Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1601 [1600-1601] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at Graue-making? Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. 'Tis e'en so; the hand of little Employment hath the daintier sense. But Age with his stealing steps hath caught me in his clutch: And hath shipped me until the Land, as if I had never been such. That Scull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the knave jowls it to th' ground as if it were Cain's jawbone, that did the first murder: It might be the Pate of a Politician which this Ass o'er Offices: one that could circumvent God, might it not? It might, my Lord. Or of a Courtier, which could say, Good Morrow sweet Lord: how dost thou, good Lord? this might be my Lord such a one, that praised my Lord such a ones Horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not? I, my Lord. Why e'en so: and now my Lady Worms, Chaplesse, and knocked about the Mazzard with a Sexton's Spade; here's fine Revolution, if we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at Loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't. A Pickhaxe and a Spade, a Spade, for and a shrowding-Sheete: O a Pit of Clay for to be made, for such a Guest is meet. There's another: why might not that be the Scull of of a Lawyer? where be his Quiddits now? his Quillets? his Cases? his Tenors, and his Tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the Sconce with a dirty Shovell, and will not tell him of his Action of Battery? hum. This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of Land, with his Statutes, his Recognizances, his Fines, his double Vouchers, his Recoveries: Is this the fine of his Fines, and the recovery of his Recoveries, to have his fine Pate full of fine Dirt? will his Vouchers vouch him no more of his Purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of Indentures? the very Conveyances of his Lands will hardly lie in this Box; and must the Inheritor himself have no more? ha'? Not a jot more, my Lord. Is not Parchment made of Sheep-skinnes? I my Lord, and of Calue-skinnes too. They are Sheep and Calves that seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow: whose Graue's this Sir? Mine Sir: O a Pit of Clay for to be made, for such a Guest is meet. I think it be thine indeed: for thou liest in't. You lie out on't Sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I do not lie in't; and yet it is mine. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say 'tis thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quick, therefore thou liest. 'Tis a quick lie Sir, 'twill a way again from me to you.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T41 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Ha's this fellow no feeling of his buſineſſe, that he ſings at Graue-making? Cuſtome hath made it in him a property of eaſineſſe. 'Tis ee'n ſo; the hand of little Imployment hath the daintier ſenſe. But Age with his ſtealing ſteps hath caught me in his clutch: And hath ſhipped me intill the Land, as if I had neuer beene ſuch. That Scull had a tongue in it, and could ſing once: how the knaue iowles it to th' grownd as if it were Caines Iaw-bone, that did the firſt murther: It might be the Pate of a Polititian which this Aſſe o're Offices: one that could circumuent God, might it not? It might, my Lord. Or of a Courtier, which could ſay, Good Morrow ſweet Lord: how doſt thou, good Lord? this might be my Lord ſuch a one, that prais'd my Lord ſuch a ones Horſe, when he meant to begge it; might it not? I, my Lord. Why ee'n ſo: and now my Lady Wormes, Chapleſſe, and knockt about the Mazard with a Sextons Spade; heere's fine Reuolution, if wee had the tricke to ſee't. Did theſe bones coſt no more the breeding▪ but to play at Loggets with 'em? mine ake to thinke on't. A Pickhaxe and a Spade, a Spade, for and a ſhrowding-Sheete: O a Pit of Clay for to be made, for ſuch a Gueſt is meete. There's another: why might not that bee the Scull of of a Lawyer? where be his Quiddits now? his Quillets? his Caſes? his Tenures, and his Tricks? why doe's he ſuffer this rude knaue now to knocke him about the Sconce with a dirty Shouell, and will not tell him of his Action of Battery? hum. This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of Land, with his Statutes, his Recognizances, his Fines, his double Vouchers, his Recoueries: Is this the fine of his Fines, and the recouery of his Recoueries, to haue his fine Pate full of fine Dirt? will his Vouchers vouch him no more of his Purchaſes, and double ones too, then the length and breadth of a paire of Indentures? the very Conueyances of his Lands will hardly lye in this Boxe; and muſt the Inheritor himſelfe haue no more? ha? Not a iot more, my Lord. Is not Parchment made of Sheep-skinnes? I my Lord, and of Calue-skinnes too. They are Sheepe and Calues that ſeek out aſſurance in that. I will ſpeake to this fellow: whoſe Graue's this Sir? Mine Sir: O a Pit of Clay for to be made, for ſuch a Gueſt is meete. I thinke it be thine indeed: for thou lieſt in't. You lye out on't Sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I doe not lye in't; and yet it is mine. Thou doſt lye in't, to be in't and ſay 'tis thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quicke, therefore thou lyeſt. 'Tis a quicke lye Sir, 'twill a way againe from me to you.