The Dutch Courtesan (Cockle de Moye) · chunk 29 of 35
Marston, John · published 1605 · first performed or written 1605 [1603-1605] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
One for a robbery: one Mullegrub, he calls himself. Mullegrub? Bel-man, know'st thou him? Know him: O master Const. what good service have you done. Know him? he's a strong thief, his house has been suspected for a bawdy Tavern a great while: and a receipt for Cutpurses, 'tis most certain: He has been long in the black book, and is he ta'en now? by’r lady my masters we'll not trust the stocks with him, we'll have him to the justices, get a Mittimus to Newgate presently. Come sir, come on sir. Ha: does your Rascalship yet know my Worship In the end? ay, the end of your Worship we know. Ha, goodman Constable, here's an honest fellow can tell you what I am? 'tis true sir, you're a strong thief he says on his own knowledge: Bind fast, bind fast, we know you: we'll trust no Stocks with you. Away with him to the jail instantly. Why but dost hear Bel-man, Rogue, Rascal, Gods Why but? Why but; wha ha ha, excellent, excellent, ha my fine Cocledemoy, my Vintner fists, I'll make him fart crackers before I ha' done with him; tomorrow is the day of judgement. Afore the Lord God my knavery grows unperegal, 'tis time to take a nap, until half an hour hence: God give your Worship Music, content, and rest. You been very velcom to mine shambra. But how know ye, how are ye assured Both of the deed, and of his suit return. O Myn-here. Ick sall tell you, metre Malhereux Came all breathless running a my shambra His sword all bloody: he tell a me he had kill Frevile, And pred a me to conceal him: Ick flatter him, bid bring moneys, he should live and lie vid me, He went whilst Ick (me hope vidout sins) out of mine Much love to Frevile betray him. Fear not, 'tis well: good works get grace for sin. Dear, peace, rest dear, so softly, all go in: De net is lay, now shall Ick be revenge. If dat me knew a dog dat Frevile love, Me would poison him, for know de deepest hell As a revenging Woman's, nought so fell. Ho cozen Francke, the party you wot of, M. Malhereux. Bid him come up, I prithee. O mine here man, a dear liver Love, Mine ten tousant times velcom Love, Ha, by mine trat, you been de just, vat sall me say: Vat feet honey name sall I call you? Any from you is pleasure. Come my loving Prettiness, where's thy Chamber? I long to touch your sheets. No, no, not yet mine sweetest soft-lipped love: You sall not gulp down all delights at once: Be min trat, dis all-fles-Lovers, dis ravenous Wenches Dat sallow all down hole, vill have all at one bit, Fie, fie, fie, be min fait day do eat comfits vid spoons. No, no, I'll make you chew your pleasure vit love, " De more degrees and steps, de more delight, De more endeared is de pleasure hight.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T35 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
One for a robberie: one Mullegrub, he cals himſelfe. Mullegrub? Bel-man, knowſt thou him? Know him: O maiſter Conſt. what good ſeruice haue you done. Know him? Hees a ſtrong theefe, his houſe has beene ſuſpected for a bawdie Tauerne a great while: and a receipt for Cut-purſes, tis moſt certaine: He has beene long in the blacke booke, and is he tane now? Berlady my maiſters weele not truſt the ſtocks with him, Weele haue him to the Iuſtices, get a Mittimus to Newgate preſentlie. Come ſir, come on ſir. Ha: does your Raſcalſhip yet know my Worſhip In the end? I, the end of your Worſhip we know. Ha, goodman Conſtable, heeres an honeſt fellow can tell you what I am? Tis true ſir, yare a ſtrong theefe hee ſaies on his owne knowledge: Binde faſt, binde faſt, we know you: Weele truſt no Stocks with you. Awaie with him to the Iayle inſtantlie. Why but doſt heare Bel-man, Rogue, Raſcall, Gods Whie but? Whie but; wha ha ha, excellent, excellent, ha my fine Cocledemoy, my Vintner fiſtes, Ile make him fart crackers before I ha done with him; to morrow is the daie of Iudgment. Afore the Lord God my knauerie growes vnperegall, Tis time to take a nap, vntill halfe an houre hence: God giue your Worſhip Muſicke, content, and reſt. You bin verie velcom to mine ſhambra. But how knowe ye, how are ye aſſurde Both of the deed, and of his ſute returne. O Myn-here. Ick ſall tell you, metre Malhereux Came all bretleſſe running a my ſhambra His ſword all bloudie: he tel a me he had kil Frevile, And pred a me to conceale him: Ick flatter him, bid bring monies, he ſhould liue and lie vid me, He went whilſt Ick (me hope vidout ſins) out of mine Muſh loue to Frevile betraie him. Feare not, tis well: good works get grace for ſin. Dere, peace, reſt dere, ſo ſoftlie, all goe in: De net is laie, now ſal Ick be reuenge. If dat me knew a dog dat Frevile loue, Me would puiſſon him, for know de deepeſt hell As a reuenging Womans, naught ſo fell. Ho Coſen Francke, the partie you wot of, M. Malhereux. Bid him come vp, I prede. O min here man, a dere liuer Loue, Mine ten touſant times velcom Loue, Ha, by mine trat, you bin de iuſt, vat ſall me ſaie: Vat ſeet honie name ſall I call you? Anie from you is pleaſure. Come my louing Prettineſſe, wheres thie Chamber? I long to touch your ſheetes. No, no, not yet mine ſeeteſt ſoft-lipped loue: You ſall not gulp downe all delights at once: Be min trat, dis all-fles-Louers, dis rauenous Wenches Dat ſallow all downe hole, vill haue all at one bit, Fie, fie, fie, be min fait dey do eate Comfets vid ſpoones. No, no, Ile make you chew your pleaſure vit loue, "De more degrees and ſteps, de more delight, "De more endeered is de pleaſure hight.