The Shoemaker's Holiday, or The Gentle Craft · chunk 23 of 38
Dekker, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [Jul 15, payment] (Annals) comedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men · before the Court T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.76 · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
'tis now no time for me to think on love, 'tis now best time for you to think on love, because your love lives not. Though he be dead, my love to him shall not be buried: For God's sake leave me to myself alone. I would kill my soul to leave thee drowned in moan: Answer me to my suit, and I am gone, Say to me, yea, or no. No. Then farewell, one farewell will not serve, I come again, come dry these wet cheeks, tell me faith sweet Iane, yea, or no, once more. Once more I say no, once more be gone I pray, else will I go. Nay then I will grow rude by this white hand, Until you change that cold no, here i'll stand, Till by your hard heart Nay, for God's love peace, My sorrows by your presence more increase, Not that you thus are present, but all grief Desires to be alone, therefore in brief Thus much I say, and saying bid adieu, If ever I wed man it shall be you. Oh blessed voice, dear Iane I'll urge no more, Thy breath hath made me rich. Death makes me poor. hay down, a down, down derie. Well said my hearts, ply your work today, we loitered yesterday, to it pell-mell, that we may live to be Lord Majors, or Aldermen at least. hay down a down derie. Well said i'faith, how sayst thou Hauns, doth not Firk tickle it? Yaw mester. Not so neither, my organ pipe squeaks this morning for want of liquoring: heigh down a down derie. Forward Firk, tow best unjolly youngster hott I mester it bid you cut me vn pair vāpres vor mester Jeffer's boots. Thou shalt Haims. Master. How now, boy? Pray, now you are in the cutting vain, cut me out a pair of counterfeits, or else my work will not pass currant, heigh down a down. Tell me sirs, are my cousin M. Priscilla's shoes done? Your cousin? no master, one of your aunts, hang her, let them alone. I am in hand with them, she gave charge that none but I should do them for her. Thou do for her? then that she loues not: Rafe, thou n in faith I would haue yearkt and downe a downe derry, this géere w How sayst thou Firk? were 〈...〉 Ford? How merry? why our buttocks went jiggy ioggy like a quagmire: well sir Roger Oatemeale, if I thought all meal of that nature, I would eat nothing but bag puddings. Of all good fortunes, my fellow Hance had the best. 'tis true, because mistress Rose drank to him. Well, well, work apace, they say seven of the Aldermen be dead, or very sick. I care not, I'll be none. No nor I, but then my M. Eyre will come quickly to be L. Mayor. Whoop, yonder comes Sibyl.
nodes 906–950 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 23 of 38 in this edition
Length
486 words · 684 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.756 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Tis now no time for me to thinke on loue, Tis now best time for you to thinke on loue, because your loue liues not. Thogh he be dead, my loue to him shal not be buried: For Gods sake leaue me to my selfe alone. I would kil my soule to leaue thée drownd in mone: Answere me to my sute, and I am gone, Say to me, yea, or no. No. Then farewell, one farewel wil not serue, I come again, come drie these wet chéekes, tel me faith sweete Iane, yea, or no, once more. Once more I say no, once more be gone I pray, else wil I goe. Nay then I wil grow rude by this white hand, Until you change that colde no, here ile stand, Til by your hard heart Nay, for Gods loue peace, My sorrowes by your presence more increase, Not that you thus are present, but al griefe Desires to be alone, therefore in briefe Thus much I say, and saying bid adew, If euer I wed man it shall be you. Oh blessed voyce, deare Iane Ile vrge no more, Thy breath hath made me rich. Death makes me poore. Hey downe, a downe, downe derie. Well said my hearts, plie your worke to day, we loytred yesterday, to it pell mel, that we may liue to be Lord Maiors, or Aldermen at least. Hey downe a downe derie. Well said yfaith, how saist thou Hauns, doth not Firke tickle it? Yaw mester. Not so neither, my organe pipe squeakes this morning for want of licoring: hey downe a downe derie. Forward Firk, tow best vn iolly yongster hort I mester it bid yo cut me vn pair vāpres vor mester ieffres bootes. Thou shalt Haims. Master. How now, boy? Pray, now you are in the cutting vaine, cut mée out a paire of counterfeits, or else my worke will not passe currant, hey downe a downe. Tell me sirs, are my coosin M. Priscillaes shooes done? Your coosin? no maister, one of your auntes, hang her, let them alone. I am in hand with them, she gaue charge that none but I should doe them for her. Thou do for her? then that she loues not: Rafe, thou n in faith I would haue yearkt and downe a downe derry, this géere w How saist thou Firke? were Ford? How merry? why our buttockes went Iiggy ioggy like a quagmyre: wel sir Roger Oatemeale, if I thought all meale of that nature, I would eate nothing but bag puddings. Of all good fortunes, my fellow Hance had the best. Tis true, because mistris Rose dranke to him. Wel, wel, worke apace, they say seuen of the Aldermen be dead, or very sicke. I care not, Ile be none. No nor I, but then my M. Eyre will come quickly to be L. Mayor. Whoop, yonder comes Sibil.