Satiromastix, or The Untrussing of the Humorous Poet · chunk 19 of 44
Dekker, Thomas · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men and Children of Paul's (second) T8 Captains, gallants and cheats typicality 0.84 · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T8: captain, master, money, gentleman, little, lieutenant, rogue, pray, minos, honest.
Nay, e'en as you please Captain, it shall be at your choice. Why well said, my nimble Shorthose. I hear her, I hear her. Art angry father time? art angry because I took mother-Winter aside? I'll hold my life thou art struck with Cupid's Bird-bolt, my little prick shaft, art? dost love that mother Mumblecrust, dost thou? dost long for that whim-wham? Would I were as sure to lie with her, as to love her. Have I found thee my learned Dunce, have I found thee? If I might ha' my will, thou shouldst not put thy spoon into that bumble-broth (for indeed I'd taste her myself) no thou shouldst not; yet if her beauty blind thee, she's thine, I can do't, thou heardst her say e'en now, it should be at my choice. She did so, work the match and I'll bestow— Not a silk point upon me, little Adam she shall be thy Eve, for less than an Apple; but send, be wise, send her some token, she's greedy, she shall take it, do, send, thou shalt stick in her (Prickshaft) but fend. here's a purse of gold, think you that will be accepted? Go to, it shall be accepted, and 'twere but silver, when that Flea-bitten Shorthose steps hence: vanish too, and let me alone with my Grannam in Gutter-Lane there, and this purse of gold do, let me alone. The King, God's Lord, I do forget the King; Widow, think on my words, I must be gone To wait his rising, I'll return anon. Stay Sir Quintilian, I'll be a waiter too. Widow we'll trust that Captain there with you. Now, now, mother Bunch how dost thou? what dost frown Queen Gwyniver? dost wrinkle? what made these pair of Shittle-cocks here? what do they fumble for? I'll ha' none of these Kites fluttering about thy carks, for thou shalt be my West Indyes, and none but trim Tucca shall discover thee. Discover me? discover what thou canst of me. What I can? thou know'st what I can discover, but I will not lay thee open to the world, Lay me open to the world? No I will not my mouldy decayed Charingcross, I will not. Hang thee patch-panel, I am none a thy Charing-Cross: I scorn to be Cross to such a scab as thou mak'st thyself. No, 'tis thou mak'st me so, my Long Meg a Westminster, thou breed'st a scab, thou— I? dam thee filthy Captain, dam thyself. My little devil a Dow-gate, I'll damn thee, (thou know'st my meaning) I'll damn thee up; my wide mouth at Bishopsgate. Would I might once come to that damning. Why thou shalt, my sweet dame Annis a clear thou shalt, for I'll drown myself in thee; ay, for thy love, I'll sink, ay, for thee. So thou wilt I warrant, in thy abominable sins; Lord, Lord, how many filthy words hast thou to answer for.
Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men and Children of Paul's (second)
Genre (British Drama)
comedy
Play type
Boys Professional;Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 444 · TCP A20081 · DEEP 344
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 573–599 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 19 of 44 in this edition
Length
489 words · 710 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T8 — Captains, gallants and cheatscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.844 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T11 · seed 44: T14 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Nay, eene as you please Captaine, it shal be at your choice. Why well said, my nimble Short-hose. I heare her, I heare her. Art angry father time? art angrie because I tooke mother-Winter aside? Ile holde my life thou art strucke with Cupids Birde-bolt, my little prick shaft, art? dost loue that mother Mumble-crust, dost thou? dost long for that whim-wham? Wod I were as sure to lye with her, as to loue her. Haue I found thee my learned Dunce, haue I found thee? If I might ha my wil, thou shouldst not put thy spoone into that bumble-broth (for indeede Ide taste her my selfe) no thou shouldst not; yet if her beautie blinde thee, she's thine, I can doo't, thou heardst her say eene now, it should bee at my choice. She did so, worke the match and Ile bestow— Not a silke point vpon mee, little Adam shee shall bee thy Eeue, for lesse then an Apple; but send, bee wise, seud her some token, shee's greedie, shee shall take it, doe, send, thou shalt sticke in her (Prickeshaft) but fend. Heer's a purse of golde, thinke you that wil be accepted? Goe to, it shall bee accepted, and twere but siluer, when that Flea-bitten Short-hose steppes hence: vanish too, and let mee alone with my Grannam in Gutter-Lan there, and this purse of golde doe, let me alone. The King, gods Lord, I doe forget the King; Widdow, thinke on my wordes, I must be gone To waite his rising, Ile returne anone. Stay Sir Quintilian, Ile be a waiter too. Widdow wee'll trust that Captaine there with you. Now, now, mother Bunch how dost thou? what dost frowne Queene Gwyniuer? dost wrinckle? what made these paire of Shittle-cockes heere? what doe they fumble for? Ile ha none of these Kites flutering about thy carks, for thou shalt bee my West Indyes, and none but trim Tucca shall discouer thee. Discouer me? discouer what thou canst of me. What I can? thou knowst what I can discouer, but I will not lay thee open to the world, Lay me open to the world? No I will not my moldie decay'd Charig-crosse, I will not. Hang thee patch-pannell, I am none a thy Charing-crosse: I scorne to be Crosse to such a scab as thou makst thy selfe. No, tis thou makst me so, my Long Meg a Westminster, thou breedst a fcab, thou— I? dam thee filthie Captaine, dam thy selfe. My little deuill a Dow-gate, Ile dam thee, (thou knowst my meaning) Ile dam thee vp; my wide mouth at Bishops-gate. Wod I might once come to that damming. Why thou shalt, my sweet dame Annis a cleere thou shalt, for Ile drowne my selfe in thee; I, for thy loue, Ile sinke, I, for thee. So thou wilt I warrant, in thy abhominable sinnes; Lord, Lord, howe many filthy wordes hast thou to answere for.