Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1598 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 539 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
O, that's well: fetch me my cloak, my cloak. Stay, let me see, an hour, to go and come; ay, that will be the least: and then 'twill be An hour, before I can dispatch with him; Or very near: well, I will say two hours. Two hours? ha? things, never dreamed of yet, May be contrived, ay, and effected too, In two hours absence: well, I will not go. Two hours; no, fleering opportunity, I will not give your subtlety that scope. Who will not judge him worthy to be robbed, That sets his doors wide open to a thief, And shows the felon, where his treasure lies? Again, what earthy spirit but will attempt To the taste fruit of beauty's golden tree, When leaden sleep seals up the dragon's eyes? I will not go. Business, go by, for once. No beauty, no; you are of too good carat, To be left so, without a guard, or open! Your lustre too'll inflame, at any distance, Draw courtship to you, as a jet doth straws, Put motion in a stone, strike fire from ice, Nay, make a porter leap you, with his burden! You must be then kept up, close, and well-watched, For, give you opportunity, no quicksand Devours, or swallows swifter! He that lends His wife (if she be fair) or time, or place; Compels her to be false. I will not go. The dangers are to many. And, then, the dressing Is a most main attractive! Our great heads, Within the city, never were in safety, Since our wives wore these little caps: I'll change 'em, I'll change 'em, straight, in mine. Mine shall no more Wear three-piled acorns, to make my horns ache. Nor, will I go. I am resolved for that. carrying my cloak again. Yet, stay. Yet, do too. I will defer going, on all occasions. Sir. SNARE, your scrivener, will be there with th'bonds. That's true! fool on me! I had clean forgot it, I must go. What's o'clock? Exchange time, sir. 'Heart, then will WELL-BRED presently be here, too, With one, or other of his loose consorts. I am a knave, if I know what to say, What course to take, or which way to resolve. My brain (methinks) is like an hourglass, Wherein, my imaginations run, like sands, Filling up time; but then are turned, and turned: So, that I know not what to stay upon, And less, to put in act. It shall be so. Nay, I dare build upon his secrecy, He knows not to deceive me. THOMAS? Sir. Yet now, I have bethought me, too, I will not. THOMAS, is COB within? I think he be, sir. But he'll prate too, there's no speech of him. No, there were no man o' the earth to THOMAS, If I durst trust him; there is all the doubt. But, should he have a chink in him, I were gone, Lost i' my fame for ever: talk for th'Exchange. The manner he hath stood with, till this present, Doth promise no such change! what should I fear then? Well, come what will, I'll tempt my fortune, once. THOMAS— you may deceive me, but, I hope— Your love, to me, is more—
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)
O, that's well: fetch me my cloke, my cloke. Stay, let me see, an houre, to goe and come; I, that will be the least: and then 'twill be An houre, before I can dispatch with him; Or very neere: well, I will say two houres. Two houres? ha? things, neuer dreamt of yet, May be contriu'd, I, and effected too, In two houres absence: well, I will not goe. Two houres; no, fleering oportunitie, I will not giue your subtiltie that scope. Who will not iudge him worthie to be rob'd▪ That sets his doores wide open to a thiefe, And shewes the fellon, where his treasure lies? Againe, what earthie spirit but will attempt To the taste fruit of beauties golden tree, When leaden sleepe seales vp the Dragons eyes? I will not goe. Businesse, goe by, for once. No beautie, no; you are of too good caract, To be left so, without a guard, or open! Your lustre too'll enflame, at any distance, Draw courtship to you, as a iet doth strawes, Put motion in a stone, strike fire from ice, Nay, make a porter leape you, with his burden! You must be then kept vp, close, and well-watch'd, For, giue you oportunitie, no quick-sand Deuoures, or swallowes swifter! He that lends His wife (if shee be faire) or time, or place; Compells her to be false. I will not goe. The dangers are to many. And, then, the dressing Is a most mayne attractiue! Our great heads, Within the citie, neuer were in safetie, Since our wiues wore these little caps: Ile change 'hem, Ile change 'hem, streight, in mine. Mine shall no more Weae three-pild akornes, to make my hornes ake. Nor, will I goe. I am resolu'd for that. Carry'in my cloke againe. Yet, stay. Yet, doe too. I wil deferre going, on all occasions. Sir. SNARE, your scriuener, will be there with th'bonds. That's true! foole on me! I had cleane forgot it, I must goe. What's a clocke? Exchange time, sir. 'Heart, then will WELL-BRED presently be here, too, With one, or other of his loose consorts. I am a knaue, if I know what to say, What course to take, or which way to resolue. My braine (me thinkes) is like an houre-glasse, Wherein, my imaginations runne, like sands, Filling vp time; but then are turn'd, and turn'd: So, that I know not what to stay vpon, And lesse, to put in act. It shall be so. Nay, I dare build vpon his secrecie, He knowes not to deceiue me. THOMAS? Sir. Yet now, I haue bethought me, too, I will not. THOMAS, is COB within? I thinke he be, sir. But hee'll prate too, there's no speech of him. No, there were no man o' the earth to THOMAS, If I durst trust him; there is all the doubt. But, should he haue a chinke in him, I were gone, Lost i' my fame for euer: talke for th'Exchange. The manner he hath stood with, till this present, Doth promise no such change! what should I feare then? Well, come what will, Ile tempt my fortune, once. THOMAS—you may deceiue me, but, I hope— Your loue, to me, is more—