The Shoemaker's Holiday, or The Gentle Craft · chunk 12 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 T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 478 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
Yea, yea, 'tis well, I must be called rubbish, kitchen stuff, for a sort of knaves. Nay dame, you shall not weep and wail in woe for me: master I'll stay no longer, here's a inventory of my shop tools: adieu master, Hodge farewell. Nay stay Firk, thou shalt not go alone. I pray let them go, there be more maids than malkin, more men than Hodge, and more fools than Firk. fools? nails if I tarry now, I would my guts might be turned to shoe-thread. And if I stay, I pray God I may be turned to a Turk, and set in Finsbury for boys to shoot at: come Firk. Stay my fine knaves, you arms of my trade, you pillars of my profession. What, shall a tittle tattles words make you forsake Simon Eyre? avaunt kitchenstuff, rip you brown bread tannakin, out of my sight, move me not, have not I ta'en you from selling tripes in Eastcheap, and set you in my shop, and made you hail fellow with Simon Eyre the shoemaker? and now do you deal thus with my journeymen? Look you powder beef quean on the face of Hodge, here's a face for a Lord. And here's a face for any Lady in Christendom. Rip you chitterling, avaunt boy, bid the tapster of the boar's head fill me a dozen cans of beer for my journeymen. A dozen Cans? O brave, Hodge now I'll stay. And the knave fills any more than two, he pays for them: a dozen Cans of beer for my journeymen, hear you mad Mesopotamians, wash your livers with this liquor, where be the odd ten? no more Madge, no more, well said, drink & to work: what work dost thou Hodge? what work? I am a making a pair of shoes for my Lord majors daughter, mistress Rose. And I a pair of shoes for Sibyl my Lord's maid, I deal with her. Sibyl? fie, defile not thy fine workmanly fingers with the feet of kitchenstuff, and basting ladies, Ladies of the Court, fine Ladies, my lads, commit their feet to our appareling, put gross work to Hans; yerk and seam, yerk and seam. For yarking & seeming let me alone, & I come to't. Well master, all this is from the bias, do you remember the ship my fellow Hans told you of, the Skipper and he are both drinking at the swan? here be the Portuguese to give earnest, if you go through with it, you can not choose but be a Lord at least. Nay dame, if my master prove not a Lord, and you a Lady, hang me. Yea like enough, if you may loiter and tipple thus. Tipple dame? no, we have been bargaining with Skellum Skanderbag: can you Dutch spreaken for a ship of silk Cypress, laden with sugar Candie.
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)
Yea, yea, tis wel, I must be cald rubbish, kitchin stuffe, for a sort of knaues. Nay dame, you shall not wéepe and waile in woe for me: master Ile stay no longer, here's a vennentorie of my shop tooles: adue master, Hodge farewel. Nay stay Firke, thou shalt not go alone. I pray let them goe, there be mo maides then mawkin, more men then Hodge, and more fooles then Firke. Fooles? nailes if I tarry nowe, I would my guts might be turnd to shoo-thread. And if I stay, I pray God I may be turnd to a Turke, and set in Finsbury for boyes to shoot at: come Firk. Stay my fine knaues, you armes of my trade, you pillars of my professiō. What, shal a tittle tattles words make you forsake Simon Eyre? auaunt kitchinstuffe, rip you brown bread tannikin, out of my sight, moue me not, haue not I tane you from selling tripes in Eastcheape, and set you in my shop, and made you haile fellowe with Simon Eyre the shoomaker? and now do you deale thus with my Iourneymen? Looke you powder béefe queane on the face of Hodge, heers a face for a Lord. And heers a face for any Lady in Christendome. Rip you chitterling, auaunt boy, bid the tapster of the Bores head fil me a doozen Cannes of béere for my iourneymen. A doozen Cans? O braue, Hodge now Ile stay. And the knaue fils any more then two, he payes for them: a doozen Cans of béere for my iourneymen, heare you mad Mesopotamians, wash your liuers with this liquour, where be the odde ten? no more Madge, no more, wel saide, drinke & to work: what worke dost thou Hodge? what work? I am a making a paire of shooes for my Lord Maiors daughter, mistresse Rose. And I a paire of shooes for Sybill my Lords maid, I deale with her. Sybil? fie, defile not thy fine workemanly fingers with the féete of Kitchinstuffe, and basting ladies, Ladies of the Court, fine Ladies, my lads, commit their feete to our apparelling, put grosse worke to Hans; yarke and seame, yarke and seame. For yarking & seaming let me alone, & I come toot. Wel maister, al this is from the bias, do you remember the ship my fellow Hans told you of, the Skipper and he are both drinking at the swan? here be the Portigues to giue earnest, if you go through with it, you can not choose but be a Lord at least. Nay dame, if my master prone not a Lord, and you a Ladie, hang me. Yea like inough, if you may loiter and tipple thus. Tipple dame? no, we haue béene bargaining with Skellum Skanderbag: can you Dutch spreaken for a ship of silke Cipresse, laden with sugar Candie.