Dekker, Thomas / Chettle, Henry / Haughton, William · published 1603 · first performed or written 1600 [Oct 16-Dec 29, payment] (Annals) comedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
What's here lathes? where's the lime & hair Emulo, Oh rare, is this to save his shins? Ha, ha, Rice go call Gwenthyan, I will master dahoma, Gwenthyan dahoma? A pogs on her go sedge her and call her within I am gone sir. Nay sir Owen what mean you? By Cod is mean ta let Gwenthyan see what booby fool love her, a pogs on you. Sir Owen and Signiors both, do not expatiate my obloquy, my love shall be so fast conglutinated to you. cod's plud, you call her gluttons, Gwenthyan, so ho Gwenthyan? I'll not digest this pill, Signiors adieu. You are Fastidious and I banish you. God's so, here comes the widow, but in faith Sir Owen say nothing of this. No go to them, by Cod Sir Owen bear as praue mind as Emperor. Who calls Gwenthyan so great teale of time? Sweet widow even your countryman here. Belly the ruddo whee: wrage witho, Mandageny Mou du ac whellock en uvea awh. Sir Owen gramarrye whee: Gwenthyan Mandage any, ac wellock en Thawen en run mogh. Mundage Thlawen, oh my good widow gabble that we may understand you, and have at you. Have at her: nay by Cod is no have at her to, Is tawge tn her prittish tongue, for 'tis fine delicates tongue, I can tell her. welsh tongue is finer as greek tongue. A baked neats tongue is finer than both. But what says Gwenthyan's now? will have Sir Owen, Sir Owen is known for a wisely man, as any since Adam and Eues time, and that is by Gods udge me a great teale ago. I think Salomon was wiser than Sir Owen. Salomons had pretty wit: but what say you to King Tavie: King Tavie is well known was as good musicians, as the pest fiddler in aul Italie, and King Tavie was Sir Owen's countryman, yes truly a prettish shentlemen porne, and did twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, out a cry upon welsh-harp, and 'tis known Tavie love Mistress Persabe, as Sir Owen loves Gwenthyan: will her have Sir Owen now? Faith widow take him, Sir owen is a tall man I can tell you. Tall man, as God unde me, her think the prittish shentelman, is faliant as Mars that is the fine knaves, the poets say the God of pribles & prables, I hope widow you see little more in Sir owen then in Sir Emuloes, say shall her? have her now, 'tis faliant, as can desire, I warrant her. Sir owen, Sir owen, 'tis not for faliant, Gwenthyan care so much, but for honest and fertuous, and loving and pundall to lead her have her will. God udge me, tage her away to her husband, and is led her have her will owd a cry, yet by God is pridle her well enough. Well S. owen, Gwenthyan is going to her cozen Gualther the Duke, for you know is her near cousin by marriage, by other husband that pring her from Wales.
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)
Whats heer lathes? where's the lime & hair Emulo, Oh rare, is this to saue his shins? Ha, ha, Rice goe call Gwenthyan, I will master dahoma, Gewnthyan dahoma? A pogs on her goe sedge her and call her within I am gone sir. Nay sir Owen what meane you? By Cod is meane ta let Gwenthyan see what bobie foole loue her, apogs on you. Sir Owen and Signiors both, doe not expatiate my obloquie, my loue shall bee so fast conglutinated to you. Cods plud, you call her gluttons, Gwenthyan, so ho Gwenthyan? Ile not disgest this pill, Signiors adieu. You are Fastidious and I banish you. Gods so, heere comes the widdow, but in faith Sir Owen say nothing of this. No goe to thē, by Cod Sir Owen beare as praue minde as Emprour. Who calles Gwenthyan so great teale of time? Sweet widdow euen your countrieman heere. Belly the ruddo whee: wrage witho, Mandageny Mou du ac whellock en wea awh. Sir Owen gramarrye whee: Gwenthyan Mandage eny, ac wellock en Thawen en ryn mogh. Mundage Thlawen, oh my good widdow gabble that we may vnderstand you, and haue at you. Haue at her: nay by Cod is no haue at her to, Is tawge tn her prittish tongue, for tis fine delicates tongue, I can tell her. welshe tongue is finer as greeke tongue. A bakte Neates tongue is finer then both. But what saies Gwenthyans now? will haue Sir Owen, Sir Owen is knowne for a wiselie man, as any since Adam aud Eues time, and that is by Gods vdge me a great teale agoe. I thinke Salomon was wiser then Sir Owen. Salomons had prettie wit: but what say you to King Tauie: King Tauie is well knowne was as good musitions, as the pest fidler in aul Italie, and King Tauie was Sir Owens countrieman, yes truely a prettish shentlemen porne, and did twinckle, twinckle, twinckle, out a crie vpon welsh-harpe, and tis knowne Tauie loue Mistris Persabe, as Sir Owen loues Gwenthyan: will her haue Sir Owen now? Faith widdow take him, Sir owen is a tall man I can tell you. Tall man, as God vnde mee, her thinke the prittish shentelman, is faliant as Mars that is the fine knaues, the poets say the God of pribles & prables, I hope widdowe you see little more in Sir owen then in Sir Emuloes, say shal her? haue her now, tis faliant, as can desire, I warrant her. Sir owen, Sir owen, tis not for faliant, Gwenthyan care so much, but for honest and fertuous, and louing and pundall to leade her haue her will. God vdge mee, tage her away▪ to her husband, and is led her haue her will owd a crie, yet by God is pridle her well enoughe. Well S. owen, Gwenthyan is going to her cozen Gualther the Duke, for you knowe is her neere cozen by marriage, by tother husband that pring her from Wales.