Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1604 [1603-1605] (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T28 Marriage-making: weddings, brides and ma · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T28: married, marriage, wedding, day, bride, father, wife, luce, love, husband.
I'faith Francke, I must turn away this Daffidill, he's grown a very foolish saucy fellow. Indeed la father, he was so since I had him: Before he was wise enough, for a foolish serving-man. But what say you to me sir Lancelot? O, about my daughters, well I will go forward, here's two of them God save them: but the third, O she's a stranger in her course of life, She hath refused you Master Weathercock. I by the Rood sir Lancelot that she hath, But had she tried me, she should a found a man of me indeed. Nay be not angry sir, at her denial, She hath refused seven of the worshipfulst and worthiest housekeepers this day in Kent: Indeed she will not marry I suppose. The more fool she. What is it folly to love Charity? No mistake me not sir Lancelot, But 'tis an old proverb, and you know it well, That women dying maids, lead apes in hell. That's a foolish proverb, and a false. By the mass I think it be, and therefore let it go: But who shall marry with mistress Frances? By my troth they are talking of marrying me sister. Peace, let them talk: Fools may have leave to prattle as they walk. Sentences still sweet mistress, You have a wit, and it were your alabaster. I'faith and thy tongue trips trench-more. No of my knighthood, not a shuter yet: Alas God help her silly girl, a fool, a very fool: But there's the other black-browes a shrewd girl, She hath wit at will, and suitors two or three: Sir Arthur Greenshield one, a gallant knight, A valiant Soldier, but his power but poor. Then there's young Oliver, the Devonshire lad, A wary fellow, marry full of wit, And rich by the rood, but there's a third all air, Light as a feather, changing as the wind: young Flowerdale. O he sir, he's a desperate dick indeed. Bar him your house. Fie not so, he's of good parentage. By my fay and so he is, and a proper man. I proper enough, had he good qualities. I marry, there's the point sir Lancelot: For there's an old saying, Be he rich, or be he poor, Be he high, or be he low: Be he borne in barn or hall, 'tis manners makes the man and all. You are in the right master Weathercock. Soul, I think I am sure crossed, Or witched with an owl, I have haunted them: Inn after Inn, booth, after booth, yet cannot find them, ha yonder they are, that's she, I hope to God 'tis she, nay I know 'tis she now, for she treads her shoe a little awry. Where is this inn? we are past it Daffidill. The good sign is here sir, but the back gate is before. Save you sir, I pray may I borrow a piece of a word with you?
seed 43: T56 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Yfaith Francke, I must turne away this Daffidill, Hees growne a very foolish sawcie fellow. Indeed law father, he was so since I had him: Before he was wise enough, for a foolish seruing-man. But what say you to me syr Lancelot? O, about my daughters, wel I will goe forward, Heers two of them God saue them: but the third, O shees a stranger in her course of life, Shee hath refused you Maister Weathercocke. I by the Rood syr Lancelot that she hath, But had she tride me, she should a found a man of me indeed. Nay be not angry syr, at her deniall, Shee hath refus'de seauen of the worshipfulst and worthyest hous-keepers this day in Kent: Indeed she will not marry I suppose. The more foole she. What is it folly to loue Charitie? No mistake me not syr , But tis an old prouerbe, and you know it well, That women dying maides, lead apes in hell. Thats a foolish prouerbe, and a false. By the masse I thinke it be, and therefore let it goe: But who shall marry with mistresse Frances? By my troath they are talking of marrying me sister. Peace, let them talke: Fooles may haue leaue to prattle as they walke. Sentesses still sweet mistresse, You haue a wit, and it were your Alliblaster. Yaith and thy tongue trips trench-more. No of my knight-hood, not a shuter yet: Alas God helpe her sillie girle, a foole, a verie foole: But thers the other black-browes a shroad girle, Shee hath wit at will, and shuters two or three: Syr Arthur Greene-sheld one, a gallant knight, A valiant Souldier, but his power but poore. Then thers yong , the Deuen-shyre lad, A wary fellow, marry full of wit, And rich by the rood, but thers a third all aire, Light as a feather, changing as the wind: young Flowerdal. O hee syr, hees a desperate dick indeed. Barre him your house. Fye not so, hees of good parentage. By my faie and so he is, and a proper man. I proper enough, had he good qualities. I marrie, thers the point : For thers an old saying, Be he rich, or be he poore, hye, or be he lowe: Be he borne in barne or hall, Tis maners makes the man and all. You are in the right maister Weathercck. Soule, I thinke I am sure crossed, Or wiht with an owle, I haue hanted them: Inne after Inne, booth, after booth, yet cannot finde them, ha yonder they are, thats she, I hope to God shee, nay I know tis shee now, for he treades her shooe a little awry. Where is this inne? we are past it Daffidill. The good signe is heere syr, but the back gate is before. Saue you syr, I pray may I borrow a peece of a word with you?