Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
Be not offended I pray you, I must say more, your son is suspect, light fyngered to be. your daughter hath nice tricks three or four, See to it in time, least worse ye do see, He that spareth the rod, hateth the child truly, yet Solomon sober correction doth mean, Not to beat and bounce them to make them lame: God thank you mestres, I am well at ease Such a fool to teach me, preaching as she please, Damn ye belie them deadly I know plain, Because they go handsomely ye disdain, Then on the other as well would I complain, But your other son is good, and no thank to you These will ye make nought by sweet jesu. Eupliade, my children nought ye lie, By your malice they shall not set a sly, I have but one mome, in comparison of his brother Him the fool praiseth, and despiseth the other. Well Xantippe, better in time, then to late, Seing ye take it so, here my leave I take. Marry good leave have ye, the great god be with you My children or I be cursed I think, They be complained on where ever they go, That for their pleasure they might drink. Nay by this the poor fowls be come from serle weary, I will go get them meat to make them mercy, Lo, lo, here I bringer What is she now ye have her? A lusty minion lover. For no gold will I give her welcome my honey ay. Oh my heart. This wench can sing, And play her part, I am yours (and you mine) with all my heart. By the mass it is well song, were ye not sorry ye were a maid so long? Fie master iniquity fie, I am a maid yet, No sister no, your maiden head is sick: That knave your brother will be a blab still, I wiss Dalila ye can say as much by him, if ye wil. By him quoth ha, he hath whores two or three, But iche tell your minion doll, by gog's body: It skilleth not she doth hold you as much ye lie falsely, she will play me no such touch, Not she? yes to do your heart good I could tell you who putteth a bone in your hood. Peace whore, or ye bear me a box an there, Here is mine ear knave, strike and thou dare. To suffer him thus ye be no man, If ye will not revenge me, I will find one, To set so little by me, ye were not wont, Well, it is no matter. Though ye do ceteri nolunt, Peace Dalila, speak ye latin poor fool, No no, but a proverb I learned at school. yea sister, you went to school till ye were past grace
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)
Be not offended I pray you, I must say more, your sonne is suspect, lyght fyngered to be. your daughter hath nyce trickes three or foure, Se to it in tyme, leaste worse ye do see, He that spareth the rod, hateth the chyld truely, yet Salomon sobre correction doth meane, Not to beate and bounce them to make them lame: God thanke you mestres, I am well at ease Such a foole to teache me, preachyng as she please, Dame ye belye them deadly I know playne, Because they go handsomly ye disdayne, Then on the other as well would I complayne, But your other sonne is good, and no thank to you These wyl ye make naught by swete Iesu. Eupliade, my chyldren naught ye lye, By your malyce they shal not set a slye, I haue but one mome, in comparison of hys brother Him the foole prayseth, and despiseth the other. Well Xantippe, better in time, then to late, Seing ye take it so, here my leaue I take. Mary good leaue haue ye, the gret god be wt you My chyldren or I be curst I thinke, They be complayned on where euer they go, That for theyr pleasure they might drynke. Nay by thys the poor foules be come frō ferle wery, I will go get them meate to make them mercy, Lo, lo, here I brynger What is she nowe ye haue her? A lusty mynyon louer. For no golde wyll I gyue her welcome my hony ay. Oh my heart. Thys wenche can synge, And play her parte, I am yours (and you mine) with all my hart. By the masse it is well songe, were ye not sory ye were a mayd so longe? Fye maister iniquitie fye, I am a mayd yet, No sister no, your maiden head is sicke: That knaue your brother wyl be a blabbe styl, I wisse Dalila ye can say as muche by him, if ye wil. By him quod ha, he hath whores two or three, But iche tell your minion doll, by gogs body: It skylleth not she doth holde you as muche ye lye falsly, she wyll play me no suche touche, Not she? yes to do your heart good I could tell you who putteth a bone in your hood. Peace whore, or ye beare me a boxe an theare, Here is mine eare knaue, stryke and thou dare. To suffer him thus ye be no man, If ye wyl not reuenge me, I wyl fynd one, To set so litle by me, ye were not wont, Well, it is no matter. Though ye do ceteri nolunt, Peace Dalila, speake ye laten poore foole, No no, but a prouerbe I learned at scoole. yea syster, you went to scole til ye were past grace