Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1604 [1603-1605] (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
No pieces sir. Why then the whole. I pray sir, what may yonder gentlewomen be? They may be Ladies sir, if the destinies and mortality work. What's her name sir. Mistress Frances Spurcock, sir Lancelot-Spurcock's daughter. Is she a maid sir? You may ask Pluto, and dame Proserpine that: I would be loath to be riddled syr. Is she married I mean sir? The Fates knows not yet what Shoemaker shall make her wedding shoes. I pray where Inn you sir? I would be very glad to bestow the wine of that gentlewoman. At the George sir. God save you sir. I pray your name sir? My name is master Civet syr. A sweet name, God be with you good master Civet. A, have we spied you stout S. George? For all your dragon, you had best sells good wine: That needs no ivy-bush, well, we'll not sit by it, As you do on your horse, this room shall serve: Drawer, let me have sack for us old men: For these girls and knaves small wines are best, A pint of sack, no more. A quart of sack in the three Tons, A pint, draw but a pint Daffidill, Call for wine to make yourselves drink. And a cup of small beer, and a cake good Daffidill. How now, fie, sit in the open room, now good sir Lancelot, & my kind friend worshipful Master Weathercock, What at your pint, a quart for shame. Nay Royster by your leave we will away. Come, gives some Music, we'll go dance, Begone sir Lancelot, what, and fair day too? 'twere foully done, to dance within the fair. Nay if you say so, fairest of all fairs, Then i'll not dance, a pox upon my tailor, He hath spoiled me a peach colour satin shute, Cut upon cloth of silver, but if ever the Rascal serve me such another trick, I'll give him leave i'faith to put me in the calendar of fools: and you, and you, sir Lancelot; and Master Weathercock, my goldsmith too on other side, I bespoke thee Luce, a carcanet of gold, and thought thou shouldst a had it for a fairing, and the Rogue puts me in rearages for Orient Pearl: but thou shalt have it by sunday night wench. Sir, here is one hath sent you a pottle of rhenish wine, brewed with Rose-water. To me? No sir to the knight; and desires his more acquaintance. To me? what's he that proves so kind? I have a trick to know his name sir, He hath a months mind here to mistress Frances, his name Is master Civet. Ca him in . O I know him sir, he is a fool, But reasonable rich, his father was one of these lease-mongers, these corn-monger, these money-mongers, but he never had the wit to be a whoremonger. I promise you sir, you are at too much charge.
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 peeces syr. Why then the whole. I pray syr, what may yonder gentlewomen be? They may be Ladies syr, if the destinies and mortalitie worke. Whats her name syr. Mistresse Frances Spurcocke, syr Laucelots-Spurcockes daughter. Is she a maid syr? You may aske Pluto, and dame Proserpine that: I would be loth to be ridelled syr. Is she married I meane syr? The Fates knowes not yet what shoc-maker shall make her wedding shooes. I pray where Inne you syr? I would be very glad to bestowe the wine of that gentlewoman. At the George syr. God saue you syr. I pray your name syr? My name is maister Ciut syr. A sweet name, God be with you good maister Ciuet. A, haue w spide you stout S. George? For all your dragon, you had best selles good wine: That needs no -bush, well, wle not sit by it, As you do on your horse, this roome shall seru: Drawer, let me haue sacke for vs old men: For these girles and knaues small wines are best, A pinte of sacke, no more. A quart of sack in the three Tunnes, A pinte, draw but a pinte , Call for wine to make your selues drinke. And a cup of small beere, and a cake good . How now, fye, sit in the open roome, now good syr Lancelot, & my kind friend worshipfull Master Weathercock, What at your pinte, a quart for shame. Nay Royster by your leaue we will away. Come, giues some Musicke, weele goe dance, Begone Lancelot, what, and fayre day too? Twere fowly done, to dance within the fayre. Nay if you say so, fairest of all faires, Then ile not dance, a poxe vpon my tayler, He hath spoyled me a peach colour shute, Cut vpon cloath of siluer, but if euer the Rascall serue such an other tricke, Ile giue him leaue yfaith to put me in the calender of fooles: and you, and you, syr ; and Maister Weathercock, my gold-smyth too on tother side, I bespoke thee Luce, a carkenet of gold, and thought thou shouldst a had it for a fayring, and the Rogue puts me in for Oryant Pearle: but thou shalt haue it by sunday night wench. Syr, here is one hath sent you a pole of rennish wine, brewed with Rose-water. To me? No syr to the knight; and desires his more acquaintance. To me? whats he that proues so kind? I haue a tricke to know his name syr, He hath a moneths mind here to mistresse Frances, his name maister Ciuet. Ca him in . O I know him syr, he is a foole, But reasonable rich, his father was one of these lease-mongers, these corn-monger, these mony-mongers, but he neuer had the wit to be a whore-monget. I promise you syr, you are at too much charge.