The Three Laws of Nature, Moses, and Christ, Corrupted by the Sodomites, Pharisees, and Papists · chunk 6 of 30
Bale, John · published 1548 · first performed or written 1538 [revised c.1547 and 1562] (Annals) moral T26 Devils, hell and fiends typicality 0.74 · 516 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T26: devil, hell, devils, sure, soul, fiend, sr, wife, lord, men.
And are ye gone in deed? Small wyttam be your speed, Except ye take good heed, I will be next of your counsel. Now will I work soch mastery, By crafts and sutyle policy, The law of nature to poison. With pestilent idolatry, And with most stinking sodomy, That he shall have no Foison. Where are these vyllen knaves? The devils own kyd●yn slaves, That them I can not se. I conjure you both here, And charge ye to apere, Like two knaves as ye be. Ambo is a name full clean, Know ye not what I mean? And are so good a clerk. By Tetragrammaton, I charge ye, apere anon, And come out of the dark. Have in than at a dash, With swash miry annet swash, Yet may I not be to rash, For my holy order's sake. Nor I son by my troth, Cha caute a courage of sloth, And such a cumbrous couth, Ych wot not what to do. At Christmas and at Paske. ye may dance the devil a mask, whiles his great cauldron plawe. you such a prati minion. And you now in religion, Soch two I never saw. Is not thy name idolatry? Yes, an wholesome woman verily. And weal scene in philosophy, Mennys fortunes she can tell. She can by saying her ave Mary, And by other charms of sorcery, Ease men of toth ake by and bye, Yea, and fetch the devil from hell. She can milk the cow and hunt the fox, And help men of the ague and pox, So they bring money to the box, When they to her make moan. She can fatch again all that is lost, And draw drink out of a rotten post, Without the help of the holy Ghost. In working she is alone. What, sometime thu wert an he, Yea, but now ych am a she, And a good midwife per de, Young children can I charm. With whysperynges and whysshynges. With crossynges and with kissings With blasynges and with blessings, That spretes do them no harm. Then art thu like to Clisthenes, To Clodius and Euclides, Sardinapalus and Hercules, Which themselves oft transformed. Into a woman's likeness, With agility and quickness, But they had Venus' sickness, As writers have declared. let her tell fourth her matter. With holy oil and water, I can so cloyne and clarter, That I can at the latter, Many suttylters contrive. I can work wiles in battle, If I do ones but spittle, I can make corn and cattle, That they shall never thrive. When ale is in the fat, If the bruar please me nart, The east shall fall down flat. And never have any strength. No man shall ton nor bake, Nor meat in season make, If I against him take, But lose his labour at length. Their wells I can up dry, Cause trees and herbs to die. And slay all pullerye, Whereas men doth me move. I can make stoles to dance, And earthen pots to prance. That none shall them enhance, And do but cast my glove.
nodes 368–460 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 6 of 30 in this edition
Length
516 words · 726 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T26 — Devils, hell and fiendscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.736 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T23 · seed 44: T23 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And are ye gone in dede? Small wyttam be your spede, Except ye take good hede, I wyll be next of your counsell. Now wyll I worke soch masterye, By craftes and sutyle polycye, The lawe of nature to poyson. With pestylent ydolatrye, And with most stynkynge sodomye, That he shall haue no Foyson. Where are these vyllen knaues? The deuyls owne kydyn slaues, That them I can not se. I coniure yow both here, And charge ye to apere, Lyke two knaues as ye be. Ambo is a name full cleane, Knowe ye not what I meane? And are so good a clarke. By Tetragrammaton, I charge ye, apere anon, And come out of the darke. Haue in than at a dash, With swash myry annet swash, Yet maye I not be to rash, For my holy orders sake. Nor I sonne by my trouth, Cha caute a corage of slouth, And soch a comberouse couth, Ych wote not what to do. At Christmas and at Paske. ye maye daunce the deuyll a maske, Whyls hys great cawdron plawe. yow soch a prati mynyon. And yow now in relygyon, Soch two I neuer sawe. Is not thy name ydolatrye? Yes, an wholsom woman verelye. And wele seane in Phylosophye, Mennys fortunes she can tell. She can by sayenge her Aue marye, And by other charmes of sorcerye, Ease men of toth ake by and bye, Yea, and fatche the deuyll from hell. She can mylke the cowe and hunte the foxe, And helpe men of the ague and poxe, So they brynge moneye to the boxe, Whan they to her make mone. She can fatch agayne all that is lost, And drawe drynke out of a rotten post, Without the helpe of the holye Ghost. In workynge she is alone. What, sumtyme thu wert an he, Yea, but now ych am a she, And a good mydwife per de, Yonge chyldren can I charme. With whysperynges and whysshynges. With crossynges and with kyssynges With blasynges and with blessynges, That spretes do them no harme. Then art thu lyke to Clisthenes, To Clodius and Euclides, Sardinapalus and Hercules, Whych themselues oft transfourmed. Into a womannys lyckenes, With agylyte and quyckenes, But they had Venus syckenes, As writers haue declared. Lete her tell fourth her matter. With holye oyle and watter, I can so cloyne and clarter, That I can at the latter, Manye suttylters contryue. I can worke wyles in battle, If I do ones but spattle, I can make corne and cattle, That they shall neuer thryue. Whan ale is in the fatt, If the bruar please me nart, The east shall fall downe flat. And neuer haue any strength. No man shall tonne nor bake, Nor meate in season make, If I agaynst hym take, But lose hys labour at length. Their wellys I can vp drye, Cause trees and herbes to dye. And slee all pullerye, Whereas men doth me moue. I can make stoles to daunce, And carthen pottes to praunce. That non shall them enhaunce, And do but cast my gloue.