S., W. · published 1602 · first performed or written 1600 [c.1599-1602] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
COme masters, I think it be past five o'clock, Is it not time we were at work: My old Master he'll be stirring anon. I cannot tell whether my old master will be stirring or no: but I am sure I can hardly take my afternoons nap, for my young Master Thomas, He keeps such a coil in his study, With the Sun, and the Moon, and the seven stars, That I do verily think he'll read out his wits. He skill of the stars, there's goodman Car of Fulham, He that carried us to the strong Ale, where goody Trundell Had her maid got with child: O he knows the Stars, he'll tickle you Charles' Wain in nine degrees, That same man will tell you goody Trundell, When her Ale shall miscarry, only by the stars. ay that's a great virtue, indeed I think Thomas Be nobody in comparison to him. Well masters come, shall we to our hammers? I content, first let's take our morning's draft, And then to work roundly. I agreed, go in Hodge. Good morrow morn, I do salute thy brightness, The night seems tedious to my troubled soul: Whose black obscurity binds in my mind, A thousand sundry cogitations: And now Aurora with a lively die, Adds comfort to my spirit that mounts on high. Too high indeed, my state being so mean, My study like a mineral of gold: Makes my heart proud wherein my hope's enrolled, My books is all the wealth I do possess, And unto them I have engaged my heart, O learning how divine thou seems to me: Within whose arms is all felicity, Peace with your hammers leave your knocking there, You do disturb my study and my rest, Leave off I say, you mad me with the noise. Why how now Master Thomas how now, Will you not let us work for you. You fret my heart, with making of this noise. How fret your heart, ay but Thomas, you'll Fret your father's purse if you let us from working. ay this 'tis for him to make him a gentleman, Shall we leave work for your musing, that's well i'faith, But here comes my old master now. You idle knaves, what are you loitering now, No hammers walking and my work to do: What not a heat among your work today. Marry sir your son Thomas will not let us work at all, Why knave I say, have I thus carked & cared And all to keep thee like a gentleman, And dost thou let my servants at their work: That sweat for thee knave, labour thus for thee, Father their hammers do offend my study. Out of my doors knave if thou likest it not, I cry you mercy is your ears so fine: I tell thee knave these get when I do sleep, I will not have my Anvil stand for thee. There's money father I will pay your men.
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)
COme masters, I thinke it be past fiue a clock, Is it not time we were at worke: My old Master heele be stirring anon. I cannot tell whether my old master will be stirring or no: but I am sure I can hardly take my afternoones nap, for my young Maister Thomas, He keepes such a quile in his studie, With the Sunne, and the Moone, and the seauen starres, That I do verily thinke heele read out his wits. He skill of the starres, theres goodman Car of Fulhum, He that carryed vs to the strong Ale, where goodie Trundell Had her maide got with childe: O he knowes the Starres, Heele tickle you Charles Waine in nine degrees, That same man will tell you goodie Trundell, When her Ale shall miscarie, onely by the starres. I thats a great vertue, indeed I thinke Thomas Be nobody in comparison to him. Well maisters come, shall we to our hammers? I content, first lets take our mornings draught, And then to worke roundly. I agreed, goe in Hodge. Good morrow morne, I doe salute thy brightnesse, The night seemes tedious to my troubled soule: Whose black obscuritie binds in my minde, A thousand sundry cogitations: And now Aurora with a liuely dye, Addes comfort to my spirit that mountes on high. Too high indeede, my state being so meane, My study like a minerall of golde: Makes my hart proude wherein my hopes inrowld, My bookes is all the wealth I do possesse, And vnto them I haue ingaged my hart, O learning how deuine thou seemes to me: Within whose armes is all felicity, Peace with your hammers leaue your knocking there, You doe disturbe my study and my rest, Leaue off I say, you madde me with the noyse. Why how now Maister Thomas how now, Will you not let vs worke for you. You fret my hart, with making of this noise. How fret your hart, I but Thomas, youle Fret your fathers purse if you let vs from working. I this tis for him to make him a gentleman, Shal we leaue worke for your musing, thats well I faith, But here comes my olde maister now. You idle knaues, what are you loytring now, No hammers walking and my worke to do: What not a heate among your worke to day. Marrie sir your sonne Thomas will not let vs worke at all, Why knaue I say, haue I thus carkde & car'd And all to keepe thee like a gentleman, And dost thou let my seruants at their worke: That sweat for thee knaue, labour thus for thee, Father their hammers doe offend my studie. Out of my doores knaue if thou likest it not, I crie you mercie is your eares so fine: I tell thee knaue these get when I doe sleepe, I will not haue my Anuill stand for thee. Theres monie father I will pay your men.