Blurt, Master Constable, or The Spaniard's Night Walk · chunk 14 of 34
Anonymous · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 [1601-1602] (Annals) romance · Children of Paul's (second) T62 The courtier as a type: fashion, affecta typicality 0.82 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T62: courtier, shrug, face, court, italian, monsieur, scholar, fashion, french, courtiers.
Then knave knock there still. wilt open door? Yes when I list I will. here's money. Much: here's gold. Away: Knave open. Call to our maids, God night, we are all a slopen. Mistress, if you have ever a Pinnace to set out, you may now have it manned and rigged; for signor Curvetto, he that cries, I am an old Courtier, but lie close, lie close, when our Maids swear he lies as wide as any Courtier in Italy. Do we care how he lies? Anon, anon, anon, this old hoary red dear, serves himself in at your keyhole. What Frisco? Hark, shall he enter the breach? Fie, fie, fie, I wonder what this gurnet's head makes here: yet bring him in, he will serve for picking meat; let Music play, for I will feign myself to be asleep. Three pence, and here's a teston, yet take all, Coming to jump, we must be prodigal: Hem, I am an old Courtier, and I can lie close; Put up Frisco, put up, put, up, put up. Any thing at your hands sir, I will put up, because you seldom pull out any thing. Softly sweet signor Curvetto, for she's fast. Ha, fast? my Roba fast? and but young night: she's wearied, wearied, ah ha, hit I right? How sir, wearied? marry foh. Wearied Sir? mary muff. No words, here mouse, no words, no words sweet rose, I am an hoary Courtier, & lie close, lie close, hem: An old hoary Courtier? why so has a jowl of Ling, and a musty Whiting been (time out of mind) methinks signor, you should not be so old by your face: I have a good heart knave; and a good heart Is a good face-maker, I am young, quick, brisk, I was a Reveller in a long stock; (There's not a gallant now fills such a stock) Plump hose, pained, stuffed with hair (hair then was held The lightest stuffing) a fair Codpiece: hoh, An eel-skin sleeve, lashed here and there with lace, High collar, lashed again: breech lashed also: A little simpering ruff, a dapper Cloak, With Spanish buttoned Cape: my Rapier here, Gloves like a Burgomaster here; hat here, (Stuck with some ten-groat brooch:) and over all, A goodly, long thick, Abram-coloured beard; Ho God, Ho God, thus did I Revel it. When monsieur Mot lay here Ambassador. But now those beards are gone, our Chins are bare; Our Corters now do all against the hair. I can lie close and see this, but not see, I am hoary, but not hoary as some be. hay ho; who's that? signor Curvetto? by my virginity— Hem, no more, Swear not so deep at this years, men have eyes, And though the most are fools, some fools are wise. Fie, fie, fie, and you meet me thus at half weapon, one must down. She for my life. somebody shall pay for't. He for my head.
seed 43: T60 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Then knaue knocke there still. Wut open doore? Yes when I list I will. Heer's money. Much: Heer's golde. Away: Knaue open. Call to our maides, God night, we are all a slopen. Mistris, if you haue euer a Pinnace to set out, you may now haue it man'd and ryg'd; for Signior Curuetto, he that cryes, I am an old Courtier, but lye close, lye close, when our Maides sweare hee lyes as wide as any Courtier in Italy. Doe we care how he lyes? Anon, anon, anon, this old hoarie red Deare, serues himselfe in at your key-hole. What Frisco? Harke, shall he enter the breach? Fye, fie, fie, I wonder what this Gurnets head makes heere: yet bring him in, he will serue for picking meate; let Musicke play, for I will feyne my selfe to be a sleepe. Three pence, and heere's a teston, yet take all, Comming to Iumpe, we must be prodigall: Hem, I am an olde Courtier, and I can lye close; Put vp Frisco, put vp, put, vp, put vp. Any thing at your hands sir, I will put vp, because you sildome pull out any thing. Softlie sweet Signior Curuetto, for shee's fast. Ha, fast? my Roba fast? and but young night: Shee's wearied, wearied, ah ha, hit I right? How sir, wearied? marie foh. Wearied Sir? mary muffe. No words, heere mouse, no words, no words sweet rose, I am an hoarie Courtier, & lye close, lye close, hem: An olde hoarie Courtier? why so has a Iowle of Ling, and a mustie Whiting bin (time out of minde) me thinkes Signior, you should not be so olde by your face: I haue a good heart knaue; and a good heart Is a good face-maker, I am young, quicke, briske, I was a Reueller in a long stocke; (There's not a gallant now filles such a stocke) Plumpe hose, pain'd, stuft with haire (haire then was held The lightest stuffing) a faire Cod-peece: hoh, An Eele-skin sleeue, lasht heere and there with lace, Hye coller, lasht agen: breeche lasht also: A little simpring ruffe, a dapper Cloake, With Spanish button'd Cape: my Rapier heere, Gloues like a Burgomaster heere; hat heere, (Stucke with some ten-groate brooch:) and ouer al, A goodlie, long thicke, Abram-colour'd beard; Ho God, Ho God, thus did I Reuell it. When Mousieur Mot lay heere Embassador. But now those beards are gone, our Chinnes are bare; Our Corters now doe all against the haire. I can lye close and see this, but not see, I am hoarie, but not hoarie as some be. Hey ho; who's that? Signior Curuetto? by my virginity— Hem, no more, Sweare not so deepe at this yeares, men haue eyes, And though the most are fooles, some fooles are wise. Fie, fie, fie, and you meete mee thus at halfe weapon, one must downe. She for my life. Some bodie shall pay for't. He for my head.