bushel of stamped crabs, he looked upon me as sour as verjuice: go thy ways thought I, thou mayst be much in my gaskins, but nothing in my netherstocks: this is your fault mistress, to love him that loves not you, he thinks scorn to do as he's done to, but if I were as you, I'd cry, go by Ieronimo, go by, I'd set mine old debts against my new driblets, and the hare's foot against the goose giblets, for if ever I sigh when sleep I should take, pray God I may lose my maidenhead when I wake. Will my love leave me then and go to France? I know not that, but I am sure I see him stalk before the soldiers, by my troth he is a proper man, but he is proper that proper doth, let him go snick-up young mistress. Get thee to London, and learn perfectly, Whether my Lacy go to France, or no: Do this, and I will give thee for thy pains, My cambric apron, and my romish gloves, My purple stockings, and a stomacher, Say, wilt thou do this Sibyl for my sake? will I quoth 'a? at whose suit? by my troth yes, I'll go, a cambric apron, gloves, a pair of purple stockings, and a stomacher, I'll sweat in purple mistress for you, i'll take any thing that comes a God's name, O rich, a cambric apron; faith then have at up tails all, I'll go, jiggy, jeggy to London, and be here in a trice young mistress. Do so good Sibyl, mean time wretched I Will sit and sigh for his lost company.
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)
Good morrow yong Mistris, I am sure you make that garland for me, against I shall be Lady of the Haruest. Sibil, what news at London? Noue but good: my lord Mayor your father, and maister Philpot your vncle, and maister Scot your coosin, and mistris Frigbottom by Doctors Commons, doe all (by my troth) send you most hearty commendations. Did Lacy send kind gréetings to his loue? O yes, out of cry, by my troth, I scant knew him, here a wore scarffe, and here a scarfe, here a bunch of fethers, and here pretious stones and iewells, and a paire of garters: O monstrous like one of our yellow silke curtains, at home here in Old-ford house, here in maister Bellymounts chamber, I stoode at our doore in Cornehill, lookt at him, he at me indeed, spake to him, but he not to me, not a word, mary guy thought I with a wanion, he passt by me as prowde, mary foh, are you growne humorous thought I? and so shut the doore, and in I came. O Sibill, how dest thou my Lacy wrong? My Rowland is as gentle as a lambe, No doue was euer halfe so milde as he. Milde? yea, as a bushel of stampt crabs, he lookt vpon me as sowre as veriuice: goe thy wayes thought I, thou maist be much in my gaskins, but nothing in my neatherstockes: this is your fault mistris, to loue him that loues not you, he thinkes scorne to do as he's done to, but if I were as you, Ide cry, go by Ieronimo, go by, Ide set mine olde debts against my new driblets, and the hares foot against the goose giblets, for if euer I sigh when sléepe I shoulde take, pray God I may loose my mayden-head when I wake. Will my loue leaue me then and go to France? I knowe not that, but I am sure I see him stalke before the souldiers, by my troth he is a propper man, but he is proper that proper doth, let him goe snicke-vp yong mistris. Get thée to London, and learne perfectly, Whether my Lacy go to France, or no: Do this, and I wil giue thée for thy paines, My cambricke apron, and my romish gloues, My purple stockings, and a stomacher, Say, wilt thou do this Sibil for my sake? Wil I quoth a? at whose suite? by my troth yes, Ile go, a cambricke apron, gloues, a paire of purple stockings, and a stomacher, Ile sweat in purple mistris for you, ile take any thing that comes a Gods name, O rich, a Cambricke apron; faith then haue at vp tailes all, Ile go, Iiggy, Ieggy to London, and be here in a trice yong mistris. Do so good Sibill, meane time wretched I Will sit and sigh for his lost companie.