Dekker, Thomas / Webster, John · published 1607 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 462 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
I'll come. The hour. Two: the way-through Paul's: every wench take a pillar, there clap on your Masks: your men will be behind you, and before your prayers be half done, be before you, & man you out at several doors. You'll be there? If I breathe. Farewell. So: now must I go set the other Wenches the self same Copy. A rare Schoolmaster, for all kind of hands, I. Oh: What strange curses are powered down with one blessing? Do all tread on the heel? Have all the art to hoodwink wise men thus? And (like those builders of Babel's Tower) to speak unknown tongues. Of all (save by their husbands) understood: Well, if (as ivy 'bout the Elm does twine) All wives love clipping, there's no fault in mine. But if the world lay speechless, even the dead Would rise, and thus cry out from yawning graves, Women make men, or Fools, or Beasts, or Slaves. Her answer! talk in music: Will she come? Oh my sides ache in my loins, in my bones? I ha' more need of a posset of sack, and lie in my bed and sweat, than to talk in music: no honest woman would run hurrying up & down thus and undo herself for a man of honour, without reason? I am so lame, every foot that I set to the ground went to my heart. I thought I had been at mumchance my bones rattled so with jaunting? had it not been for a friend in a corner. I had kicked up my heels. Minister comfort to me, Will she come. All the Castles of comfort that I can put you into is this, that the jealous wittol her husband, came (like a mad Ox) bellowing in whilst I was there. Oh I ha' lost my sweet breath with trotting. Death to my heart? her husband? What saith he? The freeze-jerkin Rascal out with his purse, and called me plain Bawd to my face. Affliction to me, then thou spak'st not to her? I spoke to her, as Clients do to Lawyers without money (to no purpose) but I'll speak with him, and hamper him to, if ever he fall into my clutches: I'll make the yellow-hammer her husband know, (for all he's an Italian) that there's a difference between a cogging bawd and an honest motherly gentlewoman. Now, what cold whetstones lie over your stomacher? will you have some of my Aqua? Why my Lord. Thou hast killed me with thy words. I see bashful lovers and young bullocks are knocked down at a blow: Come, come▪ drink this draft of cinnamon water, and pluck up your spirits: up with 'em, up with 'em. Do you hear, the whiting mop has nibbled. Ha?
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)
Ile come. The hower. Two: the way-through Paules: euery wench take a piller, there clap on your Maskes: your men will bee behind you, and before your prayers be halfe don, be before you, & man you out at seuerall doores. Youle be there? If I breath. Farewell. So: now must I goe set the tother Wenches the selfe same Coppy. A rare Scholemaister, for all kind of handes, I. Oh: What strange curses are powred downe with one blessing? Do all tread on the heele? Haue all the art to hood-winke wise men thus? And (like those builders of Babels Tower) to speake vnknowne tongues. Of all (saue by their husbands) vnderstood: Well, if (as Iuy bout the Elme does twine) All wiues loue clipping, theres no fault in mine. But if the world lay speechles, euen the dead Would rise, and thus cry out from yawning graues, Women make men, or Fooles, or Beasts, or Slaues. Her answer! talke in musick: Wil she come? Oh my sides ake in my loines, in my bones? I ha more need of a posset of sacke, and lie in my bed and sweate, than to talke in musick: no honest woman would run hurrying vp & down thus and vndoe her selfe for a man of honour, without reason? I am so lame, euery foot that I set to the ground went to my hart. I thoght I had bin at Mum-chance my bones ratled so with iaunting? had it not bin for a friend in a corner. I had kickt vp my heeles. Minister comfort to me, Wil she come. All the Castles of comfort that I can put you into is this, that the iealous wittal her husband, came (like a mad Oxe) belowing in whilst I was ther. Oh I ha lost my sweet breth with trotting. Death to my hart? her husband? What saith he? The freeze-lerkin Rascal out with his purse, and cal'd me plaine Bawd to my face. Affliction to me, then thouspak'st not to her? I spake to her, as Clients do to Lawiers without money (to no purpose) but Ile speak with him, and hamper him to, if eue he fall into my clutches: Ile make the yelow-hammer her husband knowe, (for all hees an Italian) that theres a difference betweene a cogging Baud and an honest motherly gentlewoman. Now, what cold whetstonesly ouer your stomacher? wil you haue some of my Aqua? Why my Lord. Thou hast kild me with thy words. I see bashful louers and young bullockes are knockt down at a blow: Come, come▪ drinke this draught of Cynamon water, and plucke vp your spirits: vp with em, vp with em. Do you hear, the whiting mop has nibled. Ha?