The Puritan, or The Widow of Watling Street (The Puritan Widow) · chunk 27 of 37
Middleton, Thomas · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T13 Knights, squires and ladies · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
Tut tut I know thy meaning, thou wouldst say thou'rt a prisoner, I tell thee thou'rt none. How none? why is not this the Marshalsea? wilt hear me speak, I heard of thy rare conjuring My chain was lost, I sweat for thy release, As thou shalt do the like at home for me, Keeper. Sir. Speak is not this man free? Yes at his pleasure sir, the fees discharged; Go, go, I'll discharge them ay. I thank your worship Now trust me you're a dear Knight kindness unexpected, oh their's nothing to a free Gentleman.— I will conjure for you sir till Froth come through my Buff-jerkin? Nay then thou shalt not pass with so little a bounty, for at the first sight of my chain again,— Forty fine Angels shall appear unto thee. Twill be a glorious showe, ifaith Knight a very fine show, but are all these of your owne house? are you sure of that fir? ay, ay, no, no, what's he yonder? talking with my wild Nephew, pray heaven, he give him good counsel; Who he he's a rare friend of mine, an admirable fellow Knight, the finest fortune-teller. Oh 'tis he indeed that came to my Lady sister, & foretold the loss of my chain, I am not angry with him now, for I see 'twas my fortune to lose it; by your leave M. Fortune-teller, I had a glimpse on you at home at my sister's the widows, there you prophesied of the loss of a chain,— simply though I stand here I was he that lost it. Was it you sir? O' my troth Nuncle, he's the rarest fellow, has told me my fortune so right; I find it so right to my nature. What is't? God send it a good one? O 'tis a passing good one, Nuncle: for he says I shall prove such an excellent gamester in my time, that I shall spend all faster than my father got it, There's a fortune in deed, Nay it hits my humour so pat. Ay that will be the end on't. will the Curse of the beggar prevail so much, that the son shall consume that foolishly, which the father got, craftily, ay, ay, ay, 'twill, 'twill, 'twill. Stay, stay, stay turn over George. Iulie, here Iulie that's this month, Sunday thirteen, yesterday fourteen, today fifteen. Look quickly for the fifteen day,— if within the compass of these two days there would be some Boisterous storm or other, it would be the best, I'd defer him off till then, some tempest and it be thy will? Here's the fifteen day— hot and fair. Puh, would t'had been hot and foul. The sixteen day, that's tomorrow, the morning for the most part fair and pleasant. No luck. But about high-noon-lightning and thunder. lightning and thunder, admirable, best of all, I'll conjure tomorrow just at high noon George. Happen but true tomorrow Almanac, and i'll give thee leave to lie all the year after.
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)
Tut tur I now thy meaning, thou wouldst say thou'rt a prisoner, I tell thee thou'rt none. How none? why is not this the Marshialsea? woult heare me speake, I hard of thy rare cuniuring My chayne was lost, I sweate for thy release, As thou shalt doe the like at home for me, Keeper. Sir. Speake is not this man free? Yes at his pleasure sir, the fee's dischargd; Goe, goe, Ile discharge them I. I thanke your worship Now trust me yar a deere Knight kindnes vnexpected, oh theirs nothing to a free Gentle man.—I will cuniute for you sir till Froath come through my Buffe-ierkin? Nay then thou shalt not passe with so little a bounty, for at the first sight of my chaine agen,—Forty fine Angells shall appeare vnto thee. Twill be a glorious showe, ifaith Knight a very fine show, but are all these of your owne house? are you sure of that fir? I, I, no, no, whats he younder? talking with my wild Nephew, pray heauen, he giue him good counsell; Who he hee's a rare friend of mine, an admirable fellow Knight, the finest fortune-teller. Oh tis he indeed that came to my Lady sister, & foretold the losse of my chaine, I am not angry with him now, for I see twas my fortune to loose it; by your leaue M. Fortune-teller, I had a glimps on you at home at my Sisters the Widdowes, there you prouisied of the losse of a chaine, — simply tho I stand here I was he that lost it. Was it you sir? A my troth Nunckle, hee's the rarest fellow, has told me my fortune so right; I find it so right to my nature. What ist? God send it a good one? O tis a passing good one, Nuncle: for he sayes I shall proue such an excelent gamster in my time, that I shall spend al faster then my father got it, T'heres a fortune in deed, Nay it hits my humour so pat. I that will be the end ont. will the Curse of the beggar preuaile so much, that the sonne shall consume that foolishlie, which the father got, craftilie, I, I, I, twill, twill, twill. Stay, stay, stay turne ouer George. Iutie, here Iulie thats this month, Sunday thirteene, yester day forteene, to day fifteene. Looke quickly for the fifteene day,—if within the compasse of these two dayes there would be some Boystrous storme or other, it would be the best, Ide defer him off till then, some tempest and it be thy will? Heres the fifteene day—hot and fayre. Puh, would t'ad beene hot and foule. The sixteene day, thats to morrow, the morning for the most part faire and pleasant. No lucke. But about hye-none-lighning and thunder. Lighning and thunder, admirable, best of all, Ile coniure to morrow iust at hie none George. Happen but true to morrow Almanack, and ile giue thee leaue to lie all the yeare after.