The Shoemaker's Holiday, or The Gentle Craft · chunk 7 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 · 469 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
How many shapes have gods and kings devised, Thereby to compass their desired loves? It is no shame for Rowland Lacy then, To clothe his cunning with the Gentle Craft, That thus disguised, I may unknown possess, The only happy presence of my Rose: For her have I forsook my charge in France, incurred the king's displeasure, and stirred up Rough hatred in mine uncle Lincoln's breast: O love, how powerful art thou, that canst change High birth to bareness, and a noble mind, To the mean semblance of a shoemaker? But thus it must be: for her cruel father, Hating the single union of our souls, Hath secretly conveyed my Rose from London, To bar me of her presence, but I trust Fortune and this disguise will further me Once more to view her beauty, gain her sight. Here in Towerstreet, with Air the shoemaker, Mean I a while to work, I know the trade, I learned it when I was in Wittenberg: Then cheer thy hoping sprites, be not dismayed, Thou canst not want, do fortune what she can, The Gentle Craft is living for a man. Where be these boys, these girls, these drabs, these scoundrels, they wallow in the fat brewis of my bounty, and I lock up the crumbs of my table, yet will not rise to see my walks cleansed: come out you powder-beef-queens, what Nan, what Madge-mumble-crust, come out you fat Midriff-swag, belly-whores, and sweep me these kennels, that the noisome stench offend not the nose of my neighbours: what Firk I say, what Hodge? open my shop windows, what Firk I say. O master, is't you that speak bandog and bedlam this morning, I was in a dream, and mused what mad man was got into the street so early, have you drunk this morning that your throat is so clear? Ah well said Firk, well said Firk, to work my fine knave, to work, wash thy face, and thou t be more blessed. Let them wash my face that will eat it, good master send for a souse wife, if you'll have my face cleaner. Away sloven, avaunt scoundrel, good morrow Hodge, good morrow my fine foreman. O master, good morrow, you're an early stirrer, here's a fair morning, good morrow Firk, I could have slept this hour, here's a brave day towards. O haste to work my fine foreman, haste to work. Master I am dry as dust, to hear my fellow Roger talk of fair weather, let us pray for good leather, and let clowns and plowboys, and those that work in the fields, pray for brave days, we work in a dry shop, what care I if it rain? How now dame Margery, can you see to rise? trip and go, call up the drabs your maids.
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)
How many shapes haue gods and kings deuisde, Thereby to compasse their desired loues? It is no shame for Rowland Lacy then, To clothe his cunning with the Gentle Craft, That thus disguisde, I may vnknowne possesse, The onely happie presence of my Rose: For her haue I forsooke my charge in France, Incurd the Kings displeasure, and stir'd vp Rough hatred in mine vncle Lincolnes brest: O loue, how powerfull art thou, that canst change High birth to barenesse, and a noble mind, To the meane semblance of a shooemaker? But thus it must be: for her cruell father, Hating the single vnion of our soules, Hath secretly conueyd my Rose from London, To barre me of her presence, but I trust Fortune and this disguise will furder me Once more to view her beautie, gaine her sight. Here in Towerstréete, with Ayre the shooe-maker, Meane I a while to worke, I know the trade, I learn't it when I was in Wittenberge: Then cheere thy hoping sprites, be not dismaide, Thou canst not want, do fortune what she can, The Gentle Craft is liuing for a man. Where be these boyes, these girles, these drabbes, these scoundrels, they wallow in the fat brewisse of my boū tie, and I locke vp the crums of my table, yet wil not rise to see my walkes cleansed: come out you powder-beefe-queanes, what Nan, what Madge-mumble-crust, come out you fatte Midriffe-swag, belly-whores, and swéepe me these kennels, that the noysome stench offende not the nose of my neighbours: what Firke I say, what Hodge? open my shop windowes, what Firke I say. O master, ist you that speake bandog and bedlam this morning, I was in a dreame, and muzed what madde man was got into the streete so earlie, haue you drunke this morning that your throate is so cleere? Ah well saide Firke, well said Firke, to worke my fine knaue, to worke, wash thy face, and thou t be more blest. Let them wash my face that will eate it, good maister send for a sowce wife, if youle haue my face cleaner. Away slouen, auaunt scoundrell, good morrow Hodge, good morrow my fine foreman. O maister, good morrow, yare an earlie stirrer, heeres a faire morning, good morrow Firke, I could haue slept this howre, héeres a braue day towards. O haste to worke my fine foreman, haste to worke. Maister I am drie as dust, to heare my fellow Roger talke of faire weather, let vs pray for good leather, and let clownes and plowboyes, and those that worke in the fieldes, pray for braue dayes, wee worke in a drie shop, what care I if it raine? How now dame Margery, can you sée to rise? trip and go, call vp the drabs your maides.