Dekker, Thomas / Webster, John · published 1607 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
Why should I long to eat of baker's bread only, when there's so much Sifting, and bolting, and grinding in every corner of the City; men and women are borne, and come running into the world faster than Coaches do into Cheapside upon Simon and Iudes day: and are eaten up by Death faster, than Mutton and porridge in a term time. Who would pin their hearts to any Sleeve: this world is like a Mint, we are no sooner cast into the fire, taken out again, hammered, stamped, and made Currant, but presently we are changed: the new Money (like a new Drab) is catched at by Dutch, Spanish, Welsh, French, Scotch, and English: but the old cracked King Harry groats are shoveled up, feel bruising, and battering, clipping, and melting, they smoke sort. The worlds an Arrant naughty-pack I see, and is a very scurvy world. Scurvy? worse than the conscience of a Broomeman, that carries out new ware, and brings home old shoes: a naughty-pack? Why there's no Minute, no thought of time passes, but some villainy or other is a brewing: why, even now, now, at holding up of this finger, and before the turning down of this, some are murdering, some lying with their maids, some picking of pockets, some cutting purses, some cheating, some weighing out bribes. In this City some wives are Cuckolding some Husbands. In yonder Village some farmers are now-now grinding the jaw-bones of the poor: therefore sweet Scholar, sugared Mistress Honisuckle, take Summer before you, and lay hold of it? why, even now must you and I hatch an egg of iniquity. Troth master I think thou wilt prove a very knave. It's the fault of many that fight under this band. I shall love a Puritans face the worse whilst I live for that Copy of thy countenance. We are all weathercocks, and must follow the wind of the present: from the bias. Change a bowl then. I will so; and now for a good cast: there's the Knight, sir Goson glow-worm. he's a Knight made out of wax. He took up Silks upon his bond I confess: nay more, he's a knight in print: but let his knighthood be of what stamp it will, from him come I, to entreat you, and Mistress Wafer, and mistress Tenterhook, being both my scholars, and your honest pew fellows, to meet him this afternoon at the rhenish-wine-house i'th' Stillyard. Captain Whirlpool will be there, young Lynstock the Alderman's Son and Heir, there too, will you steal forth, & taste of a Dutch Bun, and a Keg of Sturgeon. What excuse shall I coin now? Few excuses: You must to the pawn to buy Lawn: to Saint Martin's for Lace; to the Garden: to the Glass-house; to your Gossips: to the poulters: else take out an old ruff, and go to your Sempsters: excuses? Why, they are more ripe than meddlers at Christmas.
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)
Why should I long to eate of Bakers bread onely, when theres so much Sifting, and bolting, and grynding in euery corner of the Citty; men and women are borne, and come running into the world faster then Coaches doe into Cheap-side vppon Symon and Iudes day: and are eaten vp by Death faster, then Mutton and porridge in a terme time. Who would pin their hearts to any Sleeue: this world is like a Mynt, we are no sooner cast into the fire, taken out agen, hamerd, stampt, and made Currant, but presently wee are changde: the new Mony (like a new Drab) is catcht at by Dutch, Spanish, Welch, French, Scotch, and English: but the old crackt King Harry groates are shoueld vp, feele bruzing, and battring, clipping, and melting, they smoake sort. The worlds an Arrant naughty-pack I see, and is a very scuruy world. Scuruy? worse then the conscience of a Broomeman, that carryes out new ware, and brings home old shoes: a naughty-packe? Why theres no Minute, no thought of time passes, but some villany or other is a brewing: why, euen now, now, at holding vp of this finger, and before the turning downe of this, some are murdring, some lying with their maides, some picking of pockets, some cutting purses, some cheating, some weying out bribes. In this Citty some wiues are Cuckolding some Husbands. In yonder Village some farmers are now-now grynding the Iawbones of the poore: therefore sweete Scholler, sugred Mistris Honisuckle, take Summer before you, and lay hold of it? why, euen now must you and I hatch an egge of iniquity. Troth maister I thinke thou wilt proue a very knaue. Its the fault of many that fight vnder this band. I shall loue a Puritans face the worse whilest I liue for that Coppy of thy countenance. We are all wethercocks, and must follow the winde of the present: from the byas. Change a bowle then. I will so; and now for a good cast: theres the Knight, sir Gosn Glo-worme. Hees a Knight made out of waxe. He tooke vp Silkes vppon his bond I confesse: nay more, hees a knight in print: but let his knight-hood be of what stamp it will, from him come I, to intreate you, and Mistris Wafer, and mistris Tenterhook, being both my schollers, and your honest pew fellowes, to meet him this afternoon at the Rhenesh-wine-house ith Stillyard. Captaine Whirlepoole will be there, young Lynstock the Alder-mans Son and Heire, there too, will you steale forth, & tast of a Dutch Bun, and a Keg of Sturgeon. What excuse shall I coyne now? Few excuses: You must to the pawne to buy Lawne: to Saint Martins for Lace; to the Garden: to the Glasse-house; to your Gossips: to the Powlters: else take out an old ruffe, and go to your Sempsters: excuses? Why, they are more ripe then medlers at Christmas.