The Shoemaker's Holiday, or The Gentle Craft · chunk 18 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 · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Yea truly Rafe, I thank my maker: but let that pass. And sirrah Rafe, what news, what news in France? Tell me good Roger first, what news in England? Haw does my Iane? when didst thou see my wife? Where lives my poor heart? she'll be poor indeed Now I want limbs to get whereon to feed. Limbs? hast thou not hands man? thou shalt never see a shoemaker want bread, though he have but three fingers on a hand. Yet all this while I hear not of my Iane. O Rafe your wife, perdie we know not what's become of her: she was here a while, and because she was married grew more stately than became her, I checked her, and so forth, away she flung, never returned, nor said bih nor bah: and Rafe you know ka me, ka thee. And so as I tell ye. Roger is not Firk come yet? No forsooth. And so indeed we heard not of her, but I hear she lives in London: but let that pass. If she had wanted, she might have opened her case to me or my husband, or to any of my men, I am sure there's not any of them perdie, but would have done her good to his power. Hans look if Firk be come. Yaw it shall vro. And so as I said: but Rafe, why dost thou weep? thou knowest that naked we came out of our mother's womb, and naked we must return, and therefore thank God for all things. No faith Iane is a stranger here, but Rafe pull up a good heart, I know thou hast one, thy wife man, is in London, one told me he saw her a while ago very brave and neat, we'll ferret her out, and London hold her. Alas, poor soul, he's overcome with sorrow, he does but as I do, weep for the loss of any good thing: but Rafe, get thee in, call for some meat and drink, thou shalt find me worshipful towards thee. I thank you dame, since I want limbs and lands, I'll to God, my good friends, and to these my hands. Run good Hans, O Hodge, O mistress, Hodge. heave up thine ears, mistress smug up your looks, on with your best apparel, my master is chosen, my master is called nay condemned by the cry of the country to be sheriff of the City, for this famous year now to come: and time now being, a great many men in black gowns were asked for their voices, and their hands, and my master had all their fists about his ears presently, and they cried I, ay, ay, ay, and so I came away, wherefore without all other grieve, I do salute you mistress shrieve. Yaw, my mester is de groot man, de shrieve. Did not I tell you mistress? now I may boldly say, good morrow to your worship.
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 truly Rafe, I thanke my maker: but let that passe. And sirra Rafe, what newes, what newes in France? Tel mee good Roger first, what newes in England? Haw does my Iane? when didst thou sée my wife? Where liues my poore heart? shéel be poore indéed Now I want limbs to get whereon to féed. Limbs? hast thou not hands man? thou shalt neuer sée a shoomaker want bread, though he haue but thrée fingers on a hand. Yet all this while I heare not of my Iane. O Rafe your wife, perdie we knowe not whats become of her: she was here a while, and because she was married grewe more stately then became her, I checkt her, and so forth, away she flung, neuer returned, nor saide bih nor bah: and Rafe you knowe ka me, ka thée. And so as I tell ye. Roger is not Firke come yet? No forsooth. And so indeed we heard not of her, but I heare shée liues in London: but let that passe. If she had wanted, shee might haue opened her case to me or my husband, or to any of my men, I am sure theres not any of them perdie, but would haue done her good to his power. Hans looke if Firke be come. Yaw it sal vro. And so as I saide: but Rafe, why dost thou wéepe? thou knowest that naked wee came out of our mothers wombe, and naked we must returne, and therefore thanke God for al things. No faith Iane is a straunger héere, but Rafe pull vp a good heart, I knowe thou hast one, thy wife man, is in London, one tolde mée hée sawe her a while agoe verie braue and neate, wéele ferret her out, and London holde her. Alas, poore soule, hées ouercome with sorrowe, he does but as I doe, weepe for the losse of any good thing: but Rafe, get thee in, call for some meate and drinke, thou shalt find me worshipful towards thée. I thanke you dame, siuce I want lims and lands, Ile to God, my good friends, and to these my hands. Runne good Hans, O Hodge, O mistres, Hodge. heaue vp thine eares, mistresse smugge vp your lookes, on with your best apparell, my maister is chosen, my master is called nay condemn'd by the crie of the countrie to be shiriffe of the Citie, for this famous yeare nowe to come: and time now being, a great many men in blacke gownes were askt for their voyces, and their hands, and my master had al their fists about his eares presently, and they cried I, I, I, I, and so I came away, wherefore without all other grieue, I doe salute you mistresse shrieue. Yaw, my mester is de groot man, de shrieue. Did not I tell you mistris? nowe I may boldly say, good morrow to your worship.