The Shoemaker's Holiday, or The Gentle Craft · chunk 21 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 T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
What mistress, never fear, I dare venture my maidenhead to nothing, and that's great odds, that Haunce the Dutchman when we come to London, shall not only see and speak with you, but in spite of all your Father's policies, steal you away and marry you, will not this please you? Do this, and ever be assured of my love. Away then and follow your father to London, left your absence cause him to suspect something: Tomorrow if my counsel be obeyed, I'll bind you prentice to the gentle trade. Yonder's the shop, and there my fair love sits, she's fair and lovely, but she is not mine, O would she were, thrice have I courted her, Thrice hath my hand been moistened with her hand, Whilst my poor famished eyes do feed on that Which made them famish: I am infortunate, I still love one, yet nobody loves me, I muse in other men what women see, That I so want? fine mistress Rose was coy, And this too curious, oh no, she is chaste, And for the thinks me wanton, she denies To cheer my cold heart with her sunny eyes: How prettily she works, oh pretty hand! Oh happy work, it doth me good to stand unseen to see her, thus I oft have stood, In frosty evenings, a light burning by her, Enduring biting cold, only to eye her, One only look hath seemed as rich to me As a king's crown, such is loves lunacy: Muffled I'll pass along, and by that try Whether she know me. Sir, what is't you buy? What is't you lack sir? calico, or lawn, Fine cambric shirts, or bands, what will you buy? That which thou wilt not sell, faith yet I'll try: How do you sell this handkercher? Good cheap. And how these ruffs? Cheap too. And how this band? Cheap too. All cheap, how sell you then this hand? My hands are not to be sold. To be given then: nay faith I come to buy. But none knows when. Good sweet, leave work a little while, let's play. I cannot live by keeping holiday. I'll pay you for the time which shall be lost. With me you shall not be at so much cost. Look how you wound this cloth, so you wound me. It may be so. 'tis so. What remedy? Nay faith you are too coy. Let go my hand. I will do any task of your command, I would let go this beauty, were I not In mind to disobey you by a power That controls kings: I love you. So, now part. With hands I may, but never with my heart, In faith I love you. I believe you do. Shall a true love in me breed hate in you? I hate you not. Then you must love. I do, what are you better now? I love not you,
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)
What mistris, neuer feare, I dare venter my maidenhead to nothing, and thats great oddes, that Haunce the Dutchman when we come to London, shal not onely sée and speake with you, but in spight of al your Fathers pollicies, steale you away and marrie you, will not this please you? Do this, and euer be assured of my loue. Away then and follow your father to London, left your absence cause him to suspect something: To morrow if my counsel be obayde, Ile binde you prentise to the gentle trade. Yonders the shop, and there my faire loue sits, Shées faire and louely, but she is not mine, O would she were, thrise haue I courted her, Thrise hath my hand béene moistned with her hand, Whilst my poore famisht eies do féed on that Which made them famish: I am infortunate, I stil loue one, yet no body loues me, I muse in other men what women sée, That I so want? fine mistris Rose was coy, And this too curious, oh no, she is chaste, And for the thinkes me wanton, she denies cheare my cold heart with her sunnie eies: How prettily she workes, oh prettie hand! Oh happie worke, it doth me good to stand to sée her, thus I oft haue stood, In frostie euenings, a light burning by her, Enduring biting cold, only to eie her, One onely looke hath séem'd as rich to me As a kings crowne, such is loues lunacie: Muffeled Ile passe along, and by that trie Whether she know me. Sir, what ist you buy? What ist you lacke sir? callico, or lawne, Fine cambricke shirts, or bands, what will you buy? That which thou wilt not sell, faith yet Ile trie: How do you sell this handkercher? Good cheape. And how these ruffes? Cheape too. And how this band? Cheape too. All cheape, how sell you then this hand? My handes are not to be solde. To be giuen then: nay faith I come to buy. But none knowes when. Good swéete, leaue worke a little while, lets play. I cannot liue by keeping holliday. Ile pay you for the time which shall be lost. With me you shall not be at so much cost. Look how you wound this cloth, so you wound me. It may be so. Tis so. What remedie? Nay faith you are too coy. Let goe my hand. I will do any task of your command, I would let goe this beautie, were I not In mind to disobey you by a power That controlles kings: I loue you. So, now part. With hands I may, but neuer with my heart, In faith I loue you. I beleeue you doe. Shall a true loue in me bréede hate in you? I hate you not. Then you must loue. I doe, what are you better now? I loue not you,