Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Thou boy, by the mass ye will climb the ladder, Ah sirrah, I love a wench that can be wylye● She perceived my mind, with a twink of mine eye, If we two play boody on any man, We will make him as bare as Iob anon, Well Dalila, let see what ye have won, Sir, I had ten shillings when I begun, And here is all, every farring, ye lie like a whore, ye have won a pound, Then the devil strike me to the ground, I will feel your pocket, by your leave mestres, A way knave, not mine by the mass, Yes by god, & give you this to boot, Out whoreson knave, I beshrew thy heart root Wilt thou rob me & breat me to? In the way of correction but a blow or two, Correct thy dogs thou shalt not beat me, I will make your knaves flesh cut I warrant thee, Ye think I have no friends, yes I have in store, A good fellow or two percaunce more. yea, by the mass they shall box you for this gear, A knave I found thee, a knave I leave the here. Gup whore, do ye hear this jade? Loving when is pleased, When she is angry thus shrewd, Chief brother, sylter whore, Two grasses of an ill tree, I will tarry no longer here, Far well, god be with ye. Alas wretched wretch that I am, Most miserable caitiff that ever was borne, Full of pain and sorrow, crooked and lame. Stuffed with diseases in this world forlorn. My sinews be shrunken, my flesh eaten with pocius My bones fin of ache, & great pain, My head is bald, that bare yellow locks, Crooked I creep to the earth again, Mine eye sight is dim, my hands tremble & shake My stomach abhorreth all kind of meat: For lack of clothes, great cold I take● When appetide serveth, I can get no meat. Where I was fair and amiable of face, Now am I foul and horrible to see, All this I have I deserved for lack of grace, justly for my sins god doth plague me. My parents did tidle me, they were to blame, In stead of correction, in ill did me maintain: I fell no nought, and shall die with shame Yet all this is not half of my grief and pain. The worm of my conscience that shall never die, Accuseth me daily more and more: So oft have I sinned wilfully, That I fear to be damned for evermore. What woeful wight art thou? tell me, That here most grievously dost lament, Confess the truth, and I will comfort thee, By the word of god omnipotent: Although your time ye have misspent, Repent and amend while ye have space, And god will restore you to heatlh and 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)
Thou boy, by the masse ye wyl clyme the ladder, Ah sira, I loue a wenche that can be wylye She perceyued my mind, with a twinke of myne eie, If we two play boody on any man, We wyll make him as bare as Iob anone, Wel Dalila, let se what ye haue won, Sir, I had .x. shillinges when I begon, And here is all, euery farryng, ye lye lyke a whoore, ye haue won a pound, Then the deuyll stryke me to the grounde, I will fele your pocket, by your leaue mestres, A way knaue, not mine by the masse, Yes bi god, & geue you this to boot, Out horeson knaue, I beshrew thy hert root Wilt thou rob me & breat me to? In the way of correction but a blowe or twoo, Correct thy dogges thou shalt not beate me, I wyl make your knaues flesshe cut I warrant the, Ye thynke I haue no frendes, yes I haue in store, A good felow or two percaunce more. yea, by the masse they shall boxe you for this geare, A knaue I found the, a knaue I leaue the here. Gup whore, do ye heare this iade? Louing when is pleased, When she is angry thus shrewd, Chief brother, sylter whore, Two grases of an yll tree, I wyl tary no longer here, Fare well, god be with ye. Alas wretched wretche that I am, Most miserable caitife that euer was borne, Full of payne and sorow, croked and lome. Stuft with diseases in this world forlorne. My senowes be shronken, my flesh eaten wt pocs My bones fin of ache, & great payne, My head is bald, that bare yelowe lockes, Croked I crepe to the earth agayne, Mine eie sigth is dimme, my hands tremble & shake My stomake abhorreth all kynd of meate: For lacke of clothes, great colde I take When appetide serueth, I can get no meate. Where I was fayre and amiable of face, Now am I foule and horrible to se, Al this I haue I deserued for lacke of grace, Iustly for my sinnes god doth plague me. My parentes did tidle me, they were to blame, In steade of correction, in yll did me maintain: I fell no naught, and shall dye with shame Yet all thys is not halfe of my greife and payne. The worme of my conscience yt shall neuer dye, Accuseth me dayly more and more: So oft haue I sinned wilfully, That I feare to be damned for euermore. What wofull wight art thou? tell me, That here most greuously doest lament, Confesse the truth, and I wil comfort the, By the word of god omnipotent: Although your tyme ye haue mispent, Repent and amend while ye haue space, And god wyll restore you to heatlh and grace.