The Shoemaker's Holiday, or The Gentle Craft · chunk 32 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 T27 Uncles, nephews and cousins: kinship and · 498 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T27: uncle, niece, nephew, gentlemen, faith, cousin, wife, house, gentleman, money.
A shoemaker sell his flesh and blood, oh indignity! Sirrah, take up your pelf, and be packing. I will not touch one penny, but in lieu Of that great wrong I offered thy Iane, To Iane and thee I give that twenty pound, Since I have failed of her, during my life I vow no woman else shall be my wife: Farewell good fellows of the Gentle trade, Your morning's mirth my mourning day hath made. Touch the gold creature if you dare, you're best be trudging: here Iane take thou it, now lets home my hearts. Stay, who comes here? Iane, on again with thy mask. Yonder's the lying varlet mocked us so. Come hither sirrah. ay sir, I am sirrah, you mean me, do you not? Where is my Nephew married? Is he married? God give him joy, I am glad of it: they have a fair day, and the sign is in a good planet, Mars in Venus. Villain, thou toldst, me that my daughter Rose, This morning should be married at Saint faiths, We have watched there these three hours at the least, Yet see we no such thing. Truly I am sorry for't, a Bride's a pretty thing. Come to the purpose, yonder's the Bride and Bridegroom you look for I hope: though you be Lords, you are not to bar, by your authority, men from women, are you? See see my daughters masked. True, and my Nephew. To hide his guilt, counterfeits him lame. Yea truly god help the poor couple, they are lame and blind. I'll ease her blindness. I'll his lameness cure. Lie down sirs, and laugh, my fellow Rafe is taken for Rowland Lacy, and Iane for mistress damask rose, this is all my knavery. What, have I found you minion? O base wretch, Nay hide thy face, the horror of thy guilt, Can hardly be washed off: where are thy powers? What vattels have you made? O yes I see Thou foughtst with Shame, and shame hath conquered thee. This lameness will not serve. Unmask yourself. Lead home your daughter. Take your Nephew hence. Hence, 'swounds, what mean you? are you mad? I hope you cannot enforce my wife from me, where's Hamon? Your wife. What Hammon? Yea my wife, and therefore the proudest of you that lays hands on her first, I'll lay my crutch cross his pate. To him lame Rafe, here's brave sport. Rose call you her? why her name is Iane, look here else, do you know her now? Is this your daughter? No, nor this your nephew: My Lord of Lincoln, we are both abused By this base crafty varlet. Yea forsooth no varlet, forsooth no base, forsooth I am but mean, no crattie neither, but of the Gentle Craft. Where is my daughter Rose? where is my child? Where is my nephew Lacie married? Why here is good laid mutton as I promised you. Villain, I'll have thee punished for this wrong.
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)
A shoomaker sell his flesh and bloud, oh indignitie! Sirra, take vp your pelfe, and be packing. I will not touch one pennie, but in liew Of that great wrong I offered thy Iane, To Iane and thée I giue that twentie pound, Since I haue faild of her, during my life I vow no woman else shall be my wife: Farewell good fellowes of the Gentle trade, Your mornings mirth my mourning day hath made. Touch the gold creature if you dare, ya're best be trudging: here Iane take thou it, now lets home my hearts. Stay, who comes here? Iane, on againe with thy maske. Yonders the lying varlet mockt vs so. Come hither sirra. I sir, I am sirra, you meane me, do you not? Where is my Nephew married? Is he married? God giue him ioy, I am glad of it: they haue a faire day, and the signe is in a good planet, Mars in Venus. Villaine, thou toldst, me that my daughter Rose, This morning should be married at Saint Faithes, We haue watcht there these thrée houres at the least, Yet sée we no such thing. Truly I am sorie for't, a Bride's a prettie thing. Come to the purpose, yonder's the Bride and Bridegroome you looke for I hope: though you be Lordes, you are not to barre, by your authoritie, men from women, are you? Sée sée my daughters maskt. True, and my Nephew. To hide his guilt, counterfeits him lame. Yea truely god helpe the poore couple, they are lame and blind. Ile ease her blindnes. Ile his lamenes cure. Lie downe sirs, and laugh, my felow Rafe is taken for Rowland Lacy, and Iane for mistris damaske rose, this is al my knauery. What, haue I found you minion? O base wretch, Nay hide thy face, the horror of thy guilt, Can hardly be washt off: where are thy powers? What vattels haue you made? O yes I see Thou foughtst with Shame, and shame hath conquerd thée. This lamenesse wil not serue. Unmaske your selfe. Leade home your daughter. Take your Nephew hence. Hence, swounds, what meane you? are you mad? I hope you cannot inforce my wife from me, wheres Hamon? Your wife. What Hammon? Yea my wife, and therfore the prowdest of you that laies hands on her first, Ile lay my crutch crosse his pate. To him lame Rafe, heres braue sport. Rose call you her? why her name is Iane, looke here else, do you know her now? Is this your daughter? No, nor this your nephew: My Lord of Lincolne, we are both abusde By this base craftie varlet. Yea forsooth no varlet, forsooth no base, forsooth I am but meane, no crattie neither, but of the Gentle Craft. Where is my daughter Rose? where is my child? Where is my nephew Lacie married? Why here is good laide mutton as I promist you. Villaine, Ile haue thée punisht for this wrong.