S., W. · published 1613 · 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 · 492 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.
Come hither sirrah: stay, what men are these? My honest Host of Hounslow, and his wife: I own thee money father, do I not? I by the body of me doest thou, would thou wouldst pay me, good four pound it is, I have a the post at home. I know 'tis true, sirrah give him ten Angels, And look your wife, and you do stay to dinner: And while you live I freely give to you, Four pound a year, for the sour pound I ought you. Art not changed, art old Tom still? Now God bless the good Lord Tom: Home Ioane, home, i'll dine with my Lord Tom to day, And thou shalt come next week, Fetch my Cow, home Ioane, home. Now God bless thee, my good Lord Tom, I'll fetch my Cow presently. Sirrah, go to yond stranger, tell him I desire him Stay to dinner: I must speak with him; My Lord of Norfolk see you this same bubble? That same puff, but mark the end, my Lord, mark the end. I promise you, I like not something he hath done, But let that pass, the King doth love him well. Good morrow to my Lord of Winchester. I know you bear me hard, about the Abbey lands. Have I not reason, when religion is wronged? You had no colour for what you have done. Yes the abolishing of Antichrist, And of his Popish order from our Realm: I am no enemy to religion, But what is done, it is for England's good, What did they serve for but to feed a sort: Of lazy Abbots, and of full fed Friars, They neither plough, nor sow, and yet they reap The fat of all the Land, and suck the poor: Look what was theirs, is in King Henry's hands, His wealth before lay in the Abbey lands. Indeed these things you have alleged my Lord, When God doth know the infant yet unborn, Will curse the time, the Abbeys were pulled down, I pray now where is hospitality? Where now may poor distressed people go For to relieve their need, or rest their bones, When weary travel doth oppress their limbs? And where religious men should take them in. Shall now be kept back with a Mastiff dog, And thousand thousand. O my Lord no more▪ things past redress 'tis bootless to complain. What shall we to the Convocation house. we'll follow you my Lord pray lead the way. How, one Cromwell made Lord keeper since I left Putney And dwelled in Yorkshire? I never heard better news: I'll see that Cromwell, or it shall go hard. My aged father: state set aside. Father on my knee I crave your blessing: One of my servants go and have him in, At better leisure will we talk with him. Now if I die, how happy were the day, To see this comfort rains forth showers of joy.
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 hether ſirrah: ſtay, what men are theſe? My honeſt Hoſt of Hounſlow, and his wife: I owe thee mony father, doe I not? I by the body of mee dooeſt thou, vvould thou wouldeſt pay mee, good foure pound it is, I haue a the poſte at home. I know tis true, ſirrah giue him ten Angels, And looke your wife, and you doe ſtay to dinner: And while you liue I freely giue to you, Foure pound a yeere, for the ſoure pound I ought you. Art not changed, art ould Tom ſtill? Now God bleſſe the good Lord Tom: Home Ioane, home, ile dine with my Lord Tom to day, And thou ſhalt come next weeke, Fetch my Cow, home Ioane, home. Now God bleſſe thee, my good Lord Tom, Ile fetch my Cow preſently. Sirra, goe to yon ſtranger, tell him I deſire him Stay to dinner: I muſt ſpeake with him; My Lord of Norfolke ſee you this ſame bubble? That ſame puffe, but marke the end, my Lord, marke the end. I promiſe you, I like not ſomething he hath done, But let that paſſe, the King doth loue him well. Good morrow to my Lord of Wincheſter. I know you beare me hard, about the Abby lands. Haue I not reaſon, when religion is wronged? You had no colour for what you haue done. Yes the aboliſhing of Antichriſt, And of his Popiſh order from our Realme: I am no enemy to religion, But what is done, it is for Englands good, What did they ſerue for but to feede a ſort: Of lazie Abbots, and of full fed Fryers, They neither plow, nor ſowe, and yet they reape The fat of all the Land, and ſucke the poore: Looke what was theirs, is in King Henries hands, His wealth before lay in the Abby lands. Indeede theſe things you haue aledg'd my Lord, When God doth know the infant yet vnborne, Will curſe the time, the Abbies were puld downe, I pray now where is hoſpitality? Where now may poore diſtreſſed people goe For to releeue their neede, or reſt their bones, When weary trauell doth oppreſſe their limmes? And where religious men ſhould take them in. Shall now be kept backe with a Maſtiue dogge, And thouſand thouſand. O my Lord no more▪ things paſt redreſſe Tis booteleſſe to complaine. What ſhall we to the Conuocation houſe. Weele follow you my Lord pray leade the way. How, one Cromwell made Lord keeper ſince I left Putney And dwelt in Yorkeſhire? I neuer hard better newes: Ile ſee that Cromwell, or it ſhall goe hard. My aged father: ſtate ſet aſide. Father on my knee I craue your bleſſing: One of my ſeruants goe and haue him in, At better leaſure will we talke with him. Now if I die, how happy were the day, To ſee this comfort raines forth ſhowers of ioy.