Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1598 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 502 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Is a fit simile, a toy? will he be poisoned with a simile? Brother KITELY, what a strange, and idle imagination is this? For shame, be wiser. O' my soul, there's no such matter. Am I not sick? how am I, then, not poisoned? Am I not poisoned? how am I, then, so sick? If you be sick, your own thoughts make you sick. His jealousy is the poison, he has taken. Mr. KITELY, my master, justice CLEMENT, salutes you; and desires to speak with you, with all possible speed. No time, but now? when, I think, I am sick? very sick! well, I will wait upon his worship. THOMAS, COB, I must seek them out, and set 'em sentinels, till I return. THOMAS, COB, THOMAS. This is perfectly rare, Brainworm! but how got'st thou this apparel of the justices man? marry sir, my proper fine penman, would needs bestow the grist o'me, at the windmill, to hear some martial discourse; where so I marshaled him, that I made him drunk, with admiration! &, because, too much hear was the cause of his distemper, I stripped him stark naked, as he lay along asleep, and borrowed his suit, to deliver this counterfeit message in, leaving a rusty armour, and an old brown bill to watch him, till my return: which shall be, when I ha' pawned his apparel, and spent the better part o' the money, perhaps. Well, thou art a successful merry knave, Brainworm, his absence will be a good subject for more mirth. I pray thee, return to thy young master, and will him to meet me, and my sister BRIDGET, at the tower instantly: for, here, tell him, the house is so stored with jealousy, there is no room for love, to stand upright in. We must get our fortunes committed to some larger prison, say; and, than the tower, I know no better air: nor where the liberty of the house may do us more present service. Away. Come hither, THOMAS. Now, my secret's ripe, And thou shalt have it; lay to both thine ears. Hark, what I say to thee. I must go forth, THOMAS. Be careful of thy promise, keep good watch, Note every gallant, and observe him well, That enters in my absence, to thy mistress: If she would show him rooms, the jest is stale, Follow 'em, THOMAS, or else hang on him, And let him not go after; mark their looks; Note, if she offer but to see his band, Or any other amorous toy, about him; But praise his leg; or foot; or if she say, The day is hot, and bid him feel her hand, How hot it is; o, that's a monstrous thing! Note me all this, good THOMAS, mark their sighs, And, if they do but whisper, break 'em off: I'll bear thee out in it. willt thou do this? willt thou be true, my THOMAS? As truth's self, sir. Why, I believe thee: where is COB, now? COB?
seed 43: T26 · seed 44: T28 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Is a fit simile, a toy? will he be poyson'd with a simile? Brother KITELY, what a strange, and idle imagination is this? For shame, bee wiser. O' my soule, there's no such matter. Am I not sicke? how am I, then, not poyson'd? Am I not poyson'd? how am I, then, so sicke? If you be sicke, your owne thoughts make you sicke. His iealousie is the poyson, he ha's taken. Mr. KITELY, my master, Iustice CLEMENT, salutes you; and desires to speake with you, with all possible speed. No time, but now? when, I thinke, I am sicke? very sicke! well, I will wait vpon his worship. THOMAS, COB, I must seeke them out, and set 'hem sentinells, till I returne. THOMAS, COB, THOMAS. This is perfectly rare, BRAYNE-WORME! but how got'st thou this apparell of the Iustices man? Mary sir, my proper fine pen-man, would needs bestow the grist o'me, at the wind-mil, to hear some martial discourse; where so I marshal'd him, that I made him drunke, with admiration! &, because, too much hear was the cause of his distemper, I stript him starke naked, as he lay along asleepe, and borrowed his sute, to deliuer this counterfeit message in, leauing a rustie armor, and an old browne bill to watch him, till my returne: which shall be, when I ha' pawn'd his apparell, and spent the better part o' the money, perhaps. Well, thou art a successefull merry knaue, BRAYNE-WORME, his absence will be a good subiect for more mirth. I pray thee, returne to thy yong master, and will him to meet me, and my sister BRIDGET, at the tower instantly: for, here, tell him, the house is so stor'd with iealousie, there is no roome for loue, to stand vpright in. We must get our fortunes committed to some larger prison, say; and, then the tower, I know no better aire: nor where the libertie of the house may doe vs more present seruice. Away. Come hether, THOMAS. Now, my secret's ripe, And thou shalt haue it; lay to both thine eares. Harke, what I say to thee. I must goe forth, THOMAS. Be carefull of thy promise, keepe good watch, Note euery gallant, and obserue him well, That enters in my absence, to thy mistris: If shee would shew him roomes, the iest is stale, Follow 'hem, THOMAS, or else hang on him, And let him not goe after; marke their lookes; Note, if shee offer but to see his band, Or any other amorous toy, about him; But praise his legge; or foot; or if shee say, The day is hot, and bid him feele her hand, How hot it is; ô, that's a monstrous thing! Note me all this, good THOMAS, marke their sighes, And, if they doe but whisper, breake 'hem off: Ile beare thee out in it. Wilt thou doe this? Wilt thou be true, my THOMAS? As truth's selfe, sir. Why, I beleeue thee: where is COB, now? COB?