The Shoemaker's Holiday, or The Gentle Craft · chunk 27 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 · 476 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
Oh Lord, help for God's sake, my mistress, oh my young mistress. Where is thy mistress? what's become of her? she's gone, she's fled. Gone? whither is she fled? I know not forsooth, she's fled out of doors with Hauns the Shoemaker, I saw them scud, scud, scud, apace, apace. Which way? what Iohn, where be my men? which way? I know not, and it please your worship. Fled with a shoemaker, can this be true? Oh Lord sir, as true as Gods in heaven. Her love turned shoemaker? I am glad of this. A fleming butter bore, a shoemaker, Will she forget her birth? requite my care With such ingratitude? scorned she young Hammon, To love a honnikin, a needy knave? Well let her fly, I'll not fly after her, Let her starve if she will, she's none of mine. Be not so cruel sir. I am glad she's scaped. I'll not account of her as of my child: Was there no better object for her eyes, But a foul drunken lubber, swill belly, A shoemaker, that's brave. Yea forsooth, 'tis a very brave shoe, and as fit as a padding. How now, what knave is this, from whence comest thou? No knave sir, I am Firke the shoemaker, lusty Roger's chief lusty journeyman, and I come hither to take up the pretty leg of sweet mistress Rose, and thus hoping your worship is in as good health as I was at the making hereof, I bid you farewell, yours Firk. Stay stay sir knave. Come hither shoemaker. 'tis happy the knave is put before the shoemaker, or else I would not have vouchsafed to come back to you, I am moved, for I stir. My Lord, this villain calls us knaves by craft. Then 'tis by the Gentle Craft, and to call one knave gently, is no harm: sit your worship merry: Sib your young mistress I'll so bob then, now my master M. Eyre is Lord Maior of London. Tell me sirrah, who's man are you? I am glad to see your worship so merry, I have no maw to this gear, no stomach as yet to a red petticoat. He means not sir to woo you to his maid, But only doth demand whose man you are. I sing now to the tune of Rogero, Roger my fellow is now my master. Sirrah, know'st thou one Hauns a shoemaker? Hauns shoemaker, oh yes, stay, yes I have him, I tell you what, I speak it in secret, mistress Rose, and he are by this time: no not so, but shortly are to come over one another with, Can you dance the shaking of the sheeets? it is that Hauns, I'll so gull these diggers. know'st thou then where he is? Yes forsooth, yea marry. Canst thou in sadness? No forsooth, no marry.
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)
Oh Lord, help for Gods sake, my mistris, oh my yong mistris. Where is thy mistris? whats become of her? Shées gone, shées fled. Gone? whither is she fled? I know not forsooth, shées fled out of doores with Hauns the Shoomaker, I saw them scud, scud, scud, apace, apace. Which way? what Iohn, where be my men? which way? I know not, and it please your worship. Fled with a shoomaker, can this be true? Oh Lord sir, as true as Gods in heauen. Her loue turnd shoomaker? I am glad of this. A fleming butter bore, a shoomaker, Will she forget her birth? requite my care With such ingratitude? skornd she yong Hammon, To loue a honnikin, a néedie knaue? Wel let her flie, Ile not flie after her, Let her starue if she wil, shées none of mine. Be not so cruell sir. I am glad shées scapt. Ile not account of her as of my child: Was there no better obiect for her eies, But a foule drunken lubber, swill bellie, A shoomaker, thats braue. Yea forsooth, tis a very braue shooe, and as fit as a padding. How now, what knaue is this, from whence commest thou? No knaue sir, I am Firke the shoomaker, lusty Rogers cheefe lustie iorneyman, and I come hither to take vp the prettie legge of sweete mistris Rose, and thus hoping your worshippe is in as good health as I was at the making hereof, I bid you farewell, yours Firke. Stay stay sir knaue. Come hither shoomaker. Tis happie the knaue is put before the shoomaker, or else I would not haue vouchsafed to come backe to you, I am moued, for I stirre. My Lorde, this villaine calles vs knaues by craft. Then tis by the Gentle Craft, and to cal one knaue gently, is no harme: sit your worship merie: Sib your yong mistris Ile so bob then, now my maister M. Eyre is Lorde Maior of London. Tell me sirra, whoes man are you? I am glad to see your worship so merrie, I haue no maw to this geere, no stomacke as yet to a red peticote. He means not sir to wooe you to his maid, But onely doth demand whose man you are. I sing now to the tune of Rogero▪ Roger my felow is now my master. Sirra, knowst thou one Hauns a shoomaker? Hauns shoomaker, oh yes, stay, yes I haue him, I tel you what, I speake it in secret, mistris Rose, and he are by this time: no not so, but shortly are to come ouer one another with, Can you dance the shaking of the shéetes? it is that Hauns, Ile so gull these diggers. Knowst thou then where he is? Yes forsooth, yea marry. Canst thou in sadnesse? No forsooth, no marrie.