The Dutch Courtesan (Cockle de Moye) · chunk 33 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 · 528 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
No faith suspicions, for 'twas thus protested a cloak was stolen, that cloak he had, he had it Himself confessed by force, the rest of his defence The choler of a justice wronged in wine, Joined with malignance of some hasty jurors, Whose wit was lighted by the justice nose, The knave was cast, But Lord to hear his moan, his prayers, his wishes, His zeal ill timed, and his words unpitied, Would make a dead man rise and smile, Whilst he observed how fear can make men vile. Shall we go meet the execution? I shall be ruled by you. By my troth a rare motion, you must haste, For malefactors goes like the world upon wheels. Will you man us, you shall be our guide to Frevile. I am your servant. Ha servant? Zounds I am no companion for panders, your best make him your love. So will I Sir, we must live by the quick you say. 'Sdeath a virtue, what a damned things this? Whole trust fair faces, tears, and vows, 'Sdeath not I, She is a woman, that is, she can lie. Come, come, turn not a man of time, to make all ill, Whose goodness you conceive not, since the worst of chance Is to crave grace for heedless ignorance. So, I ha' lost my Sergeant in an ecliptic mist, drunk, horrible drunk, he is fine: so now will I fit myself, I hope this habit will do me no harm, I am an honest man already: fit, fit, fit as a punk's tail, that serves everybody: By this time my Vintner thinks of nothing but hell and sulphur, he farts fire and brimstone already, hang toasts, the execution approacheth. I do not blush, although condemned by laws, No kind of death is shameful but the cause: Which I do know is none, and yet my lust Hath made the one (although not cause) most just. May I not be reprieved? Frevile is but mislodged, Some lethargy hath seized him, no, much malice, Do not lay blood upon your souls with good intents, Men may do ill and law sometime repents. Sir, sir, prepare, vain is all lewd defence. " Conscience was law: but now laws Conscience, My endless peace is made, and to the poor, My purse, my purse. I Sir, and it shall please you the poore has your purse a. You are a Welyman, But now thou source of Devils, Oh how I loathe The very memory of that I adored, He that's of fair blood, well meant, of good breeding, Best famed, of sweet acquaintance and true friends, And would with desperate Impudence lose all these, And hazard landing at this fatal shore, Ler him nere kill, nor steale, but loue a Whore, De man dose rave, tinck a got, tinck a got, and bid de flesh, de world, and the dible farewell. Farewell. Farewell. Vat is't you sea, ha? Sir your pardon, with my this defence, Do not forget protested violence Of your low affections no requests, No arguments of reason, no known danger. No assured wicked bloodiness, Could draw your heart from this damnation. Why stay.
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)
No faith ſuſpitions, for twas thus proteſted a cloke was ſtolne, that cloke he had, he had it Himſelfe confeſt by force, the reſt of his defence The choller of a Iuſtice wrongd in wine, Ioynd with malignance of ſome haſtie Iurors, Whoſe wit was lighted by the Iuſtice noſe, The knaue was caſt, But Lord to heare his mone, his praiers, his wiſhes, His zeal ill timde, and his words vnpittied, Would make a dead man riſe and ſmile, Whilſt he obſerued how feare can make men vile. Shall we go meet the execution? I ſhall be rulde by you. By my troh a rare motion, you muſt haſt, For male-factors goes like the world vpon wheeles. Will you man vs, you ſhall be our guide to Freuile. I am your ſeruant. Ha ſeruant? Zounds I am no companion for Pandors▪ your beſt make him your loue. So will I Sir, we muſt liue by the quicke you ſay. Sdeath a vertue, what a damnd things this? Whole truſt faire faces, teares, and vowes, Sdeath not I, She is a woman, that is, ſhe can ly. Come, come, turne not a man of time, to make al il, Whoſe goodneſſe you conceiue , ſince the orſt of chance Is to craue grace for ▪ So, I ha loſt my Sergeant in an ecliptique miſt, drunke, horrible drunke, he is fine: ſo now will I fit my ſelfe, I hope this habit will do me no harme, I am an honeſt man already: fit, fit, fit as a puncks taile, that ſerues euery body: By this time my Vintner thinkes of nothing but hel and ſulpher, he farts fire and brimſtone already, hang toſtes, the execution approcheth. I do not bluſh, although condemnd by lawes, No kind of death is ſhamefull but the cauſe: Which I do know is none, and yet my luſt Hath made the one (although not cauſe) moſt iuſt. May I not be repriued? Freuile is but miſlodgd, Some lethargie hath ſeazd him, no, much mallice, Do not lay bloud vpon your ſoules with good inten, Men may do ill and law ſometime repents. Sir, ſir, prepare, vaine is all lewd defence. "Conſcience was law: but now lawes Conſcience, My endles peace is made, and to the poore, My purſe, my purſe. I Sir, and it ſhall pleaſe you the poore has your purſe a. You are a Welyman, But now thou ſourſe of Deuils, Oh how I lothe The very memory of that I adorde, He thats of faire bloud, well meand, of good breeding, Beſt fam'd, of ſweet acquaintance and true friends▪ And would with deſperate Impudence looſe all theſe, And hazard landing at this fatall ſhore, Ler him nere kill, nor ſteale, but loue a Whore, De man doſe raue, tinck a got, tinck a got, and bid d leſh, de world, and the dible farewell. Farewell. Farewell. Vat iſt you ſea, ha? Sir your pardon, with my this defence, Do not forget proteſted violence Of your low affections no requeſts, No arguments of reaſon, no knowne daner. No aſſured wicked bloodines, Could draw your hart from this damnation. Why ſtaie.